Write the Good Write

Sunday, August 16, 2015

Ancestor Songs: A Poem


The sun burns the clouds away
And scatters the birds
The blue sky is blinded by white
But the fieldworkers pay it no mind
Sweat runs in rivers down their faces
But there are still baskets to weave
There are still stories to tell
Posted by Unknown at 5:49 AM
Email ThisBlogThis!Share to XShare to FacebookShare to Pinterest
Labels: History, Poem

No comments:

Post a Comment

Newer Post Older Post Home
Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

About Me

Unknown
View my complete profile

Blog Archive

  • ▼  2015 (117)
    • ▼  August (32)
      • Black and White: A Poem
      • Men's Rights Meme; Episode One: Talking About Feel...
      • Cloudy: A Poem
      • The Taste of the Storm: A Poem
      • Slipping my Mind: A Poem
      • Bittersweet: A Poem
      • Freedom of Speech
      • How To Do Reboots
      • Moving Forward: A Poem
      • One Minute to Midnight: A Poem
      • Ancestor Songs: A Poem
      • Why I Love Star Trek
      • Ink in My Veins: A Poem
      • Confessions of a Founding Father: A Poem
      • Survival of the Freest: Short Fiction
      • Diversity in Geek Culture
      • Objective Morality
      • Big Bad Wolf: A Poem
      • Planned Parenthood
      • Breaking Free: A Poem
      • Shapes: A Poem
      • Opening the Door: A Poem
      • Censorship and #GamerGate
      • On Lewis' Law
      • Pope Francis and Climate Change
      • Infighting Vs. Legitimate Dissent
      • The Lesser of Two Evils
      • Censorship and Jerry Seinfeld
      • Drugs
      • What Exactly is Feminism?
      • Are Babies Atheists?
      • Walking on Eggshells: A Poem
    • ►  July (85)
Simple theme. Powered by Blogger.