Learn more about other poetry terms

Preface: I am a 6’5” homosexual cis white man Which is to say I am privileged Which is also to say I kinda get it.   Poem:   I am sitting on my bed I do that a lot lately
Black, White. Muslim, Christian. Rich, Poor. We are covered in labels, And drowning in sterotypes. We can't break free, From the painful lies. My skin is white,
A virtual color to discuss, I wish today Asked someone, is it a color? Says Nay Thoughts provocation has taken in mind the war-form Arranging them in rhymes while continue to roam
White. Black. Yellow. Green. Brown. See me for what I can be. I'm not a color.
My dear, do not tell me I deserve better than your love. That your heart does not shine bright enough to reflect mine. For my heart only shines this brightly because it had to been burned.   
Green, white. Wood wafts westward into my nasal wonder. Beans crack and crumble away to dust As the black lake of broken dreams Boils into blight. Creators crawl the clavier, clawing
Today is frozen in blue and white we live to stall upon a blank page This picture, now a photograph In black and white
Look at my face Look at This Face   I know her   These thin lips Small eyes Large cheeks   My eyelashes are short But long enough for their purpose
where’s the worst place a black child can live?       — white comfort.
Armies of men fall at the feet of Beauty, and we're taught that women are weak.   Men watch their brothers transform into monsters, and we're taught that real men don't cry.  
The Irony in this Nation   How a color A sound Can trigger someone’s mind to hate  The accusations and discrimination that holds a great sense of problem in this white nation   
Poetry has taught me to be free,To be completely me,Poetry told me, "Don't worry about this or that."Poetry whispered in my ear and said,
Dear Texas, You warm my heart, From you, I found my start. I love to see that red, white, and blue.    
Thank you, Mom For the mayonnaise Plastered on me Like a filter to hide My blood   Thank you, Mom For the twang
How can an absence of matter provide so much intimidation? Your pure white eyes glaring at me with utter frustration, Screaming at me to try, to experiment, to dream
On this day I wore red A color so beautiful and bold I did it to be ahead And hopefully it will have him sold   He, however, wore blue
Some say I’m intelligent But I just feel irrelevant Some say I’m well-spoken But they haven’t seen the side of me still broken The broken side
My hands are coated in CHARCOAL The burn I got from baking with my best friend is RED All that I can see is the image of WHITE created from the smashing and crashing of endless BLUE.
Kiss a dead girl?  Kiss her ruddy lips, her stark face. They called her Snow White, a pretty name for a corpse. Snow White, evoking glistens of fresh crystal, the name portrayed the cold dead of winter. The cold, dead of winter.
Once upon a time, there was the fairest maiden whose beauty matched the frosty snow At the same time, the warmth of her heart matched her fiery red lips Throughout the kingdom, everyone knew her innocent beauty would glow
My mind spins thinking about the word, “White.” About how being white is like being the reincarnation of Hitler, In the eyes of the blind Social Justice Warriors,
Once Upon A Time... There was a princess named Rapunzel Born of a Black father and a White mother, Rapunzel was praised for her curly hair Natural curls
her lips part at the arduous notions of  stepmother bound to her trail of agony, shallowed dress keeping pace  with its tendrils attached to tressels of white lipped fingernails 
Once upon a time, Maiden, you have felt Spring’s breath upon cheek Swept off to castle by Nature’s full bloom Behind veil you remain impenetrable to critique Crossing the threshold with fairest of grooms.  
America, The Beautiful? Home of the enslaved, Where those who are brave, Are said to have no brain, Where freedom of speech is limited,
Bounded by Red, White, and Blue shackles We stand one Nation, under God In the unemployment line.   Thirteen Red stripes
Crying. Constant tears. Cruelty as far as the eye can see. How come nobody helps me. How can nobody see. I’m in pain.
Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like if I was white I believe my life would completely change if I was white I wouldn’t be closely watched as I walk through a store, if I was white
Just like a heartbeat,  white people are born with white privilege,   Looking at me  you would never guess  that I am 50% Hispanic, According to my Maybelline foundation stick,
Red, white, blue-the country in which I exist Never questioned or realizing that something is amiss.. Born to a culture that screams being patriotic since before I was a kid. Red
I was made in America. My grandfather is a veteran. My father black. My mother white. I am from a bloodline of freedom fighters. I was packaged,
Everyone preaches the great Red, White, and Blue. We've been raised to. But why do we praise Red, White, and Blue? Why is it something we so mindlessly do? Hands over our hearts, we pledge to one nation,
  How could skin so white— Become so red with irritability— How could a face so flush— Be filled again with sensibility?   With adoration prescribed you— And a melted chocolate heart—
March 6, 2017: Sorrowful living is a long, desolate path It’s where you’ll never really feel complete, but you don’t do much to fight it Because, though you just want to be happy, you don’t know where to begin
    Red is for the blood Red for all those who’ve bled for freedom White is for nothing Nothing that anybody has done to ensure the freedom of all
The American Dream By Ryan G. and Joseph G.      The nation I reside in holds a dream To live a life of wealth and to prosper
Asking when the right time is To move on forward, To leave behind things unbroken, People not forgotten, Actions never betraying a regretful tone, May not be so hard after all.
My skin. Look at my skin. What am I? I am a mixed girl in a obscure world. When I would play on the playground. Small, this high, my wide eyes didn’t yet recognize the lies.
I normally don’t like reading about political opinions in poetry. It is not a place for poets to duel with the pen; it is supposed to be a place of peace, of tranquility.
Bloodless   If in designation we find substance, We are neither truly rich nor poor.   I know what you see when you look at me. At least I fear as you.
You are always happy to see me You never get annoyed when I want to snuggle You curl up willingly on my lap and head bud my hand as a sign to tell me that you'd like to be petted
A life time of ignorance, discrimination whispered into the billowing breeze, my articulation better than those of 'my kind', the prejudice that is passed from generation to generation,
Color blind Living lifeTryna findPeaceFighting warsBleeding redUnder the shimmering seaMy brotherIn blackIn white
I lay in my room, staring at a white wall, wondering if this is my last sight. I stare at this white wall, blank and boring, yet filled with wonder. This white wall encloses me.
For the first time in so long I feel Pure. I feel brand new.   It's truly amazing .       I regret everything.
Her porcelain skin reflects the light, That is absorbed by everybody else’s deep brown around her. She is not rich, but they think she is. She does not know everything, but they think she does.  
Who is that? The one who I see at the edge of my eye. One who shines from the crowd. Something is different about this person. This someone is an enigma.   Strange that I know this person,
Black sand, burning my feet On this island of pestilence I stand Each step, a searing heat But only my heart will it brand.   Around me, I am surrounded by dead foliate
Thinking back to the very fist existence, There was one that cannot be forgotten: Clad in white, adorned with thorns, And many emotions shown on its face. Age alike, the mind even more so.
I’m white, Caucasian, Dutch, Norwegian. I have no month To celebrate this background, But I have had 18 years To learn about my people My people— Who are not just white
The melanin of our skin tones are enough to spark controversy Gun violence, Police brutality, Black on black crimes… Humanity?!
No white or black Just a well laid track And often a concerning lack Of humanity is seen Forgetting the in between Just fallowing a track To human demise A world were one another
it is cold  the breathe she sighs   freezes  forming tiny clouds over her head; an icy halo.    " so many letters..." she mutters, "so many words just tossed away,  
I feel like I am falling out of the sky,  down from the highest point. But there are always higher places. and lower.    I am sinking into a world that is too hot and crowded.  
She saw Him He saw Her   Both on contacts with the eye   whatever were the distractions to be   it was but a sweet meet   a sweet feast a joyous joy
E! was I Green   Someone painted me in Red   I lost my naturalness   Giving rise to artifice   I was posted   On a manmade web   Alterations had I gone threw
I am a dark Black and a blinding White,
 Blue eyes look at me,  My dark skin is defined by the dirt and sweat of  cotton fields, My skin has been beaten, bruised and burned The darker I am the more I'm tortured, The blue eyes are evil,
Growing up in a border town, I felt like the runt in a litter of kittens My skin was a few shades lighter than everyone else that every time a teacher turned off the lights, everyone assumed that I would glow in the dark  
I feel a little awkward, like maybe I should be ashamed Because I don't think I was born with the right to write a poem about race My skin is not black or brown or red, not even my hair or eyes are naturally dark
I Am Hispanic. No, I am not the pale whiteskin of America; nor am I a non-speaking Spanish American. I am a hispanic girl with two cultural backgrounds with a bilingual tongue -- and I might be said
Writing is an honorble plan for man, as long as the writing in some way could help man understand for generations to help them learn special plans and avoid the scams and ditches of life. Will this pen improve my writer's lense?
. Her heart is white A color so pure
There is so much controversy over the slogan "All Lives Matter", and I can not seem to get my mind wrapped around the idea why. Yes, black lives do matter. I, as a black woman agree with this statement. There is nothing false about this at all.
How does one act white? Do I have to speak proper English and wear nice clothes? Do I have to get good grades and not cuss all the time? If that's acting white, then yeah I guess I act white.
Racism A problem that surfaced since the beginning of time,
    Part 1 It sure would be great to solve the race debate, But before you choose a side put down your pride and hesitate, Good and evil is not for us to decide that is up to Heaven’s Gate,
Black is the colorOf the mothThat lays peacefullyOn my window sealNever making a sound Black is the colorOf the ravenFlying highIn the clear dark skyBut still a mystery in our eyes
Two cultures can get me twisted, The white community is always listed, When filling out my race,
My shoes stepped onto the land filled with falling snow,                         My blondish hair shined in the cold day,                 My brown eyes, stare at a wondering crow,                     
I have never wanted a black man before He who walks around with his under clothing out He who had but 5 words repeated over and over I want this man I covet him like a child covets a charismas toy
You’re the whitest person I know! They laugh and look at me expectantly Their eyes gloss over And they fidget from foot to foot Like they’re warming up for a race Getting ready to run away from the mouth
I was made like this; created by a higher power, who took much of her or his time to make sure she or he got all of this right.
I am.. Skinny but Fat
She touches me and pulls away as if my skin is rotting flesh, littered with whirring, ravenous flies.   My skin, dark as the shroud that invades my bedroom every night
The princess dances, draped in all the world's white: white shoes, white fan, white skirt and train,
First snow
"Up from the ashes"
Expressing how I feel sometimes confuse me a great deal Can I understand myself? Or better yet can you? I dont always say what I feel But when I do I keep it real Anywhere any place
Why should I change..
I always wanted to be different, to have those pretty words roll over my tongue and fit in the cacophony of sounds i didn't want to sit by myself at the lunchroom, wanted a crowd of admirers  I wanted recognition
One It is about time you realized that you are black you still don’t know what that means But one day you will And you will never have felt more beautiful or misunderstood
It is summer again.
I go to school, isn't it obvious? Sixteen year old girl with a backpack, It's pretty clear to see. I go to classes, then lunch, then class again, Hop the bus, go home, do homework go to bed.
I Am Two By: Autumn Alston I am two. Two worlds forged together, each crippled by negative history, Two forces, diametrically opposed, when combined, producing a mystery.
A difference you are Making as a butterfly’s' phase in life.  
You speak of those with dark and light skin,
Once, I saw a white rose
Merging onto streets. We flood as an aid to those in need. We see the pain, cries, and pleas. Freedom is so everlasting.
They would tell me that I wasn't like them.
I feel like a blank paper and nothing more absent of color, tone, and glow  
Heart Poundng Red Blood Inhales, Exhales
Life is dark; depressing But with in the dark there is always light. In art you discover just how black is made, The truth of the matter is, that you must take every color of the rainbow at once;
What would you change? What would I change? I'd chage the way peole think, Get rid of the unnceccasary judgement. Who needs that? Certainy not we. We have the power to learn,
  I am white.                                                    Lineage?                                    Eastern European.                                           Religion?
If I could change the world, I would abolish prejudice; Or the bumpy past, That created it. No race more superior, No size more supreme. Only happiness,  And positivity gleamed.   
Those who see the world
Oreo To think a childhood could reincarnate itself in mockery Oreo that's what they call me Oreo because I'm too black to be white, but not black enough to BE black Oreo
White is the color of cotton
The Red Queen wanted red roses. The roses were whte, so the cards painted them red.   Red roses a common symbol of love.   I paint roses everyday for you. They aren't red,
There’s a faded, torn pictureMy grandma lovingly tapedOf the day she stood in front of old AbeAnd with thousands of othersCheered for a dreamA dream full of hopeThat we wouldn’t see
Stupidity is a luxury And quite frankly, Like most luxuries, Only the rich can truly afford it. Wealth, money, filthy lucre. Would you trade the world  For circular slices of metal?
  Friends for almost ten years 
BLACK By David Harris   So many times I’ve heard, “You don’t act black”, And to this day I still don’t understand, How does one act a color? Do I be decrepit, ugly, or dark?
Green is the color of envy Red is the color of love Blue is the color of freedom While yellow is the color of fun   Black is an evil color White is always good Grey is the color in between
In a white colored coffin the baby lay, Her mother had wept the night away. Not feeling her dying breath, With her clasped to her mothers chest. She prayed to keep,
Soft red lips Turned up—a smile Of wit and love— Toward the lips of another Reflections In each other’s eyes Radiant light Shrouds her body A silky gown of dreams
Mistaken Always shaken We move because we're told  But it's getting old Tired of these rules The tools They say, the tools to life To growing and succeeding To living and competing Jump, run, and go They say it but really though  What do they mean
Dear Diary, I'm. Mad. No excuse me that's not what I meant to say-I meant to say I'm pissed off.
You think you're hot sh*t don't you because your clothes fit you and you got a nice whip riding after school. You think you're hot sh*t don't you because we will never be like you
Sometimes we forget that in this varied world Among the mix of backgrounds Ethnicities Languages Or whatever makes you stand out There are people like me Filling in the "White" box
The Beauty of White Sweet, little baby girlFrom white to white to whiteSafely in her mother's wombThe darling sleeps tonight
If only we were color blind… The hurt, The pain, The feeling of being the undeserving, or The inferior would disappear.
There they are. they're sitting in that car. I've never seen a Lamborghini before. yet there it is at my school.   There they are. sitting in that house.
I'm tired of these fucking stereotypes dictating how I feel and act I shouldn't like English I should be petite and quiet I should study, study, study Well I fucking done finito, over it
Every grain of sand fallen, Is an eternity. Sand better off lost. No matter the pitfalls. Intolerance… Produced as a result of the tone set by one’s skin.
White or black what difference does it make? we are both skins that we did not create the color we walk in is our own the only thing that we can embrace is making us known of who we are
Why can’t you believe that I deserve it all? Is it because I am young, I am black? Because I’ve answered the call? You claim success is colorblind, that any can achieve,
white girl small town suburbs modest houses, new cars, granite countertops friday nights sitting on leather couches discussing allusions in movies pointing out themes and foreshadowing like it was a joke
Bending and twisting. Embers, chocolate, mud, and sand. White with freckles and dark like Sudan. Is there a side when your blood knows no end? Bouncing, crunchy, zig zags. Sinful and unruly.
I only play with my black keys, My lovely black keys. The only keys I can trust Keys I can put my faith in The white keys don't understand me   The white keys
forthcoming opposition is a blessing. you should be worried when you're not sure when the attack will start   the echoes of malice are a blessing. you should be worried when the whispers of hatred
White noise conquers my senses  In the restless hum  My mind dispenses  Scribbles on the inside of my eyes Neon lighting that leaves me hyponotized  Shattering vaults of desperate words
    What It's Like To Be a Mixed Girl (for those of you who aren't) First of all, it's feeling like you fit in and then one day someone different appears in the mirror.
Art is the millisecond one awakes from a coma,
Do you see that being black is a state of mind? That we have moved beyond the whips and the chains, and have moved on to the place where everyone is kind.   But wait. Everything good is white.
Dressed in white and at the hall, Excited was she not nervous at all, It was a day she looked forward to since she was a child, Whenever she thought about it she sat and she smiled.
The white is everywhere It covers everything Nothing is safe from the white blanket The white blanket of snow It covers everything,head to toe Cars,tress,houses, and dead flowers
What does being black really mean? Is it what's being represented on TV? Does it relate to a status quo, or what you truly know?   Isn't it just the pigment of one's skin,
(poems go here) We hold these truths to be self-evident, that if you are a minority then you are  irrelevent. And If you're not using drugs, then you must be selling it. Living in a world, where girls are no longer celibate
And it is with this that I am thrust into the reality of the world the world of blue eyes, blonde hair beige skin where being anything bigger than a 4 (god forbid) is casually categorized as "fat"
White rose, Do you ever tire of your beauty? I see all the other flowers, Bloom in jealousy. Frankly, it’s not your thorns I avoid, When you hug me.
I write for society I write for life I write for the power To say what's on my mind
Stained Laying on the cold war floor I’ve bleed red, white, and blue For you? Can this be true? America I salute you I chose to fight for you till’ kingdom come
I am a parasite. I feed from the fear and pain of the cowards; the unfaithful fall as I consume their souls. I devour their sense of direction, hindering their escape.
I am a parasite. I feed from the fear and pain of the cowards; the unfaithful fall as I consume their souls. I devour their sense of direction, hindering their escape.
Asha Neeman grew up in the suburbs of the big city, Always making others laugh, She was so witty. A great athlete and a straight “A” student, Every boy wanted to be with her, But hated her prudence.
I once had a spirit, That would cry, Livid. A soundless screamer, A sleepless dreamer. A cowardly warrior, A body-less barrier. A sharp taste of rum, A native tongue. When the soul spoke,
Alone, it is a masterpiece, and it recreates its status. Forgotten practicality, Leaves it just a decoration.
Something dangerous lurks in the shadows It’s gangling grotesque figure lets out an eerie cry of warnings Night after night Hiding it’s sunburned flesh It creeps in the shadows I’m afraid of the dark
I, myself, draw the line. Neither bounded by chains or by reckless thoughts, flooded by the ignorance of those unaware of my flow. Is it the way that I speak which inflicts fear on Man?
Character Deep within the focal point of your exterior lies character. Character yet to be defined, Character that has ceased to be be intertwined...
Sun shines through my small window the light drips down the walls like golden raindrops. My eyelids flutter open, retinas burning in the unexpected light. I look around at the blank walls. No detail, no color
The question always pops up with black and white people. Who and how can an person use the term nigger and nigga.
My favorite color is gray. Why? Gray is so boring, so neutral, so.. dead. Right? Gray is what happens when you mix the polar opposites of Black.. and White. When you mix oppression with freedom,
They wanted to call us colored But what did colored mean To a population with crops dying Radiation spewing across the sky Changes from green to dead And blue to hidden
(poems go here) They did the work we didn’t want to do We could not be in the same room It was illegal for them to have a say If they even tried it was almost like they were thrown away This went on for 400 years
I see these signs that say white only for me, What it really means is you don’t know me, I’m all around you, Still this doesn’t bother you, We’re fools to see the only difference is the color we see.
Shuffled by, Tossed and tied up without a bat of an eye Thrusted into a life that was unseen Depicted less of our mean Voice unheard, some sort of strangled silence
Shuffled by, Tossed and tied up without a bat of an eye Thrusted into a life that was unseen Depicted less of our mean Voice unheard, some sort of strangled silence
Who’d know the color of my skin presents so much ambiguity in society? A different angle in the light of the city What am I today? For the historic family trees of America remain hallow at my name.
How could it end so real? Looking back at it it seems so surreal, But in my mind I know how the people used to feel. The mother, A woman strong like no other, Told everyone who could listen about this deal
We stand here in the crowd hearing him preach 'We shall be equal! We shall be free!' These men up here giving us false hope, When we all know we should fight on But in the back of our mind knowing we are shunned.
The Civil War's long been over, and slavery's been abolished Education is available to everyone so we can all get knowledge Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King fought for the rights we've gotten
White is beautiful. It is bright, blinding white That fills the cold days of winter. It is the swirls of white That cover the skies on a sunny day. It is sweet, irresistible white
What is this white cap I wear That makes everyone stare, When I can down the green crown Of liberty to set everyone free?
Had a sporadic moment of brilliance today This extra-terrestrial brown skin Bronzed with historical significance Scarred with repetitive adversity It isn’t coming off
If I could see over this farmed hills, I wouldn't have to be afraid of life's thrills. I am here for you brother-man Here to lend a simple hand.
I see what your scared of, that thing inside that you want, the burning fire, te desire for change, you thought you could do it alone but your just one, thats what the doubters say,
The riders are teachers, The marchers are leaders, The man they all look too, Is a Baptist preacher. She sat in a chair, Not willing to share, To stand for her rights, Without being compared.
It's as if they fear the color Will drip off of their skin and stain their clothes As if they may breathe it in Like a poison Like a disease They squint their beady little eyes Staring Menacingly
Walking down the street My daughter holds my hand It's a warm day. Turning a corner A man says hello I smile, and greet My daughter jerks me "what are you doing?" A cutting whisper
Some say ignorance is bliss, but I dare to disagree; I say ignorance is what the eyes are afraid to see. On the outside you may think these people are friends through whatever;
I've seen my people enslaved by these monsters I haven't seen them escape very far Still trapped by their masters, or the ones that claim they are And they've been hypnotized by those damn cars
Why won’t it change color? I try so hard To scrub off the darkness That will never go away It brings so much trouble and shame They stare at “it” Define me through “it” But I am more than that
Silence sweeps over the cotton fields of present day Georgia As gentle winds tickle the cypress and the pine. Streams ebb contently in their beds. Who would have thought in such a beautiful place,
I had a dream, he had a gun. I asked if I could sit, they asked if I could run. Without justice there is no peace, they say “I have justice so is there peace?”
In today's world, we hear about the civil rights movements in history class. We think, "that was so long ago, does it even matter now?" Most teens only think about our country now, not it's past.
This is a Rise^ For All of Those who have Died in order to keep the Living Hope Alive This a Rise^ For All of those who wear a disguise There's no need to hide
Oreos. Zebras. There are jokes about both That are funny to even the most welcoming of people. When two races mix, Two races so different as black and white, literally, Judgment is passed,
Capture the past I'll let it live Very loud, asking for forgiveness Ignite a passion for history Let you beat me like I beat you
In a bus, in the city of Montgomery, A woman came aboard. Little did anyone know at the time, That this woman would change the world.
Black and white. White for new beginnings, fresh starts, and enlightenment, Black, the color of passion, strength, and warmth.
Affirmative action. A good idea? Perhaps. Equality for all races... Hate that word, races. Tells of a division Separate groups Of black, and white. "Why?" some ask Not understanding
Subscribe to white