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The Sound of the Home Drums

Updated on October 24, 2011

Never forgets your roots,

The roots of your hair,

Was it blond, brunette, of black,

It was a mixture of red, blue or

the colour of a peacock tail,

The roots of your ancestors,

Who came over on the slave ship,

Call "Disaster Man Drip"'

capture by the white man,

Migrated like animal,

Force to harvest his land.

He change they name,

Its over five hundred years,ago,

Its still a crying shame,

You are not to blame,

Drifting out to sea,

while home drums, echo out,

bum, bum, bum, tum

in the still of the night,

The sound of weeping mothers

As they fall to the ground,

So, long, so long,

Where is our sons and daughters

Our only sons...

They came from Kings and Queens,

they black skin shine brighter than

golden beams,

They carefree life,

wasn't free anymore,

They were locked down below,

on the cold damp cabin floor,

Many days of hunger, feeling cold

As tears flow,

Oh! how they long for the sound,

Of home drums, home drums,

The vessel sail both day and night

heading to Guernsey Bay

On that dark cloudy day,

They spirit was weaken,

and they was beaten,

Terrific with fright,

During the still of the night,

Heading to a life of uncertainty

Into to years of Slavery,

Home drums, home drums,

Freedom will be many of years

To come.

Lovely and dark

cool as a guiness

on a hot summer day

caramel center heart of gold

Homeland is calling me

am I really free,

Are we really free,

Homeland awaits me

Your Queen Annie/Amee


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    • Darknlovely3436 profile image

      Annie 6 years ago from NewYork

      Anomie a sense of loneliness and anxiety ... homeland is calling me....

    • Darknlovely3436 profile image

      Annie 8 years ago from NewYork

      Thank you very much, love to tell a story in my poems

    • bayareagreatthing profile image

      bayareagreatthing 8 years ago from Bay Area California

      Wow that is just beautiful!