Learn more about other poetry terms

The smell of charred peppers fills the room   It was the end of a sweet summer and She had already pickled all the vegetables she needed for the winter
A product of immigrants chasing the American Dream Country full of racism and hate, it’s not all glamour and gleam Witnessed dad beating on mom, can still hear her cry and scream Mom was ready to move out with the kids
  I witnessed in a root that stood in my mother’s garden Brown burning water to mud             then dust,   Polluting veins required for breath,         for leaves hanging like clipped
Subscribe to Peppers