Learn more about other poetry terms
You tell us that we have the constitutional right to speak freely, And therefore I shall fearlessly and openly express my radical opinion. The colours of the Jamaican flag are black, green and gold.
Turmoil, It’s a-a-a word all too familiar to me The turbulent soul with hair like wood grain Sometimes Sometimes it’s more orderly, less entropic
Night, Darkness and Black- so many perspectives so many interpretations... like the owl- here, called tecolote, bu an omen, familiar of witches... whereas in Europe,
Racism shouldn't have power, it should be powerless. Hatred should not be fruitful and allowed to multiply, the seeds it plants should be flowerless. If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all.
It's like a shadow. Falling beside me, but not on me. Or in me. "You're not mixed?" They ask with a questioning smile on their face.
My Nana says she put her foot in them collard greens, so we better eat them all. She says she was up at 6am slaving away over a hot oven so that we can enjoy this cookout feast. But she ain’t gone do all the work herself now.
You're too angry, these statements he said. When he should have taken my hand and asked me where it hurt. Am I invisible to you? You don't see me here? My hips is wide
Black. That's what they see first. Black. That's what they hear first. Black. That's what they touch first. Black. That's what they remember first.
. . . so hush, little baby Baby, don't you cry. . . Hey, Hey, now, Mr. Harvey! Lookin' all sharp and sweet, you do, sir! Yes, Sir! O o o h. . .
growing up I was taught that the straighter and more constraint my hair was then the neater it looked blow dry it, flat iron it and just put it away and why? because for some reason
“X Marked The Rocks” The X in excellence seals your footsteps. Stones trustworthy acts of strength. The “King” was Our Shepard Crown thee majesty honoring such grace.
I am probably death itself I am probably going to kill everything in my path I turn a mans red heart of kindness into a black hole of darkness I see the blackness wrap itself around his heart
When the darkness can have a name
Your writhen thoughts had unexplainable august about them, I wonder from what this could stem? They have remarkable semblance to knotted fingers, The way each twines into my mind and lingers, Drawing me in,
Sleepless nights,wasted days run hand n hand,for a Blackman, great unrest,as evil try to rule through out the land. blood runs deep in the valley of oppression,caused by greed,selfish intent without confession.
Verse 1: We taint the air with idle words Cause sticks and stones hurt the most What’s a jab to the bird? What’s a duel to a roast? Shoot….
Jesus looks like me Her face is brown Her neck is long She cranes her head Over the world She watched behind Red robes. Her curly hair Stands up high It sings praises
I search endlessly into the dark abyss that is my heart. Yearning for that one light, but as I run, grasping for it, the light begins to fade. As I scream, crying out for it to stay... It vanishes. All I see is blackness.
All my things jumbled because the mind is not: and I’ve nothing to reference, so am I truly me?
It seems as though there is no end Just continuous beginnings and outlasting inbetweens Though we know the end must come, we stop and start again Measure the distances from here to there You can see the time passing