The continuous noise of a rock being struck,
Multiplying hundreds of times.
The pick on stone, like the hammer that strikes,
on a clock that forever chimes.
The well muscled arms, and the sweating backs,
toiled onwards with not a thirst slaked.
These stolen men, harshly chained to a line,
Oh, how their shattered bodies ached.
White dust seeped into each eye and dry mouth,
beneath that cruel blistering heat.
From sunrise they‘d work until past sunset,
with barely a moment to eat.
For wealth they were seized, captive they’d remain,
No status within our country.
And in history books, lies a huge stain,
of the evil of slavery.
Very strong images here Ernestine.A stain and indeed a dark shadow on history. Sid.
You have created such a deplorable scene with this strong and descriptive poem Ernestine. My heart goes out to the slaves for the torture they endured, and gratefully so to you for making me aware of such cruelty. 10 love Karin
Your well chosen words paint a strong image of courage. I am shamed and thankful for my comfort and safety. Excellent write.10+ Kind regards Ann
I think the title of this excellent piece is so apt, well said Ernestine, 10 Lynda xx
Yes we should never forget the suffering and hardship that the slaves endured. Great write Ernestine, I adore this type of poetry. Love, Andrew xx
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An indictment on our history forever Ernestine and your verse cries out in the cause of the poor victims....10 + + + Fay.