The fields were my home for so many years,
I toiled there in spirit and fear,
But now the red beast has come,
Forced me from the lands,
The red beast has come to make me sit on my hands.
Master has no need for me,
Plantation work is strong work
So the factory is where I will dwell,
Day and night in an angry hell.
The ring, ring, ring of the angry tone,
Time to work,
Are twelve hours gone?
Breaking my back, just to keep my family in a home.
My youngest son,
The prize in my eyes,
Works the factory by my side,
I don’t understand the strife he goes through
All the trouble and pain to help us get food.
In the end what is this about,
It sound sad and horrid without a doubt,
But before you count us out,
You must see what we have that you left without.
We are a family working together,
Side by side forever,
Rebellion is never thought of here,
Father and son always near.
We may not be in the best of positions,
By here inside we are in the right mission.
Author notes
Written December 24th, 2004
A contest entry
- Not-Your-Average-Historical Poems by inyourbloodstream.
300 points, ended January 3, 2005, 5 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
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Great write. Exactly what I wanted in this contest. Nice flow, and I like the rhyme scheme... The rhyme just seems a little forced in a place or two, but well done.
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Thank you I guess this is not my favorite poem..
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Wow... now I understand what you ment about the big vocabulary and the seriousness. This poem is amazing. This is a very interesting historical poem with a very nice feel. Good luck on the contest... although you don't really need it
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