Albert Martin

Solitude In The Prairie. The Black And The White - Poem by Albert Martin

Dark as coal was the black
That came to me and said:
I go living but living is a drag
You're my hero for good or for bad
Constant red's the sun for my sight that's tired
Made of needles is my every night bed

The last birds had flown
And they may back no more
I looked at the mountains;
smoke there was none
The indians must had thought that to rest
On icy ground it is made the best
And packed their bags and headed north

I faced the black and pointed to
Those mountains far of the darkest blue
Said: leave your owner, leave your farm
No more they deserve your arms
But if you are coming with me be ready to fight
They'll say you're unworthy for being black
And my disposition is bad for getting harmed
Sun was setting and bringing the fading light
And both started walking towards the starry night
Side by side - sad but true

Topic(s) of this poem: racism

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, March 10, 2015

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