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Blog Archive

Thu, 24.09.2009

TO CINQUE by James M. Whitfield.

All hail!

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Thu, 24.09.2009

THE FOERUNNERS (from America) by James M. Whitfield.

America, it is to thee,
Thou boasted land of liberty,-
It is to thee I raise my song
Thou land of blood, and crime, and wrong.
It is to thee, my native land,
From which has issued many a band
To tear the black man from his soil,
And force him here to delve and toil;
Chained on your blood-be moistened sod,
Cringing beneath a tyrant’s rod,
Stripped of those rights which Nature’s God
Bequeathed to all the human race,
Bound to a pretty tyrant’s nod,
Because he wears a paler face…

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New Poem Each Day

Poetry Corner

I placed a flower on your grave today. I knew you were not there— but far away A fleecy white cloud floated Blotting out a million miles of mystery and blue. Perhaps in... TO A PAL by A. V. Hall.
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