Raspberry Picker

March 4, 2012
By xoSamanthaxo GOLD, New York, New York
xoSamanthaxo GOLD, New York, New York
12 articles 0 photos 21 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Forget all the rules. Forget about being published. Write for yourself and celebrate writing."
-Anonymous


The sunshine sprinkled
Over my face like burning ambers
My hands were sweating
As I tightened my grip on the
Wooden baskets,
Overflowing with
Purple, plump raspberries
I forced my legs to keep walking
It felt like if I didn’t
Stop to rest, they would
Crack like stone and
Turn to dust
Like the warm sand
Under my bare feet.
I put a little raspberry into my mouth,
And as I stared into
Nothing,
I tasted its sour bitterness.


The author's comments:
This poem is about berry pickers whom were typically as young as six in the early 1900's. These children were paid very meager amounts of money and were forced into labor.

Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 0 comments.



SciArc

MacMillan Books

Aspiring Writer? Take Our Online Course!