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Sunday, November 28, 2010

This Thing, the Depression

What was this thing called the Great Depression,
Was it 'Black Tuesday' and the 'Market Crash',
Was it when the banks closed by recession,
Was it the dry wind storms coming to bash?

Was it the farmers unable to yield,
Their fields dried by the wind, no crops to tend,
No food for the children, no gifts to wield,
For a thousand one job, the days to mend.

Starkness left, was it the blank hungry stares,
Of those children dirty left to the streets,
Their baskets empty, no food and no wares,
Chased down by police out walking their beats.

To promised lands many peoples did go,
Then shantytowns built, people struggling so.

One Shoot Sunday *
poem written by
Petrina Lesko
November 2010

This poem was inspired by the photo over at One Shoot Sunday where you can also find others inspired by this photo as well.

About the Photo: Depression Era Childhood Faces (St. Louis, Missouri)
*image care of creative commons flickr:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/rodinal1/2185086399/in/photostream/

7 comments:

Claudia said...

a dark episode in most countries of the world - for a thousand one job - sad reality. thanks for sharing your poem

Aquarius63 said...

A vivid description of what was and what should not be repeated. Well penned.

Anita.

Glynn said...

The Depression was human suffering on a collossal scale, worse than anything American had known previously. For manh, all that was left was "the blank hungry stares." Nice one.

M.L. Gallagher said...

Nice. There is a rhythm to your poem, like riding the rails -- which so many men did during the Great Depression.

You really captured the inexplicable.

PS -- thanks for dropping by my place too!

LouiseG

Maureen said...

I especially like your two concluding lines, which have the quality of a old southern folk song. And how ironic "To promised lands many peoples did go".

nance marie said...

struggle is right.
i enjoyed your rhyme and all the ways you introduced different things about the time.

me_duress said...

Did not notice the empty basket till I read your poem - capures the turmoil of the times and the picture perfectly!