My name is Joe and I'm a 15 year old male living in Melbourne, Australia. Currently i am learning about African American history and the slave trade. We were told to give a presentation of our choice to show our knowledge of this topic and i decided to write a poem.. Any responses would be much appreciated and i would love any advice or criticism...
Thanks
History Project- Joe Strimling
Slavery Poem
INTRO:
My name was Kunta Kinta- at least to begin
A life being judged by the colour of my skin
When I reflect on my journey into a world of hurt
It’s hard to tell my story, being treated like dirt
But it started in Africa, as a young 17 year old man
A story of hardship and slavery, this is where it began
STORY:
We were taught by the elders, how to hunt and provide
We were taught to live with strength, honour and pride
These skills being taught to us, one, two, three
Was our plan for life and how it should be
But that all went away on that very fateful day
Ghosts, devils, demons is what they always say
They landed on-shore, with their knife and their gun
Me and some others, we were told to quickly run
So run we did, throughout the land
As the horrible ‘suited’ men, hit the sand
We were hunted like animals, for a day or two
Until there wasn’t much more that we could do
They found us eventually, tied us up by the neck
And the next thing we know, we were boarding the deck
No space, it’s all crampt, a metre maybe more
Some people being chained now, to the poles and the floor
The sickness that we experienced caused disease and death
Some people stayed silent, others screampt to their last breath
So much was uncertain, so much was unclear
So many exhausted, so many filled with fear
We’d been stripped from our home and shipped off for weeks
We’d barely been fed and the dead bodies began to wreak
Finally the day came, the ship had docked
We were pulled off the boat, our body still locked
By the steel shackles that bind together our freedom
These foolish white people really believe that we need them
But they know nothing of the people that we truly are
But nor did we of them, no, now we were too far
After a day or so of being kept in a cage
And being taunted by a white man, filled with rage
We started getting called out, one at a time
And put up on stage, surely you would think this is a crime
These men would come up, check our muscles, strength and teeth
It didn’t matter to any of them, what actually was beneath
Whatever we could do to satisfy their pleasures
We were bought and sold to increase these strangers’ treasures
A loud man shouts and screams ever so fast
Bidding us off, as the next African past
My name was called, Kunta-Kinta he said
This fast speaking man, this moment I dread
A big man stepped up and started to look
I seemed to have what he wanted, so me, he took
He pulled once more by the rope and the chain
Into his horse and carriage, in so much pain
I was taken to his farm, to his large plantation
And told “this is what you’ll do, here’s your work station”.
He pointed to a field of many many crop
So many to see, it just wouldn’t stop
I could see other workers, really working hard
In the cotton fields and out cleaning his yard
It was hard to accept this, what I had to do
Just believe in a better day- that’s all I knew
I was shown my living area, a farmhouse, some hay
A bucket for some food and livestock in the way
I would work the field all night and day
Until the hair on my head, all turned grey
So basically this was now my future, to do as I was told
Work all day in boiling heat, and sleeping out in the cold
This was ultimately my life, my story and my struggle
It was hard time for me; I had to watch my world crumble
There was nothing I could do, nothing really to achieve
So the best thing for me was just to believe
That a brighter day would come and we will all unite
And god will help these white men, all see the light
That all men are created equal and we can live together
In a peaceful, accepting land, forever and ever
