poemranker ::The Slave by Bhaskaryya

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Free verse № 117111

The Slave

by Bhaskaryya

Member since 2004 · Posted 22 Dec 2004 · 3 comments

With a plough in his tired hand, A slave's eyes wander across the hired land And rests over the lass fair in the end, Rapt by the sight of the sun, on her golden hair descend. A soft dream overshadows that weary eye, But he looks away with a dreary sigh, For he has learned to yield to fate, Life for him is a ride from field to crate.

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mean 6.40 weighted 5.17 rank 5026 views 182 View voting details →

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3 comments

[9] Dovina 22-Dec-04/10:47 AM Reply
Good.
Line 2 - "And rest"
Ling 3 - "descending."
[9] jroday 22-Dec-04/11:29 AM Reply
I agree with Dovina. good poem work on it a little more
[6] horus8 22-Dec-04/11:07 PM Reply
Sounds like that neeger wants a leetle white wheestle.