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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

What desperate nightmare rapts me to this land Lit by a bloody moon, red on the hills, Red in the valley's, Why am I compelled To tread again where buried feet have... LEGACY: MY SOUTH by Dudley Randall.
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