Category: Poems

The excessive repetition of the word,

SEX,

Has caused me headache,

Deforming my brain,

Displacing the physics and mathematics,

Arousing the long lost desires,

And thriving me to lose the long preserved virginity,

But how,

May lord provide me the answers.

It’s not as if I knew you,

I never touched your face,

It’s not as if we spoke one time,

Or where ever in the same place.

How I wish I knew your story,

That I heard it from your side,

Not just the good, but the bad times too,

Nothing would take away my pride.

I’m sure there’s a family resemblance,

You’ve a nephew who has your name,

A family who have searched for you,

Who are happy that we came.

So Uncle Fred sleep peacefully,

Rest your tiresome head and feet,

We’ll carry you in all our hearts,

In another life we’ll meet.

I was born with a face less fair,
God painted me with charcoal, they said!
So by now you get it, I’m black!
A progeny of the slaves, a colour of destruction and evil fate!
My colour became my identity of atrocious diabolical mind,
Too young to understand,
the world of a bogging vainglorious land.
It never shook me, I never broke,
You tacitly coveted my sight, abdominated me for my colour!
But how could the colour of my skin arbitrate my Destiny and rights?
Your cold stare freezed me at times.
But the growing young lady within, escalated to believe in the heart inside!
You cannot destroy my flesh and soul,
I am a thousand galaxies untold!
My life won’t be a recession of the utterly fallacy you created, my character because of my colour has been constantly underrated!
You hate my colour black!
Then why prefer hallucinating about the Lamborghini matte black?
My colour helps you to lit up the light, doesn’t it works out the best for a romantic candle light?
Don’t forget the classy black shades you wear!
And Doesn’t that black tuxedo fits you the best?
Our blood is the same anyways, unabashedly i speak out, we all humans, aren’t we same?
Beautiful in every size and shade.
Your credulity won’t kill me, your slangs won’t hit me, for my skin is not a badge of shame.
Education is what you need, patience is what we have, it is all, the game of one’s mindset.
I’m a child of God! Happy and pretty in every phase,
I will stay forever in my lane, graciously magical, in every way.
We’re all gorgeous, from the top of our fros to the tip of our toes.
Holding my head high,
I will always Proclaim!
Yes, I am a black child,
Unique and adoring, in every possible way!

Life is never what it may seem,
And it certainly isn’t peaches and cream.
Standing in a sunbeam,
“Life is perfect,” one may think,
Then into the water, down they sink.

Hurt can be such a cruel word
It can crumble you to pieces
Come into your life like a hurricane
And leave you in so much pain

It can turn a beautiful heart into
a cold dark frosty night
And a pretty face to salty tears.

The scars it leaves behind
Are the scars that defines you
Define you to be a better person

Happens for a reason to a new you
To lead you on the path made for you
The people that carry the most scars
Are the strongest because they
know how to survive

Beautiful tree’s and flowers all around; old leaves have fallen from trees and laying on the ground…

Birds chirping their songs are sounds of beautiful music; the sounds of barking dogs and pigeons, those sounds make me lose it!

Haven’t you ever just sat in a quiet place and listened to all the sounds of the day make?

Like the children’s laughter running behind the ice cream truck; hoping to stop it to spend their buck…

The fire trucks sirens screaming along; cars passing with people inside singing their favorite song… the sound of a train tooting its horn; have you ever heard the sound of a baby being born? It’s peaceful if you really just listen to the sounds of the day; I love to just listen to the sounds children make as they play..

-By Lakiesha Edwards, Las Vegas, NV

 

 

Days have passed,

Weeks have passed,

Months have passed,

Seasons have changed,

Years have passed,

I know, you’ll never return,

But I can miss you with smile.

Stay happy,

Stay blessed,

I could write to you,

But I don’t know your new address,

And all I can do,

Is write and publish for you,

Just for you!

Yeah, you may not believe me,

But I can still miss you with smile.

 – By Arjun Dahal, Kathmandu, Nepal

I never once worried about what I looked like in kindergarten, I never even thought about it until maybe the sixth grade

I had the worst fashion taste imaginable, but it didn’t matter to me

I had not one care in the world over what anyone else thought about my mismatched prints

I only wore what was comfortable to me

In the fifth grade I gave blue eyeshadow a try, while that was a mistake, it did not matter

My yearbook photo may have been one of the most atrocious I have ever laid eyes on

But now I don’t even take them

I no longer want to be remembered

Or embarrassed of the things I may later regret

At what age did we begin to care so much that we stopped living?

So afraid of what others think

 We hide behind a false image of what we think should make us happy

We do things just to seek the approval of others, but why do any of them matter?

Marilyn Monroe once said “Wanting to be someone else is a waste of the person you are.”

The desire to be immaculate is overwhelming

The pressure is like a ship caught in a storm

Becoming engulfed in a torrent of waves

The true meaning is lost and drowning seems inevitable

But the word imperfect is not as scary as believed

The only meaning that matters to most of us is the one that says you are not perfect, faulty or incomplete.

We feel so much pain in that word

An aching in your chest so great that you fall

A flower weighed down by dozens of raindrops

We are all incomplete

Works in progress

Paintings that take years to develop

Revealing their beauty within time

Evolving constantly

I am not the same person I was six months ago

A butterfly only emerges from its cocoon once

Beautifully different with bright colors and the ability to fly

But we do it many times

There is no limit to the amount we can change

A fading sky with radiant colors

Is not the same the next day

True perfection does not exist in nature

Imperfection is found in everything

The prettiest rose has petals that are different sizes

Trees shed their leaves and are bare for months at a time

Even the sky itself turns gray

But we don’t consider these things to be ugly

We are our own worst critics

Taking years of what others have said

Weaving the harsh words together

In our minds

Creating the image that we see in the mirror

Shattering fractured hearts

But the truth is, if we saw ourselves in passing

On the street

We wouldn’t recognized who we saw

The image we have of what we look like

Is more distorted than an image through a kaleidoscope

Comparing yourself to other people

Hiding yourself away

Is a waste of who you are

And who you could be

So why does loving ourselves have to be so hard?

-By Madison Ramsey,  Virginia

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