The Ship Rocks$$$$copper Poem by JOE POEWHIT

Copper is my slave name.
Brought from my home land.
Chained in the bowls of this ship.
Along with my fractured hip.
The chains wear the skin away.
From each sway from the waves ways.
Vomit and waste are on the floor.
Wet beams and stench - nevermore.
Babies born with the fetus on the floor.
Chains rattle and moans - like none before.
Big brass locks on every door.
Food maybe - but foul as before.
Bathrooms are on the floor.
The chains locked and secured door.
Yells and screams - then a silent moan.
Cries of yesterday and a hut home.
RUM-IRON-beads our cost on shore.
Then up the gangway into hell's door.
Sold at auction like history before.
Surely, GOD, must have a law.

from my new book;
THE BEGGAR plus SELECT POETRY
search: POEWHIT

JESUS SAVES