CreationEarth Nature Photos
Submit Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Best Slavery Poems

Below are the all-time best Slavery poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of slavery poems written by PoetrySoup members

Search for Slavery poems, articles about Slavery poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Slavery poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

Definition & Discussion of Slavery Poems
Read Slavery Poems
New Slavery Poems

See also: Best Famous Poems

New Slavery Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Slavery poems are below this new poems list.

The Underground Railroad 'Slavery' by Aj, hafssa
Imbibing Between the Slavery by Black, Robert
Sold into Slavery - No more Masks Contest by ROBERTS, SEREN
Slavery cave by Tennakoon, Udaya R.
Save our children from slavery by Sathasivam, Ravi
Slavery Train by Mitts , Mikayla
Face Of Modern Slavery by mcdaid, liam
Slavery and Unsavory by Horn, James
An aphorism about slavery by Bellesia, Nino Luca

View all new Slavery Poems

The Best Slavery Poems

Details | Slavery Poem | |

Northern Slaves

In the silent breathing of night,
treading through 
the darkness and the hush
(A heavy band of slave)
like black ants snaking
through the forlorn distance.
Grieving with tears
Of yesterdays burning anguish. 
They hum a languid song
On the fragrant breath of wind.
A haunt that invades my trembling eyes 
With a thousand boundless tears
That quivers through the night.

The dreaded echoes came down the black pathway
Like a thousand men 
Galloping through the sultry breeze
(Were the heartless whips that toiled)
With dumb hands,
Feeding paled pink flesh 
With endless stings of cruel misery.

The stars curled around their naked feet
As they trampled the grass 
Wet with lurid dew and the masked
Beds of fragrant hues
Prancing in the hallowed night.
I could feel the storming of their sorrows,
The rock of their heart
Drooping with defeat.
Despair a master to their fading hope
That sailed across their faces.
Oh those foul notes budding with despair
Branched within their eyes.

The lulling whispers of their shackles
United with their treading feet like hooves
Cloaked with heavy weariness
(It surrounded the dead of night)

I hung up my fears
For I was bright with their pain
Oh I died that day 
Oh I died that day
While drifting to the helpless East
To that damp cold earth filled
With drowsy mournful Asters
Then the smell of dead men came alive
Black dogs clustered to the earth
Their children beside them with gripping hands!


Copyright © Mustapha Mohammed | Year Posted 2013

Details | Slavery Poem | |


Please pick me up!
Never mind I'm gonna fall, anyways
Please show me how to tie my shoes and sing a song! 
Don't worry mommy, I'll walk barefoot and teach myself one day
Please daddy show me how to ride my bike!
Never mind It takes up too much of your time
Mommy, please do not hit me again!
It's okay, I need to be taught a lesson
Cousin please do not touch!
Go ahead, they won't believe me anyway
Teacher, please defend me in school!
Never mind, my body is used to the abuse
Please don't tell me sleeping with you is the only way! 
Okay, I need to be loved even if it's for one night
Please teach me how to raise a baby!
It's okay, I can't blame others for my mistake
Please don't get violent when you drink tonight!'
If it makes you feel better hit me, 
I'll hide the bruise with makeup & tears
Please tell me that I'm beautiful!
Wait! Your right I'll never look like her!
Please someone call 911!
Never mind, it's only a broken bone
Officer, please don't take my husband?
Don't you know it was my fault, he loves me and won't hit me again
Please don't ask what happen to my face!
That's what I get for standing up and defending myself
Please God don't take my baby!
Go ahead and take her I don't deserve her
Please don't tell me your not in love with me!
I understand I'll never be worthy of your heart
Please don't walk away and break my heart!
It's okay, I never made progress or was good enough
Please someone help, I'm hurting inside!
Never mind my feelings don't count
Please God, can you hear me!
Please God, can you rescue me!
Please God, can you walk with me!
Please God, can you show me the way!
God- I was a baby, I was weak, and did not talk
God- you didn't protect me on my first fall
God- I was abandoned and neglected before I learned to crawl!
God- even you rejected all my prayers and call
I understand now I don't need nothing! 
I don't need no one at ALL
So PLEASE, PLEASE leave me alone, behind these walls 
.                              **
Please! If you read this teach me how to smile
WAIT! Smiles don't come with self blame & guilt


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2011

Details | Slavery Poem | |

Pirate Bay

```Pirate Bay the Haiku``` 

pirates fierce and mean 
drowning fish, sea to sea 
parrots on their butt 

```Polly Wants A Cracker``` 

bloodthirst & brutal 
Quartermaster Gone Wild 
dirty wings on deck 

```Sea World Adventure``` 
ship crew goes on strike 
sailing the Caribbean 
wooden leg splashing 


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015

Details | Slavery Poem | |


Like a herd of cattle, placed on a ship.
Upon my back, I felt their whip!
Ripping into my flesh, excruciating pain.
Forced across the big water on a trip.

Living in darkness with little to eat.
The feel of chains around my feet.
Amidst tortured cries, the ship did shake.
Waves pounded the hull with relentless beat.

Only once a day, would we see the sky.
Huge sails, caused the ship to fly.
Further and further away from my home.
Feeling confused not understanding why!

A white devil, steered the wooden ship.
All his mates evil with scabbed putrid lips.
Yet we, depended on them for our lives.
Without them, into the ocean we'd slip.

The journey long, felt like an eternity!
I longed to be anywhere but on the sea.
My mind occupied with thoughts of my home.
yet, I could not escape this horrible enemy!

Sick and dying were forced to walk the plank.
Then into the cold water they quickly sank.
The sailors laughed, as the last man was tossed!
Their spirits boistered with the rum they drank.

Many days later we finally made land.
A place of stone and wood, I could see no sand.
Crack of the whip, we rose to our feet.
"Off of my ship!"was the devil's final command!

For Verlena's "Writing in a black Perspective" Contest

Story continued for my own pleasure, not part of the entry.

Slave Part Two

Brought in chains, to a raised wooden stage.
Bids tallied carefully, sales written on a page.
That was when I witnessed, a most perfect girl.
Bought by a fat man, she was placed in a cage!

I was up next, I stood still as he bid on me.
"One dollar, gimme two, two dollars, sold for three!"
Then I was taken and locked up in the cage with her.
Together we both dreamt, of one day being free.

Brought to the plantation, in late September.
I worked in cotton fields, until November.
Then I would be purposed, to cutting fire wood.
For cold and snow came, by early December.

In the evening, we were left to be with our kind.
While in the big house, our master dined.
Later at dusk, my angel girl would come.
Her beauty so amazing, she made me blind!

The taste of her body, my rememberance of home.
We gave each other pleasure, when we were alone.
Even though the master, wanted her for only him.
I felt like a free man, when I would hear her moan!

Her pregnant, I wondered if the child was mine?
If I was the father, I would be bound in twine.
Still inside I prayed, that the child belonged to me.
In the end, that would be certainly be fine.

Nine months later, almost to the day.
The love of my life was taken away.
In death our child born, middle of September.
The master's anger, I could not sway.

I was awoken, ripped out of my bed!
He took out a musket loaded with lead.
Finally free, in spirit we both travel.
There are certainly worse things, than being dead!

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015

Details | Slavery Poem | |

The Daddy

In the rundown little house where her family currently lives, the fourteen-year old glances obediently at her glaring daddy, nodding her head in quiet compliance to his usual horrible demands of her for the evening. Not to acquiesce would incur his utter wrath, and that is something she has learned well by now to avoid. Things are not like the old days, when she was twelve, feeling so lost, and he would lavish her with little gifts: bracelets with charms, cute purses, chocolate candies. . . With warm aqua eyes, he’d smile his approval as she whirled around the room, modeling a pretty dress for him. In those days when her world had fallen apart, he’d taken her in. His voice would softly soothe her then, chasing away her every fear. Back to reality. Daddy’s voice now is laced with menace. And his eyes are ice blue marbles staring through her. “Do what wifey says,” he instructs her at the door as she leaves with four other sisters and the one of legal age, her sister-wifey. Leaning in to her, his breath like chill wind on her nape, he whispers, “And you better be VERY good with your dates this time.” The young girl, in high heels, slit skirt, and heavy makeup, has exited the door when her daddy barks commands to his helper in the living room, and then Daddy exits too, but through the garage, where a Mercedes Benz is parked. He drives alone, a short trip across town to his other house - the one with manicured lawn and garden and a large pool out back - the large beautiful house where a real wife and a real daughter await him. “How was your day?” his beautiful young wife gushes as he crosses the threshold in his expensive business suit. “Oh, just another day at the office,” he quips, leaning in to give her a soft kiss. Then his young daughter comes bounding down the stairs, broadly grinning. “Daddy, look at the new dress you bought me!” She twirls with adolescent glee. The man, with blue eyes dancing, looks his fourteen-year-old daughter up and down. “Sweetie, you know I don’t like you wearing lipstick yet.” “Oh, Daddy,” she teases, “I’ll be dating soon.” “Afraid not,” he lovingly chides her. “Those boys will just have to wait at least for two more years. For now, you are Daddy’s little girl.” Written May 22, 2016 for the "Split Personalities" Contest of Brian Davey

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016

Details | Slavery Poem | |




These salted memories tell stories
The oceans and seas gave birth to.

Over the tempestuous waters
Echoes from the bellies of slave ships
Ride the tides of history

Spreading ripples over the shores
Of time proclaiming forgiveness
For lost souls.

We sashay along bleached beaches 
Where white sands mask the shed blood;
And splashing waves drown out
The ghost echoes of rattling chains:

We no longer remember
Our beginnings here.

Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2015

Details | Slavery Poem | |

The beginning of the end

Ive been trying to fill this hole in my chest.
I promised I pleaded but you still left like all the rest.
So here I sit once again all alone.
You wont even shoot a text to my phone.
So this is where I fail to stay strong.
This life of mine starts to go wrong.
So I fried up the brass.
I apply heat to get this bubble in the glass.
I heat the rock and watch it melt down.
I'm all smiles in the happiness that Ive found.
Before I knew it im drawing out of the silver spoon.
One, two, blastoff soon ill be higher then the moon.
You get that little burn in the back of your throat.
Hang on cowboy cause you just hit some bomb dope. 
Then comes the ringing in your ears.
Just sit back and all your worries and fears will simply disappear.
Don't worry about the lights fading in and out.
That's the dope coursing through your veins ya your high no doubt.
The color will leave your eyes.
Your body is engulfed in warmth and a million butterflies.
But now the demon has got you like a needle to thread.
Welcome to the struggle cause you got to keep the demon fed.
Now we've been up for nights and days.
Given up hope we surcome to her ways.
When she leaves you she leaves you feeling dead.
You cant silence the voices screaming inside your head.
Now you just look for the next high.
Cause without that demon you wanna die.
People will wonder where have you been.
Its no secret with those track marks up and down your skin.
Now you will know new lows.
Its a sad story but thats just how it goes.
Now your so alone and feel so close to death.
Just remember who did this her name is crystal meth.
Now if you could relive that day.
When your pal held out that needle tell what would you have to say.

Copyright © Johnny White | Year Posted 2014

Details | Slavery Poem | |

Behind These Prison Walls

I prowl the days within myself
To heal these battle scars
But days at times unwrapps itself
With binding sturdy bars.

That holds me back from freedom's grace
From the man I'd hoped to be
Often scans my troubled face
In search of empty glee.

All my days since life begun
The constant fight appalls
Often glows what strength has won
Behind these prison walls.

Copyright © Mustapha Mohammed | Year Posted 2013

Details | Slavery Poem | |

Save our children from slavery

Save our children from slavery........ Our beautiful children are forced to hard labor by some of the evil people on earth And they kill their soul. Those little hands are holding hard tools instead of holding school books Those little hands are touching dirty sand instead of their mother's hands They listen to their evil men called masters instead of their school teachers Struggling for their bread at infant stage instead for the struggling for their career Mothers are crying for their children and want to save them from their darkness of future Many years have been passed but not a single year has been cared for them Because of our careless leadership our children are still living in slavery Let us join together and save our little children from the hell of slavery. Ravi Sathasivam / Sri Lanka All rights are reserved @ 2015

Copyright © Ravi Sathasivam | Year Posted 2015

Details | Slavery Poem | |

A Casual Exchange

“Oh Edgar, look at those poor slaves, traipsing after His All Important, High and Mighty, Landlord.”
	“I wish I was a slave.”
	“Hush your mouth Edgar. Don’t be saying such things.”
	“But I do.”
“Look at them May Bel, walking along the road, in their tunics and hose. While we stand here in the mud, our backs covered with more holes, than rag.”
	“But Edgar at least we have our freedom.”
	“Our what? Freedom? I’ve lived on this road all my thirty two years, and never once have I walked it in the direction that they’re going. I’ve only ever walked to the market and back. Just like my father before me.
	Freedom, aah the freedom to come out here into this field, in the rain and snow. To dig this dirt that really needs a rest. And to find that there’s not enough potatoes or carrots to sell for the rent. Let alone our dinner. Slaves don’t have pay rent, or pay taxes.
	The freedom to hear our children’s bellies growl, after they have finished their boiled grass. Look at those slave’s bellies, under their tunics May Bel. Do they look like they go hungry?”
	“We are free to love.”
	“We’re all free to fall in love.”
	“Oh Edgar, that’s enough.”
	“Well, Love won’t put a roof over your head.”
	“Edgar, you do disappoint me so.”
	“Now that I think about it, there’s a hole above your mother’s bed. Did you know? She’ll be trying to sleep with us and the kids, next time it rains. That’ll probably be tonight.
	Edmund tells me these slaves get housed in dungeons. Now there’s a place that would have a good roof, if ever I heard.”
	“And what would your All Knowledgeable, Brother Edmund know about such things? Just listening to gossip, the two of you.”
	“Well at least the Landlord cares enough about those slaves to give them those tunics…”
	“Watch what you’re doing with that stick Edgar! You nearly put it through that potato there. Be more careful.”
	“Through that potato? This stick isn’t even sharp enough to pierce that potato’s skin. I bet the slaves get things like spades and forks to use.”
	“Full of the grumbles today, aren’t we. You must have got out of the wrong side of the bed.”
	“That bed…”
	“Oh no! Don’t be starting on that bed.”
I don't write much prose any more, but I thought you'd like this old one.

Copyright © scott thirtyseven | Year Posted 2014

Details | Slavery Poem | |

Hollow Thrones

Hollow Thrones

Death and destruction reigning in filth over dry bones
  kings ruling over weaker souls with little hope,
drowned deep, cast overboard loaded with misery stones
 unmercifully hung with no justice and short rope

So proudly the kings rule over subjects so very poor
 no concept of the natural rights of mortal man,
having power , treasure and selfish desires by the score
 completely unconcerned with life's ever so brief span

Shallow pleasures lusted without thought of coming reward
 stolen time and freedoms from more deserving souls,
unmindful of the many stolen lives so desperately scarred
 judgment awaiting in deeply unforgiving , darkened holes

Reigns of tyranny reaped as bushels of rotten fruits
 while spirit raping of better women, children, and men,
falsely rewarded homage paid from wickedly evil roots
 soon to be given eternity in their evil Master's den

Robert L. 05-25-2014

Read a book this morn on the great Empires long since destroyed,
with more of the same always filling the void.... 
Mankind simply refuses to ever learn...

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2014

Details | Slavery Poem | |


America has another name
her name is Freedom
hidden behind political, racial, medical
Federal banks
economical, educational, social
all fixed corporations
means extra banks
we the people protest our freedom
we’re calling for freedom
America show us our freedom
life requires no credits to score
we are enlightened beings
so much more
so much more than rich man, poor man
Groundhog-----going in circles
working 15 hours a day man
we’re calling for freedom
liberty is our birthright
to roam the earth at will is our birthright
we are freedom
we say freedom
America live up to your name
your name is Freedom
freedom is the word
word is law
America follow the law
the law says freedom
we demand truth
we demand mental freedom

Copyright © BLUE33 NailahBaniti | Year Posted 2015

Details | Slavery Poem | |


A nobody 
Scared by the sound of his own voice
Following the girl home from school
In his mind this is normal
Stalking girls
He grabs her jacket
Pulling her backwards unto the ground
Placing a cloth around her nose and mouth
Gagging her until she sleeps for a while
He drags her through the woods
Branches hitting her every which way he turns
Dragging her along until he reaches the cabin
Picking her up over his shoulders opening the door to the cellar
Locking the door behind him he walks down the stairs slowly
He places her on a chair and ties her wrist to the handles
Tying her feet to the legs of the chair
Tightening the rope around her neck to the back of the chair
He undresses her waiting for her to wake up
Several hours pass 
She wakes up
Sweating and screaming
Crying and yelling at him
He places duct tape around her mouth
Placing a knife against her stomach
She groans and yelps
He takes the knife away and looks at her
Grabbing her face and telling her shes beautiful
He turns around and stands with his back towards her
As he starts to say
But its the beautiful people that need fixing
He takes the tape off her face and holds her chin tightly
He carves a smile on her face
Cutting her mouth from ear to ear
Telling her
Smile dear it makes you adorable
He grins and sits the knife down
Laughing as she bleeds
She tries to move her mouth
It just drops open
He looks at her smiling
Now that makes you truly beautiful
He leaves her there for a while
Later returning
Placing a needle with a string attached to it
Sticking it into the skin around her mouth that is hanging open
He stitches her back together
Cant make up his mind
He slaps her and leaves her there for another few days
She sits with her eyes peeled wide open
A tear falling as she tries wiggling her hand free from the rope
As she frees her hand she runs her fingers over her stitches
Only to find out her whole mouth has been stitched together
She cant speak
She can only mumble
She frees the rest of  her limbs
Trying to stand up and walk but she's to weak and falls
He runs down the stairs
Yelling at her to get up
She doesn't move
He kicks her in the stomach
She doesn't budge
He picks her up and uses her as a puppet 
For his own needs
He then buries her beside his other victims
Only to find out shes still alive
Her hand slips through the dirty old mud


Copyright © Orlin Collier | Year Posted 2013

Details | Slavery Poem | |

Lucky Numbers 2, 10, 24, 65, 93

You don’t know this but
we’re all ISBN’s. At birth,
we’re tattooed across our asses
with barcodes, ID tags, social security numbers.
The only doctors allowed
to perform this surgical move
were trained in suits and sunglasses,
were handcuffed to computer suitcases,

held galas in mansions in the hills
of Virginia, roamed secretly through tunnels
beneath Abe Lincoln’s feet, they infiltrated
every hospital, mandated staff to hand over
the key cards. Don’t be alarmed.

Chocolate brownies can still
hold good dreams, peanuts, and marijuana.
This information should not stop you,
you wondered before about those
seven digits printed across the tops of your pay stubs,
didn’t you? And the 48906 signature on every document
from your university.

Yes, you see now. All along,
that tattoo on your soul numbers destiny:
one of the numbers stands for the birthday
of your child, one for the day your parents will find
cancer sinking its teeth in their osteoperostic bones,
and one lists the street address of the building
you will die in. The hospital’s phone number
is merely a set of numbers. Ask them

what they’ve done to you, and they’ll shrug
their white-collar shoulders.

To view this poem on my blog, visit

Copyright © Kelsey May | Year Posted 2015

Details | Slavery Poem | |

1140 Royal Street

The first time I met Madame La Laurie, was in 1832 When she and her third husband (Dr. Louis La Laurie) purchased me. My first impression of Madame La Laurie was that she was soft spoken, of fine breeding, and very beautiful.  

Upon her arrival, she wasted no time filling every nook and cranny at 1140 Royal Street with the finest furniture and china that money could buy. No one looking at the  plain exterior of this house, would ever expect such opulence within it walls.

She wore the latest fashions from Paris with a flare beyond rival, even by the most inducted social lights of the hour, which did not go unnoticed.  Both men and women, would stop in their tracks to gaze upon this regal beauty as she strolled down the main streets of New Orleans.

Soon, with the aide of her husbands connections through his practise, she, gained  acceptance into the higher circles of the community and began hosting what would become, the most sought after dinner invitations in all of New Orleans.

This was the one side of Madame La Laurie that the world saw, but it was I, who bore witness to the other side. NEVER could anyone have ever imagined the atrocities this women committed in her chamber of horrors on the 3rd floor as she maimed, tortured and  murdered any slave that displeased her. 


I was burned badly, when one slave, wanting to end his misery, set a fire in the kitchen, finally bringing her reign of terror to and end, where upon she  fled in her hell driven carriage, into the night, never to be seen again. 

Today, I stand here at 1140 Royal street, completely unrecognizable. I have a different face now. The only thing left one would recognize from that day, would be the old path that runs between me and the adjacent house.  

Lush green foliage now grows along its edge, in what I like to think, a remembrance to the tortured souls who died here.

Between these brick walls
Bright light filters from above
Old seeds bloom again

BUT...IF YOU DARE to walk between these walls, me, THAT OLD HOUSE IN NEW ORLEANS, might see the apparitions of the tortured souls still residing there.


Poetry form: Haibun

For the contest, A House In New Orleans, sponsor, Lin Lane


Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2016

Details | Slavery Poem | |

Meditate like life

Wake ’n bake
Wake and meditate
Meditate like Buddha
Meditate your mind
Mind over matter
Mind is infinite
Infinite dreams
Infinite power
Power to heal 
Power to see
See beyond
See the truth
Truth be told 
Truth within
Within my heart
Within my soul
Soul spark
Soul searching
Searching for me
Searching to be free
Free to be me
Free mental slavery
Slavery beyond color
Slavery disguised 
Disguised as a job
Disguised as money
Money piece of paper
Money the illusion
Illusion we live in
Illusion called life
Life after life
Life is just a game
Game evil vs. good
Game to play
Play like child
Play to learn
Learn to share
Learn to care
Care about nature
Care about love
Love yourself
Love art
Art of abundance 
Art of nothingness
Nothingness is life
Life is a dream
Life is love

Copyright © Cheryl Glans | Year Posted 2015

Details | Slavery Poem | |

Same Old Boats

Bring your guns
Bring your boats
Boats filled with ghosts
Boats weighted with chains
Chains that will one day break
Chains that will carry
Carry us to Zion
Carry our pain
Pain born of separation 
Pain that preceded
Preceded our birth
Preceded our rising
Rising here within a new nation
Rising for we know
Know that Ja is merciful
Know that Abraham smiles
Smiles upon the righteous
Smiles though our tears
Tears that lift
Tears of joy
Joy born 
Joy gained in freedom
Freedom that we took
Freedom we reclaimed
Reclaimed by us a strong people
Reclaimed by transcendent men
Men of purpose
Men who are Ja's chosen people
People who know our purpose
People who cry
Cry for our babies
Cry for Mother
Mother Africa 
Mother of all children
Children who ripped from her
Children who grew pale
Pale as papyrus
Pale for they lack compassion 
Compassion died
Compassion exchanged for greed
Greed that intoxicated
Greed for flesh
Flesh of coco
Flesh subjegated to their wanting
Wanting more power
Wanting things to stay the same
Same for us men
Same promise to set free

For Marugu MO's "Race Relations Contest".

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2016

Details | Slavery Poem | |


A storm is brewing, slow, but strong
And those who do so many wrong
Shall pay their price - and when the gong
does sound, they all shall fade.
And we shall axe, it shan't be long,
The palace's charade.*

On pompous thrones adorned with gold
they sit, so wrongly smug and bold.
They know no word for kind - So cold
and merciless their speech.
But soon, their might, as we foretold,
Cannot our purpose reach.

A storm is brewing, slow, but sure,
Its last defeat shall be our cure.
Our tyrant's ways shall not recur,
Our bolt will find its mark.
Their royal fate they shall incur,
We'll watch the skies turn dark.

From the point of view of an oppressed person before the French Revolution

* The pronunciation of 'charade' used here (American) rhymes with fade.

Posted 18/04/2016
For the contest 'A Storm is Brewing'
Sponsor: Kelly Deschler

Form: Burns Stanza
Syllable Count and Rhyme Scheme checked 
The title 'The Track of a Storm' is from The Tale of Two Cities

Copyright © Sneha RV The literature lover | Year Posted 2016

Details | Slavery Poem | |


Freedom! Glorious freedom The cry of the enslaved To break the bonds of oppression Freedom!

Copyright © john beharry | Year Posted 2014

Details | Slavery Poem | |

The Tears Of Our Fathers

Tears of our fathers of old A silent cry through whips of toil In rain and in the frozen cold They work the harvest of the soil. Tears of our fathers of old The men that lapped the morsels The tasteless bread of mold A fitting feast to mongrels. As if joy was a distant glow Or freedom,infinite moons away Death's heartless striking blow Was a sweet and wonderous day. At the cruel hands of the overseers Their sorrows renewed each day A beast of labour in many tears In the stinging sparkling ray. Through history's ruthless pages Forlorn are memories that gathers Through the past century stages The tears of our fathers!

Copyright © Mustapha Mohammed | Year Posted 2013

Details | Slavery Poem | |

Lost Identity: View point of a slave

Why is my skin color different?
Did God make me this way?
When he made me, did he have
intentions on me being a slave?

And I thought we were all brothers,
including all the ones of different colors.

But why are they beating and hurting the others.
Someone save me, I didn't choose this life.
These scars, they've carved me with the sharpest

All I have is my faith.
Because if I'd held on to anything else
it'd be theres to take.

What is it that I ask for?
Equality, I preach.
Something small to you, 
but makes a difference
for me.

Whipping, spitting, hitting on me.
Raping our women in your wife's sheets.
Taking our children and turning them into workers.
No sense of empathy, grief or composer.

For the brotha' on my left and my sista' on the right,
with the courage that I hold I will continue to fight.
You have taken away my freedom, and most of my life.
But what you have failed to obtain is my state of mind.

Go ahead work my body, and do all that you please.
This is just a shell anyway, it's not coming with me.
You spit, you laugh, thinking you gained the world.
You think you have power because you've raped a young girl.

Stand tall sir with all of that pride.
And go ahead and hold it until the day that you die.
But your day will come when you'll fall to your knees.
Feeling the burn on your body from the whips you've given me.

"The LORD is my shelter,"
I continue to say.
While my soul goes up as God takes me away.
I wish you peace with smile on my face,
knowing that God teaches the fullness of grace.

Copyright © Amber Binford | Year Posted 2014

Details | Slavery Poem | |

I am a slave

My message lies not in the sentence
If you learn to read between the lines
You will hear stories in my silence
My life is not about roses and wines

I look strong on the exterior
But I am weak on the interior
I may be smiling on the outside
But I am hurting on the inside

Copyright © John Pen | Year Posted 2014

Details | Slavery Poem | |


Hey innocent creatures and fellow addicts
I am famous because of your littered affections
Thank you for keeping me in your body temples 
It’s been a minute in decades
I pray my confession speaks fewer accusations

I live in disordered functions
My dream is to vacuum all souls in gender matrix   
All sweet little innocent skins sucking my venomous pleasures 
Those that endlessly smile build homes for my siblings

I am not real though my kids spread wings in your siblings
I sold graves until poets spoke of me 
My words lived in actions until poets painted my missions
I travel across countries in simple missionaries and constructed styles

That poetic confession of a rapist exposed my motive and skills 
I thank the devil for he blinded your eardrums 
The one you ignored and knocked with your stone judgements 
before he defined his punch lines on stage
The fame chaser who spoke and personified my visions
He renovated words and replaced female bodies with spoken vaccines 

I am your disease you’ll never be at ease
My soldiers go to war anonymously while you breathe peace
Your spoken vaccines will live in your piece of papers
Please Please 
Public protectors you scratch my ears with your poetic skins

Like i said
Hey innocent creatures and fellow addicts

(c) Ray

Copyright © Raymond Ngomane | Year Posted 2014

Details | Slavery Poem | |


I work hard
Back breakingly hard
I am not paid

A lot of people got me to
This new world
Both foreign looking
And ones who’s skin glistened
In the sun
And was as dark as me

I will never forget
The pains of crossing that ocean
Till my confinement in squalor
I had never seen so much water
How can we be treated so I wondered
By people who though different
Were just like me ?

My wretchedness had only begun when I entered that ship
Death took many on the way
But grudgingly stayed far away from me
He apparently didn’t feel any fraternity 

Humanity I threw away as I vomited
On the deck of that wretched ship
I found on landing no reason
To suppose it would ever come back to me

That is all I do
I am a machine
Machines on the estate are valuable
And well looked after
But I am easily replaced so
I am mere fodder

In the fields I toil
For cane
For cotton
For money for the owner far away
No one appreciates
How dismal life can be

My master gets my brother to beat me
That hurts
It pained me so especially
As I worked with sweat flowing off my back
That stung with each lash 
I never felt such resentment 

I have seen many a sun rise in this new land
I was young when I arrived with
So much fear in my heart
I don’t remember where I came from
I buried that inside me a long time ago

I see new faces everyday
Fresh and green and sick as I was
I now laugh
I am not heartless but the pain they feel
Is no less intense in me now that
I am the one who will show them
Their new despair
An inescapable despair

One day I will be free
I will feel my soul float over that ocean
And carry me home
I do hope they will remember me
For I have been gone a long time
Since they captured me

Copyright © evrod samuel | Year Posted 2014

Details | Slavery Poem | |

A Slave

Please sir don’t sell me to that man
I beg you sir, I’ll behave as I can 
I heard that he whips his slaves with lashes 
And burn them with cigarettes and…..
Make them eat their ashes

Please sir please I beg your kind heart
Please sir, please let us leave this mart
I beseech you sir not to sell me to that ogre
My dear lord! He’s starting to look at me and ogle!

Please sir don’t be deceived by his money and pomp
Because he keeps girls whether in his bed or tomb!
Please sir, keep me and I’ll be your obedient slave
Please sir don’t send straight to hell and grave 

I heard that he makes his slaves work till they fall
And when one does, he tortures him till goes out his soul
But if some of them survived on and got old
He shoots them! Indeed sir! That’s what I’ve been told

(After yoking them and exploiting their toil and plod
He drinks sweet wine, and they taste their own blood) 
Then he throws their bodies into the river
He’s the devil himself, I heard like such doings never

Please sir, keep me as your possession 
And save me from his cruelty and aggression 
Please sir don’t be affected by his amount of gold
And whatever happens please don’t say to him: Sold! 

Copyright © Mohamed Adel | Year Posted 2015