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Best American Poems

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New American Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best American poems are below this new poems list.

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RITE OF PASSAGE AMERICAN STYLE by Guyler, Ian
Great American Literature by hansen, jan oskar
The American Flag by Petersen Potter, Dorian
American Flag Celebrate Independence Day by Roper, Eve
THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR by Guyler, Ian
American Pharoah by Merryman, Kim
American Women Soccer Players by Horn, James

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The Best American Poems

Details | American Poem | |

Indian Ink

“Indian Accent”

Hear the whispers inside

Chanting from long ago
Echoes come and go
Losing time in a soft eternal glow

A beautiful and delicate autumn mountain scene
Dry blue eyes enchanting melodies!
Voices falling from the sky
Rising hymns release ancient demons that cling to the soul

The darkness dwells under gentle moonlight
Ancestors of the Spirit World,
Exposing Indian hands that weave native smoke into the air
Their spirits taunting burrows from the muddy Earth
Moccasin makers rise from underneath
Guardians of dream catchers
Smooth thread from the outer edge, bowing heads.
Luminous gems of ivory,
Chasing a florid kiss.

Through the winds of enchanted drums, voices cry out for rain.
The hollow chimes mesmerize  
An ancient rage begins to flare
Stale madness, 
The spears of the perfumed buffalo skin pierced my senses
Removing the veils that cover my eyes
The hands that cover my ears
Washing the scalp that bleeds on my face
They collect tears from memories of the past.

KINDRED IN EVERY WAY!

Raven silk braids, feathers fall from my hair.
Dancing in a horrid hallucination of Peyote,
Waking up from the “American Dream.”
Holding out my arms, I am free, I can fly.

I AM A BIRD!

By; PD

More great poems below...


Details | American Poem | |

Ancient Warrior

I see the wrinkles in your suntanned brow,
You carried burdens then; you see them now.
You’ve heard the cries your people who in pain,
Have shed their tears two hundred years like rain. 

Your sad brown eyes, reflecting now the sky
I see the wings of eagles flying by
Beside you stands an Appaloosa mare
Her spirit one with you now over there.

You hear the drums, they bid you to come near,
Your spirit drawn the beats they ring so clear.
Song like prayers are chanted through the night,
Calling you come, and help them end their plight.  

You’ve heard sad cries and now stand at their side,
You join the prayers with both arms open wide,
United spirits sing until the dawn,
When in the fire’s flames a golden fawn.

Remembering a smile crosses your face,
When tribes were one with Mother Nature’s grace.
The lakes and streams flowing with waters clear,
Flow sadly now, the planet lives in fear.

The weightless feathers that adorn your head
Your tribes grey future weighed you down instead.
Now breathing deep you smell the winds of change
While here on earth your people rearrange.

Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
10.21.2014
Giorgio A.V. Contest 
Iambic Pentameter 
1st place

Details | American Poem | |

Ancient Stones

Charcoal black tip of arrowhead,
among these ancient, stones - stained red

Heartbeats feel rhythms of ghostly drums..
Winds carry haunting, chanting hums

I feel your blood, flow here with mine,
outlasting, even decaying time

I've been told the stories, told by you,
I know we're just spirits, passing through

When thunder, shakes awake the night,
I vision warriors by firelight

Their voices echo, around mountain's soul,
while moon and stars watch us below

Respect the sky, and mother earth,
borrow the beauty, from time of birth

Then give in death peacefully
yourself, to rest eternally

Among these ancient, stones - stained red,
my mirror reflects traces, of those long...........
    remembered.......

©Donna Jones
11-8-2013


Details | American Poem | |

Indian Girl

--Virginia Slim--

Different eyes, the same world 
Ancient skin, dirty Indian Girl 
Smokey, eyes, exotic raven hair 
---Now listen to  the colors, of transformation, 
On the day she was born, the wind blew in, 
A blessing ---her soul, fallen from the heavens
A  gorgeous puff of smoke, Miss Virginia Slim

Able to walk the world with an open mind, she twirls
Pocahontas, one of her many names. 
She carves, and climbs on trees, this little Indian Girl, 
Her feathers ride with the wind, against her red titian skin
Daughter of Chief Powhatan, a powerful tribal, red man 
Peace and love with the Indians of her Virginia Lands,

Many myths, many stories, maybe a mad woman, 
A new Christian, living sad poverty, a silent hero, 
Twisted tales, from savage green to ivory white religion
In her eyes, life never was about greed and skin
Her new look attained an altitude precision
Pocahontas tricked and captured, 
Set to sail another tribe, lands were taken over, 
Boat sailed out of Virginia Lands

Tribes acclaimed her to be wild and ambitious
"The naughty one," searching for admission
Native American child, before the princess, 
Her beautiful soul, a short auspicious beginning
Leaving her world, beautiful and fearless
Forgetting her roots-- From Mother Willow's Vision 
Pocahontas, the Indian Legend from, The Virginia Lands

by;PD

Details | American Poem | |

Sweetest Love Note

One night a guy & a girl were
driving home from the movies. The
boy sensed there was
something wrong because of the painful
silence they shared between them
that night. The girl then asked the boy to pull over
because she wanted to talk. She told him that her
feelings had changed & that it was time to move on.
A silent tear slid down his cheek as he
slowly reached into his pocket & passed her a folded note.
At that moment, a drunk driver was speeding down
that very same street. He swerved
right into the drivers seat, killing the boy.
Miraculously, the girl survived. Remembering the note, she
pulled it out & read it.
"Without your love, I would die."

More great poems below...


Details | American Poem | |

Heritage

The ranch on which I hang my hat, though short on most the frills,
Is thirteen sections, give or take, of rugged trails an’ hills.
We call it ‘home’, our little world, our very own frontier,
Amongst the cattle, sheep an' goats; the varmints, hogs an' deer.

Today I watched the breakin' dawn an' whiffed the mornin' air,
A time I often set aside for things like thought an' prayer.
A Mockin'bird an' Mornin' Dove, an' other birds at play,
Were there to sing an' set the mood to start another day.

This mornin' saw the strangest thing, like time itself had merged,
An' all the souls who once were here, appeared an' then converged.
In swirlin' clouds of mist an' fog, right off the bluffs they rolled,
Till all had gathered in the glen, the modern an' the old.

The Indians, conquistadors, an' other ancient men,
The soldiers from this country's wars, an' cowboys from back when…
They all had come from yesterday to help me understand
Our link with those who came before, to heritage an' land.

A crazy notion, so I thought, that they could just appear,
But as the morning went along the reason got real clear.
They rode along with me that day to show me things I’ve missed,
The things I’ve seen a thousand times an’ some I’d just dismissed.

Those wagon roads of long ago, still evident today,
Are carved in rock an' rutted earth, not apt to wash away.
They linked the missions, forts an' towns those many years gone by;
An' left their mark for all to see, as modern times grew nigh.

The artifacts an' weathered ruins attest to yesterdays,
When others came an' lived their lives in very different ways.
We've seen their skill in arrowheads they honed from fired stone,
An' craftsmanship in beads an' tools they fashioned out of bone.

At ever turn and trail we took was something to remind,
The Maker must have had a plan laid out for humankind.
The Earth He made’s been feedin' us a half-a-million years,
An' used it's wonder, force an' change to challenge pioneers.

I do not know if they'll return or if they’ll feel the need,
But I’m prepared to ride the trail, where ever it may lead.
We all are spirits ridin’ time with bodies of the Earth,
Whose time has come to take the reins an’ offer up our worth.

The land has been the legacy we cultivate an’ reap,
The life has been the heritage our father’s fought to keep,
An’ we are bound throughout our time with those who came before,
To put our hearts and souls to it, and make it something more.

Details | American Poem | |

Who Am I

I am the ring around Saturn
spinning words as particles of ice and dust
with the power to transcend

I am the original chosen to be right here right now
transmitting verbal frequencies 
through speaking my thoughts into existence

I am the heir of omnipotence,
born with a direct connection to profound abundance 
The one whose words will age, yet still have substance;
since there are no boundaries attached to my pen

I am constant energy
Translating personal experience into imagery 
Vulnerable to tyranny,
yet i continue attempting to share some truth
through this abstract language of poetry

I am the core
I am that I am more
I am the Divine Presence that is the Source of my rewards

I am the green you get when you mix too much yellow with the blue
That shade of gold you get when the sun resides into darkness
and when it ascends in the dawn burning dew
I am the transition between the third and fourth dimension of time;
the love you feel when you realize how it feels

I am the poem that is abstractly direct
because I write beyond limits
absorbing frequencies from 3 to 8 hertz
through meditation for several minutes
I am the one bridging the gap between
the analog ascension and the direct connection to spirit
The one who is love
because I am a descendent  of it

I am the rhythm that the wind blows
I am the beginning and the ending of stories told
about the universe and how miracles unfold
I hold the power to accept judgement from those who will do just that
Not knowing that I am them in the absolute reality of me
Judge that

I am knowledge beyond measure because that is my right
So I continue meeting the different parts of me
when I meditate and write
Who am I?
I AM, THAT, I AM



Details | American Poem | |

Each Day Takes its Turn

Standing firm 
we live 
we give 
we take 
we learn 
we strive to make sure 
each day enlightens us 
and brightens us
even as light fades to gray 
may we keep fighting 
with two swollen feet
beneath the body and soul 
experiencing trials 
and intense life lessons 
meshed with stresses 
may we persevere 
turn off  fear's song 
may we stand firm 
as we glide along 
through shifty winds of change 
that may cause things to sway
rearrange
but we hold true
inside the values and morality
we stand for 
we
fall for nothing 
we
may stumble along the trip 
we 
may swerve at the wheel yet 
we 
do not lose our grip
because no one 
can eclipse the sun 
yet
everyone heals 
before they're done

Just when situations arise 
flooding us with pain we despise
and just when it seems like
our tear ducts are dry 
from ongoing cries
we may think 
things are on the brink of ending
then God shows us the ways of faith
by way of love that he's sending

Standing firm 
we live 
we give 
we take 
we learn 
we make sure 
every day enlightens us 
and brightens us 
as each day takes its turn. 

~JSLambert



Details | American Poem | |

Tribute to Susan Boulet Art

Susan Boulet was an artist 1941-1997
Her paintings are famous for their layered effects which she started later on in her artistic career. She loved fantasy which is easily seen in her paintings. This is my fantasy poem as I look at this beautiful picture painted by Susan Boulet.

The old man sits quietly on the hillside, knowing his days as one
Spirit would soon be coming to an end. He stares blankly at the heavens where the pale blue sky is the backsplash for Cumulus clouds now filling in, the horizon. He chants his prayer over and over again calling his brothers to come receive his spirit and be one with him for all eternity. Brother bear, cloak me with the warmth of your coat that we may walk through each winter and never be cold again. We will stand together as one, never again will we know fear. Brother wolf fill my heart with your loyal spirit that we may rise to heights of a love greater than any human could possibly achieve. His prayer seems to rise more intensely as he continues. Mighty cat, share with me your speed that we may be faster than the wind, jumping through the clouds as one. Wise and good owl, become one with us that we shall have wings to fly as eagles and wisdom to find eternal peace. Now the old man whispers, together we shall hold the secrets of the universe in our hands. Soon his chin drops down on his chest as a smile crosses his face, and the old frail body crumbles to the hard rocky ground. Then the cry of a wolf, the hoot of an owl and simultaneously the roars of a sabre-toothed and bear echo through the valley. As darkness fills the sky and the moon is high, the silhouette of a young warrior stands proudly on the bluff.


Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
10.26.2014
For Debbie Guzzi’s Contest:
Free Verse, Prose Poetry, Haibun

Details | American Poem | |

Before the night is Over (He's coming back) pt.2

             
                  Well my friend, my conscience would not allow me the pleasure.
              The pleasure not to report the news that I treasure.  That as I
              open the book, the book full of new's, a book full of true's.
            
                  All that I know, and them to be in doubt, one day they will all
              shout, "He's coming back", "Before the nite is over".  That's what
              the Bible (the book) is all about.  "Enter ye in at the straitgate: for
              wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction.
              Lord (now): "Show me the way Home", the poem is all about subduction.

             "Before the night is Over, the attempt is to capture your mind".  So may
               you be aware, as he is lead, lead like a lamb to be slaughter.  He is
               beaten like as if they don't care, he look like news I cann't share but
               the book (Bible) say's the reason he suffer for you and for me.
                  Because Love, Well yes my friend, [Love] is the reason to feel free!!..
                
                    My conscience want allow me the pleasure, that I too was less inform.
                That, cause of my sin, I couldn't be reform, and many amonst many was
                 also in doubt.  "Before the night is Over, hope all once blind, now see".
                Before the nite is over, before the night is become dawn and just before
                the dew hit's the ground.   

               "Give your life to what is living and not to a deadless Clover".  Do this, feel
                this.
               "Before the night is Over".

Details | American Poem | |

TAPESTRY

.........TAPESTRY
Out of time that's long forgotten, 
in a light that's yet unknown,
you could see me in the morning, 
I would be there, but alone,
weaving tapestries from fibers 
of someone who'd never guess,
she is part of dreams and vision,
and somebody's happiness.
    But she would know someone was there.
     I'd touch her now if I would dare.
      And she would know I'm always there.

There's a story and it's Celtic, 
"We must love all things, to see
how a raindrop loves the flower, 
but the flower loves a bee."
In the tapestry I'm weaving, 
I have told this story well,
and the dream she is a part of, 
is the other tale I tell.
    She knows someone has touched her mind.
     I'm always there for her to find.
      And she is always on my mind.

It's a love beyond a question, 
but a love that's out of place,
out of time and out of reason, 
but unable to erase.
In the tapestry I'm weaving ,
there's no differences to see,
she is rising from the ocean 
to a love God's meant to be.
...And she has known a love that's good.
.....Though it is never understood.
........But she'll remember love is good.
© ron wilson

Details | American Poem | |

A SLave's Cry

Stranded in this place
I cannot recognize
Abandoned and lonely
No one hears my cries
AS i walk through this wasteland
Of wilderness and desolation
I am consumed with anguish
I walk this road with hesitation
On every turn that i come upon
The is more pain than at the last turn
Agony and torment spews from my pores
With every step i take more pain i earn
Until i am enveloped with grief
Buried alive on my feet
Dirt in my eyes,nose,mouth,and lungs
I throw up my flag of defeat
Each painful blow leaves behind a deep gash
That is constantly reopened never able to heal
Infection has now set into my heart
Slashes and scars on my body reveals the detail
Of the despair embedded deep in my soul
That tells a tale of a soul so lost
A soul wandering through this wilderness
A tale of what being born black cost

Details | American Poem | |

Granny Panty Annie, the Tranny

Lemme tell ya' about a
*ding-bat skit-zo 
bee-hotch* tranny
named Annie...

I met her one night 
under disco lights 
up at Candies

She was 
starin' at me
grittin' her teeth
aimin' ta' see 
if I wanted a piece
of he 
OR
of she 
by way of flashin' granny panties

She was
shootin' pool
actin' a fool
so I 
took a shot
and one tiny glance 
but got caught

So I
lit up a smoke
and tried to play it off cool
but it was too late
she had pulled up a stool

She slurred,
"Hey young felluh, where ya' been all my life!"

I replied, 
"Sorry to burst yir' bubble, but I got a wife!"

"That don't matter kid, what she don't know won't hurt the girl" 
as she fisted my collar and yelled, "I'LL ROCK YIR' WORLD! Annie the Tranny is what they call me. Bet you been wanted ta' bone me since you first saw me!"

Fear and frustration danced on my face
I begged the bouncer to 
"Get this he/she outta the place!"

My pleas were to no avail, 
and that sea donkey lurked hot on my trail
flailin' it's arms and grindin' bar stools with it's tail

Speakin' of tails...
a shiny blue wale tail crept up her back
Her jeans were mean, but couldn't hold her underwear's elastic slack
but at least it beat feastin' eyes upon her crack
then she... 
wrapped her grimy hands around my neck and asked, 
"You n' me, boy, what the heck!?!"

I screamed,
"Look here lady, you seem real nice for a tranny;
but...
ya' see...
ya' need 
to hit the bricks,
you
and yir' Granny Panties!"

At that point the joint started to really heat up
people were glarin' like they really wanted me beat up
I can't recall how the hell I got out of there 
alive and free
it was like a big manly freight train
headin' dead at me

I'm pretty sure I owe the good Lord a big favor
that beast was the devil
and Jesus was my Savior!

It's a night I thought would never end... 
the night at Candies Bar n' Grill
Granny Panty Annie got a thrill 
tryin' to make me her sexy friend!!!




Details | American Poem | |

WE ARE JUST HUMAN BEINGS

                                
                              
                                   ***

                 Mans's colour is purely geographical
                  Not just the matter only biological
               For continents drifted due to a process
              People went to polar zone to live on icicle


              Thus they got white due to temperature low
            Coloured are those remained on equator below
               Got dark of heat which they did absorb
              Adaption was only solution they did follow

                Thus it's a matter of millennia ago
              Let's not fight due to our immense ego
               We are different from the fauna rest
                  Brotherhood is our ultimate logo

                       Racism or apartheid
                 It's always been a cruel deed
                      For it killed humanity
             And humanity excells caste and creed

                   The Almighty has no bias
                 He calls everyone to His dais
                  For our blood is just asame
                Ensure all stomachs full of rice

              To save the clan of homo sapiens
                Stay away from being ruffians
                 Let's dole out benevolence
            The King warned against the aliens

             "We have no fangs and no stings
            Explore the peace, spread the wings
                Stay away from retaliation
             For we are truly human beings..!!"


                          ********
Glossary:

       The King = Martin Luther King Jr.

       Aliens = common problems / issues faced by all.

Details | American Poem | |

New Dawn

As I roll out of bed tomorrow
I’m gonna say goodbye sorrow
Fare thee well Mr. Cynicism
See you later Mr. Pessimism
Adios to Mr. Skepticism
Exit negativity, enter positivity
No procrastination and inactivity 
An idle mind is the devils workshop
That’s why I’ll exert myself nonstop
No more misery and depression
As exuberance replaces dejection
Success is around the corner
It’s coming now and not later
Victory is surely heading my way
No matter what people may say
I quit banking my future on luck
Time has come to break the duck
A new dawn has shown its face
My home will be a better place
I’m a potential winner, a true born victor
Within me lies a superstar, a megastar
No I’m not building castles in the air, 
I’m not dreaming, I’m not hallucinating
I have to earn my place in history
Put a good ending to my unfinished story
My story is about confidence, not arrogance
I advocate humility, not vanity
Trials and tribulation come and go
Sticky situations are not unique to you
But we all know as well as you do
You need hard work and determination 
For the youth, education is the only solution
You’ve got to make the decision
To extract yourself from destitution 
Leave nothing at all to chance
For fortune favours the brave
No sweet without sweat, no pain, no gain
Each time you fall recollect and try again
A dream doesn’t become reality through magic
Lazy genius is not only sad but also tragic
Stay focused, keep your eyes on the prize
There is no substitute for hard work
There are no secrets to success
Only in the dictionary does success precede work
We are all gifted, skilled and talented 
Unshackle that innate ability 
Let loose that latent capability
I’m gonna prepare, plan and plot
Execute and give it my best shot
Until the day that I hit the jackpot

Details | American Poem | |

Oneness

Oneness
                   Authored by Chuck Keys

It had no color,
Lacking shape, size and dimension.
It wasn't moving or breathing.

There was neither aroma nor taste, not here or there.
Touching was useless because it wasn't physical.
It was indistinct and limitless.

Thinking multi-physically
Multi-sensually and multi-psychologically 
It wasn't here or there and it was.

With no distinction, 
It looked like everything else,
Or it could not have looked like everything else.

It never made me feel good nor bad,
Nor happy nor sad
Nor quite nor trite.

In our world of joy and destroy, we sort and distort,
Looking more on the surface and less on the inside,
Ready to judge and be judged from outside in.

The "oneness" of mankind stretches beyond definitions and limits,
From outside to inside and from inside to outside.
We are one distinct and alike world of "oneness."

Differences exist for differences, 
Therefore, differences don't exist.
Only "oneness" exists.

DEDICATION:
This poem is dedicated to Dr. Clayborne Carson and The Gandhi-King Community,
For Global Peace with Social Justice in a Sustainable Environment.  
www.gandhiking.ning.com

Details | American Poem | |

Song Of A Cherokee Princess -

Cherokee chamber,
where a pow wow stampeedes preconceptions of inheritence,
from Her beaded neck charms of chance & chains of change
glisten from opulent offerings of roots, corn & lavender ablaze
on an alter of unworked stone mantled with skins strong beasts knew,

She is a " Stomp Dance " Queen with an owl as a friend and a spider as assassin,
with rattlesnake ribbons around Her wrists and prayers in Her braids thick with traditions,
the walls of Her teepee painted with the pigments of buffalo blood & sunflower pollen,
portraying a history hewn from customs known to Spirits and men alike,
the " Stomp Dance " Queen speaks for Her People and sings from the stars,

I found this Tribe, not in Appalacia nor on a prarrie stage but in the smoke of ceremony,
the Cherokee Princess has rattlesnake teeth tied to Her thigh & turtle shells upon Her hips,
She played the rabbit on the scene, then the wolf, if you know what I mean,
celebrated by the warriors as a tomahawk maker,
praised by the medicine men for Her Visions,
and feared by the Elders because of wrath that may follow Her steps,
the " Stomp Dance " Queen is a Princess, She is a Cherokee with a song Her own -

J.A.B.

Details | American Poem | |

Wind Talker

‘neath the halo of a full moon Wind Talker gives music to the night flute carved from a fallen tree he plays to the dwindling forest trees that remain and creatures losing habitat softly the melody resonates through the woods Wind Talker recalls stories handed down tribal legacies of prosperity, joy an era when animals were protected and revered glory days of spiritual people proud Native Americans who honored their culture cast away even as treaties were signed so much has been lost so much clad in soft skins Wind Talker wishes for what might have been if settlers had never made their way to his land yes, the land is his it always will be; this he knows his heart’s sadness emanates from Wind Talker’s flute development is approaching, encroaching more houses, more highways fewer trees, less land for animals to roam freely resignation sets in no way to reclaim the past ceremonial drums fade in the distance so much has been lost so much

Details | American Poem | |

ON THE WAVES OF LOST MEMORIES

    


   ON THE WAVES OF LOST MEMORIES…

These salted memories tell stories
The oceans and seas gave birth to.

Over the tempestuous waters
Echoes from the bellies of slave ships
Ride the tides of history

Spreading ripples over the shores
Of time proclaiming forgiveness
For lost souls.

We sashay along bleached beaches 
Where white sands mask the shed blood;
And splashing waves drown out
The ghost echoes of rattling chains:

We no longer remember
Our beginnings here.

Details | American Poem | |

Historic Perspective

Battered
From a dark angry cloud
Beaten
By a storm wild and loud
Splattered
On history's hardest rock
Heaven
Smile at the little flock
For as a drop of water 
Curls to become a river
So I gather my dreams
To trickle like a stream's
First fall
From a leaf, to swell
To haul
The hill down, and tell
My victory in the sea
Tell me history from the sea

This month
Short as wounded memory
I hunt
Myself, stalk their history
To find all I have lost
Just to tally the cost
Of being black
Of watching the clock
For the hour.

Details | American Poem | |

A Totum Pole Ode

.

                                      forever           gazing
                                           cold,    blazing
                                              eyes in the
                                              sky, where
                                             wings of the
                           grain, have weathered many rains…. 
                                            ~~~~~~~~~~~
 deep, fluid etchings, carved in the wood, stetching high over the hood of earth…
   a thunderbird’s wings, perch a lofty plateau, above a graveyard of tales long ago…
     over years, the curious swell, enchanted by spell of legends dwelling here
         
                                   emerging from gold lands 
                                          so far and near
                                          skin and bones 
                                    through windswept loam
                                     thick with thistles, 
                                    with courage and fear
                                   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                                   a river on their back
                                    and a cloak of home
                                  draped across shoulders 
                                       in a world unknown
                                  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                      tears ran rivulets on the white man's ground
                   drenched with forgiveness, from a crying sun
                    and the eyes of time, from a tribe now gone
                                          ~~~~~~~~~~~
                                 as wind spins, curls, and winds
                                           around the spine
                                            ~~~~~~~~~
                                   of native vines... unfolding
                                          old tribal codes
                                             ~~~~~~~~ 
                                             ~~~~~~~~
                                             ~~~~~~~~        
                                         stories are told with
                                        each turn of the pole...

                                        in the totum pole ode
                                              ~~~~~~~
                                              ~~~~~~~
                                              ~~~~~~~








Details | American Poem | |

The Black Boomerang

The word’s speaker and listener would hear 
Cackling, 
Not from one another, 
But from a burning Sixo; 
They would feel
As though
A noose was choking 
Their voices 
Before they could even tell 
Themselves to “rest in peace”; 
They would see 
The bullets
That rushed, 
Jealously, 
Into the bodies of intelligent black heroes and heroines; 
They would taste 
The blood 
That could have filled all the courtrooms 
Where racist murderers were not convicted; 
They would smell 
The human 
Waste of those treated like human waste –
A stench strong enough to make some jump 
Ship just for a breath of fresh air, 
Before the waters 
Then enslaved them …. 
These effects may sound 
Insane 
But are they any more 
Out
Rage
Us 
Than our current 
Usage of the “n”- word? 
That is, 
Many of us would say nothing 
If a black friend declared, 
“A ______ will never become the President of the United States of America ….” 
To be honest, 
I even agree 
With the essence of this statement. 
For only a full black man or woman 
Will 
Eventually 
Become 
The President. 
Thankfully, 
That still leaves all black people in the running.

Details | American Poem | |

THE COLOR OF OUR BLOOD

In my innocence I went out into the world
Eager to learn all the lessons I can hold
The things I’d learn I’d love to share
Alas, people found me to be quite bold.

I distinctly felt the tension in the air
When I was little and went to a fair
It was outside the town where I grew up
People stared at us head to foot and kinky hair.

I shrugged my shoulders, I did not mind
I wanted to play with kids that were kind
But their folks did not like a colored child
Touch skin to skin with their children, later I’d find.

I learned the first lesson about discrimination
The hard way, from a small child’s perception
I will fight for my right with all my might
This I vowed unto myself with all determination.

And so from that day on, I pushed for emancipation
From the shackles of a closed mind, a liberation
How dare you think I'm lower than you are
When our blood is the same color red, under examination?

We have come a long way indeed, I know
For now we can vote, to a master we need not kowtow
Freedom from slavery, gained through sweat and blood
Our children can now speak without fear to friends or foe.

Greater minds have walked these hollowed halls
Than what I can aspire to be with my bold balls
However Sir, that won’t stop me honestly
From continuing to speak my voice, no matter you stall.

Now Sir, tell me, what is the reason you cannot grant
Before I make another speech, but not a rant
Is it not only fair that you declare equal rate
For black or white, as long as he deserves it, and not ignorant?


A black man's thoughts on the prevailing system where blacks are assigned to positions with predominantly lower rates.

17 March 2015
CONTEST : Writings in a Black's Perspective - 1st Place
SPONSOR : Verlena Walker

Details | American Poem | |

A faceless enemy (what's there to Celebrate)

He appear to be a ladd of maybe 9 yrs. old.  It's Friday, as our troop's prepared to move
out unto enemy territory, and then KABOOM!!...he becomes a suicide bomber.  WOW! face-
less at such a young age.  Now as I gather my comrade's body parts (as well as my thou-
ght's) to myself I say, "these people's belong in a cage".  Pain in Irag, will it ever end, here
children's are taught too kill again & again.  Our Boy'zz in misery, misery all around us, the
stinch of death is everywhere.  Their fearless leader leads no more.  Soon he's capture, "one
would think, finally!! and now answer's of life can be restore, but sadly there's only more
bloodshed here in Irag.  And a salacious cloud still hoovers above our heads as the dead
bodie's continue's to rise, another soldier get sent home and familie's shall not be able to
stop the flow of tear's pouring from their eye's. (faceless at such a young age)
Our Boy's and Gal's in misery - here in a country, were there is no love, "A faceless enemy",
we continue to fight.  Our Congressmen and Senator's vote to keep this sinceles war going,
"for our freedom", lying to themselve's and to the American people's.  "For our Freedom",
"I don't understand-how can freedom be justified with a bullet and a gun".  How can Freedom
be (?) when every Saturday you'll be burying your daughter or your son.  Someday soon
we do get to go home, from here to a faceless nation.  As the dead bodie's continue to rise,
and before the break of dawn starts another day.  Your lil 9 year old goes outside to play.
In this land of confusion lil boy's also goes outside, freedom for him is to suicidily kill the
enemy-each and every morning in the name of Allah his mother tells him.  So 10 U.S. sold-
ier's live's are gone, more are on the way.  Remember their President is dead and gone
while our wants a "Celebration".

P.S.... This particular poem came to me in a dream, as in a dream I was there (in Irag)
holding this soldier who had been shot, and he relate's this particular
poem for me to write:

Details | American Poem | |

SASSY AND FINE

Sister girl 
African pearl
Such finesse
So much, you have to give.
Yes, you are beautiful!

Are you paying attention to me?
Nile I am.
Dark and handsome man and confident…

For the love of God
In this real world
Never have I 
Ever exploded with deep words of lust!

Sophisticated woman
After thoughts
Savoring your body
Suc-cor your tongue
Young and free!
	
Affixed to your smile
Nectar
Depths of passion!

Feel me
Indigo blue
Nice fit on you
Enriched this day!

Such words of desire
Ask you to be a part of my life.
So real to happiness
Seductive I am.
Yearn for me!

Apex to
New elevations for
Deep sensations!

Finding each other is not a sure coincidence.
Inspire by other elements
Nadirs we are not.
Essence we are.
__________________________________|
PENNED ON AUGUST 27, 2014!
FORM: TRIPLE ACROSTIC