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Best Race Poems

Below are the all-time best Race poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of race poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New Race Poems

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

For Race Sake by BROWN, MIKKEL ETTEL
The Big Race by Klein, Travis
Emotional Race by Hudson, Jakari
Homo Sapiens Is That Race by Crisci, Andrew
Race of life by Miljkovic, Davor
A FUNNY THOUGHT OF A RACE by Devnath, BL
Strabge Race by wahab, wahab
WE'RE ONE RACE by curtis futch jr, kurtis scott aka
Love all the human race by DIDONATO, Laura
Race by Tooth Colour by Apell, Agona

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The Best Race Poems

Details | Race Poem | |

Across The Border

"La Voz"

La Noche sin agua --- I spill my loving lips
Dancing, laughing and celebrating life 
I am his queen, aka' dulce Nina
A night he must not forget 

Lunesta ... Suave ...
He savors the moment;
Then questions my capabilities 
Suddenly I feel like a refugee!
History and bad company 
Ruining the beauty of leadership
"Legally," he says, he'll welcome me 
America on top, Latinos on the bottom
Law abiding, I  pass the proper speech 
Stereotyped every time I share my ethnicity
Casting my poor nationality 
Under the Rio Grand, a wall too tall
In which my people continue to build
After I give him my all
Children, love, support
The best tortillas in the house 
He offends a lifetime of memories
I'm a skillful woman, I dance with no music

Today, I've forgotten what Mexico looks like
He accused my race of planting too many trees 
Calculating, calling Latinos criminals, 
Forgetting his own sin, he wants to win
Insinuating we're robbing the American Dream
   I love to work, I take the field 
   Picking cotton, like there's no tomorrow 
   Married to the Marine life 
   Gravity of the world, 
   I continue to paint rainbows
This is where I belong!!!
Go ahead and build more republicans
I'm already on the side I want to be
I am the 7th generation of my family 
Born and raised The Texan way

By: PD

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016


Details | Race Poem | |

This is not a poem--- A singled out page

-THIS IS NOT A POEM-

Hey, Poets stop by, give me a shout out.
Tell Me Where You Are From;)
I promise I won't show up on your doorstep.


If you are having a bad day, let me have it
If you have awesome news, don't be greedy 
---SHARE! SHARE!
By all means  --- SHARE THE NEWS!!!


.................  LOVE THE POET DESTROYER 

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015


Details | Race Poem | |

Slouching Toward Ferguson

His life was gentle, and the elements
so mixed in him that Nature might stand up and
smolder

bodies in unregistered cars idling softly toward oblivion

some quick to anger
some quick to profit
some quick for justice
some tigers lapping blood
some mothers still at 3AM

hands on shoulders with coos commanding
that in a tear and turned cheek there be 'integration'

parody: an orphan annie reboot
parody: 'little black sambo 'round the tiger pit he go!'

we have rioted the last of our colors
bleated them with flexed toes to the wall at the edge of the universe to reverberate starless between
eternity
nothing
and madness

we have bleated the last of our colors
with centuries gone by without tongue, sockets or lobes

we will bleed the last of our colors
some quick to die
some quick to steal
some quick to burn
some quick to 

lend me your car keys

in a night of full of Alarics
I will bury you

in a night full of piccaninnies
I will melt you to butter

in a night where flames are fishhooks
Sir I need you to step back please

O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,
that
we have cried Havoc
let slip
and with purple'd prose stamped this hollowed earth

We who have lived so long
Sir?
shall with our breath turned mist
I need you to
stain only under stones
step
that pave with slippery breath
back
a headline for last weeks massacre
step
and tomorrow's graves
I need you to
I drew a line in the sand and you crossed it They are not breathing
Look! Look there!
No. I will not.
He dies

Copyright © Brooks Lindberg | Year Posted 2014


Details | Race Poem | |

Race Against Time

A race against time.

I can not enjoy my days.
They are not long enough, for the things I want to do.
I simply come and go.
Stay long, I can not. 
Like a relationship that comes and goes.
My life has no stop.
Ending up in places no one knows.
Over the edge, over the top.

I look at the time .
It flies by fast.
Where has my day gone?
In the morning I am sipping on coffee.
Now I am in bed, my day is done.

Minutes pass me by quickly.
Not giving me time to breath.
One day I was 23 years old.
The next day I turned 35,  asking where did all the time go?
I am not getting young.
When is this going to stop?
It all started when my life begun.
Will it end the day I drop.
Like the milk that spills from a cup.
A race against time
Should I just give up?
         I.T.
S.K.A.T. POETRY
3-31-10

Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2010


Details | Race Poem | |

My Bicycle and Me

MY heart rate raced as I sat and marveled at
this machine. A Cervelo S-5 carbon Bicycle.
This must be a dream! 

So Aerodynamic and efficient with a stream
lined design. With DI-2  shifter that shifts
precisely and is so divine. 

I'm sitting here for several hours on my new
racing bike. They're tweaking it perfectly, and
making it right.

A true masterpiece that is designed for speed. 
Which every adrenaline junkie definitely needs.
I quickly fall in love with the way that it feels.
At ten thousand dollars, its quality revealed.
  
As I get on it, it fits like a glove. I shift it quickly 
as I start to take off. I race with accelerating
rhythm, at maximum speed, and experience
a euphoric feeling that overtakes me!
 
My heart pounds with excitement and my thighs
start to burn, as lactic acid builds up, rounding an
apex of a treacherous turn.  

I glanced at my Garmin , peddling quickly in this
competitive race. Twenty-six miles an hour, I 
average, pushing myself, at a grueling pace!

My heart pumps as I spin up this hill, anticipating
the descent, oh my what a thrill!

I try catching my breath as my lungs cry out for air.
Reaching a pinnacle point of exhaustion, and
borderline despair!

I'm pushing my cadence with everything I got.
Failure is not an option, like it or not!

I'm shooting for King of the Mountain, in this heart
stopping mile. Thank God it's all over, as I stop and
 relax, for awhile!

It's all finished now, as I check out the Strava on line.
And much to my amazement, I am the fastest, of all
time!!

I wish I could take credit, and be solely responsible 
for this great feat, but I know in my heart, it was a
great effort, made by My Bicycle and Me.





                       









Copyright © michael tor | Year Posted 2015


Details | Race Poem | |

Trapped

My spirit and soul are trapped in this vessel of flesh. They scream to escape and to be liberated and soar on the breezes of life. To frolic freely among the trees, among the clouds and to run without weight and care.

My spirit and soul are trapped and they want to get out. Out from under all the stress and demand in life out from all the evil and hate of the world.

My spirit and soul are trapped in demand to perform, to keep a smile when I am down, to keep a stiff upper lip.

My spirit and soul are trapped to work for things and objects, to keep up with Jones and Kardashians. 

My spirit and soul are trapped into believing that all men are made equal when the reality of this world says different, that only green currency is the great equalizer. 

My spirit and soul are trapped into believing that single is not wholeness that it is necessary to be joined with another body to be view without stigma.

My spirit and soul are trapped in a body not acceptable because it's fat, it's woman and it's black and aging.

My spirit and soul are trapped and they are screaming to be free... screaming to reveal all the possibilities of how good life could be if I just didn't give a damn about who thinks what about me.

Copyright © Kellie Thomas | Year Posted 2013


Details | Race Poem | |

Divine Flowers

Divine Flowers 

In a flower’s velvet petals
There dwells a divine scent and hue
Soon a tiny creature settles
That will help pollinate a few.

We are blossoms of our dear God
Born each in colors of our kin.
It matters not our birth of sod
Neither the colors of our skin.



For Andrea Dietrich's "Tell Me Your Number Contest" I am 8  
8 line form  Heroic Rispetto (Month and Day) Path May 3rd. 5+3=8

Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2014


Details | Race Poem | |

Un confit pour toi--A sweet for you

Aimeriez vous une chevaline rouge 
Composée de sucre d’orge?
(would you like a red horse made of barley sugar?)
Vous pourriez faire la race de
Plaines aux tires d’eponge.
(you could race across sponge toffee plains)
Vous amènera à un bosquet d’arbres
Faites de réglisses à la menthe
Ou des bariolé jujubes croissent au lieu de feuilles.
(would bring you to a grove of trees
Made of mint liquorices
Where multicolour jujubes grow instead of leaves).

For Debbie Guzzi's biLingual Poetry Contest
you wished for me to write something sweet, Debs:))

Copyright © Michelle Mac Donald | Year Posted 2012


Details | Race Poem | |

The Leader Bunny

All the little bunnies were lined up for a race. Why, you may ask?
Because the dear old Leader Bunny was stepping down with grace.
He had led the others for years without disgrace, in all pursuits.
He was their advisor, friend, and confidant... solver of disputes.
Such a lofty position was dearly sought by all…from all around.
But he could pick only one to wear that lofty, wonderful crown.
So a race was determined to quickly resolve, the question therein.
And a lovely little laurel crown was offered, to the one who did win.

Now many strategies to win emerged from within the race.
The most common was the notion to set the fastest pace…
A few would use tricks that might hurt, in order to slow others down.
A few were mean, for they wanted the power that comes with the crown.
Two were clever and would catapult each other at the very end.
A few just practiced running to gain the added stamina needed to win.
Only one little rabbit found shoes for the poor, for it was a rocky trail.
And when the race began he helped those hurt in the prevail.

Now the dear old leader had never actually worn a laurel crown.
His had been symbolic; his works had brought him his renown.
When the Leader Bunny gave the laurel crown to he who won the race…
Only a few were surprised, when the little helper won the Leader’s grace…
Though some would go on to complain because he had come in last…
It truly takes someone who knows how to serve, to lead and guide the rest.
But my moral to this story is that…. Regardless what some may think…
It takes compassion to correctly lead…and sometimes the last can be the best…


Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2012


Details | Race Poem | |

WINGS ON FEET



Race with the wind, step up higher Higher than blues of a sky; Through an airspeed, mile-long flight Chase a smooth or rugged pace, Wings on feet, be the desire. On to tracks as the nights inspire Burn, burn man, whip a dream; Heels kicking dust of life's byway Chase a smooth or rugged pace, Wings on feet, be the desire. And spike that run like a lit fire Gotta reach the stars’ motion; Burn man, gears are in control Chase a smooth or rugged pace, Wings on feet, be the desire. 6/3/2015 Lyric Man's Sing Me..A Jingle by nette onclaud ------ The mythological associations for the brand Nike Shoes are flight, victory, and speed. Nike is the Winged Goddess of Victory.

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2015


Details | Race Poem | |

A Stranger After Dark

I was sitting on the back porch ‘bout an hour after dark When I couldn’t help but notice a tiny pulsing spark. I thought it was a firefly – It had that kind of glow But I’d never seen the likes of it – what it was I didn’t know It flittered to and fro just like a firefly does I went into the backyard to determine what it was. Just as I approached the place I thought that it might be It flew right up and landed very close to me. Soon I realized it was no ordinary find. What happened next you won’t believe – it nearly blew my mind. A Lilliputian creature stepped from this tiny craft Right then and there I was aware of questions I should ask. He must have been aware of the fear he’d caused in me. I could see my hands were shakin’ -- never thought I’d be set free. His tiny voice became quite clear and in a most convincing tone He said, “My friend, be not afraid – I‘m here all alone.” He appeared to be confused a bit and why, I’ll never know But the fear that he had fostered was about to let me go. He began to tell his story; I let out a sigh I knew I’d better listen to this little guy. Now, he was small in stature; ‘bout a half inch, nothin’ more – Why, I believe that he could pass through the space beneath the door. . He then began to tell me – It must sound like a dream. He was here because of some wayward sunbeam. “I race Haley’s comet to the far side of the sun.” He said, “The race is always over before it has begun. There is a reason for these victories, you see My good ship Omnipresence, right here in front of me.” “Time and space,” He said. “Are always at my command. I can do more things with them than man can understand.” He said, “I spin the rings of Saturn, create firmament at will I flew a mission of atonement to a very special hill.” I asked, “Do you know Jesus? He died upon that hill.” He said, “When all things are settled, everybody will. I led three wise men to him that cold and wintry night The shepherds were there to witness a miraculous sight So you ask do I know Jesus? -- it fills me with such mirth -- This very craft was hidden there at the moment of His birth. I was there to hear the angels when they sang out on high. Yes, I’d say I know Jesus, That’s why I’ll never die.” Written By John Posey 12/18/12

Copyright © John Posey | Year Posted 2012


Details | Race Poem | |

BiPartisan Dissonance

When oppositional cognitive dissonance deflects focus,
it tends to go back to when I deflected focus from her.
She sends me passive-aggressive messages,
bread crumbs leading back in time 
to where she began to feel alone,
marginalized,
siloed,
anxious.

If you don't want a sopping wet tile bathroom floor
because I have thrown all my naked Barbie and Ken parts,
especially their water-filled hollow insides,
and the five saturated pools of stained white washcloths
I took out of that drawer just like you said not to,
and the nice sudsy soft bar of soap,
then you might want to reconsider leaving the bathroom
during my bath.
You might want to think of telling a story
or imagining with my behavioral lectures
I so mercilessly inflict
on the shattered heads of my daughters,
oops,
I mean dolls.

Perhaps oppositional cognitive dissonance 
is what Republicans have about Democrats.

If you folks would be so kind as to return to cooperative civic and civil discussion,
about my intrinsic dignity, royalty perhaps,
sense of anthrocentric entitlement,
immaculate integrity as a permacultured Orthodox Tradition,
utterly necessary to optimize sustainable and resilient health
for All Americans,
(although perhaps not quite sufficient),
including those who happen to have become embarrassed
by their unhealthy wealth and extravagant disregard
for undercommodified values,
like caring and nurturing, loving and therapeutic
mentoring relationships and trees of life, and economic
and eco-logical environ-mental (0)-sum cooperative networks,
like the synergy of all natural systems,
most especially religious cultures
delivering a united and interdependent positive teleology
that we all created this rapacious, extractive mess together.

So, please stop leaving the bathroom of discourse,
regardless of how rhetorically insane and polemic,
every time we complain about your shitty attitudes
about wealthy compost and sustainable,
resilient,
optimized economic growth.
Then you democratically complain,
by voting for the one you hate the least,
as we go right on doing
what we intended to do
while we were throwing water
on your slippery-floor economics
of radical,
reverse-hierarchical interdependence and mutual subsidiarity.
Much too "solidarity" for Republican taste as True,
much less Just to those who prefer their
economically entrenched competitive silos.

And,
our Democratic family value parents 
hear their oppositionally disordered Republicans
as if they were bionically alien unitarian utilitarians,
like honey bees and ant hives,
devoid of deductive rational accessibility,
of even one of four dimensions of truth,
and  without capacity to empathize with their well-mentored praxis,
of continually forgetting you could not climb a higher priority
right now
than telling your oppositional daughter Dr. Seuss's The Lorax, 
interpreting each voice as your own Lorax Logos,
wondering why you continue competing
to reach a Win-Win Cooperative Game,
and political
and economic
and ecological
and cultural 
and biological karmic finish line,
alone in your Permaculture Designed polycultural PolyLife Tree Paradise.

When you think about it,
you can see that your competitive political
and economic assumption,
that Win-Win cooperation will not have our final say,
is not ecologically, scientifically,
or even permaculturally, metaphysically
sound, rational, integrated,
sustainably designed to benefit future generations,
much less synergetic or holonically comprehensive.

You can't win a P=NP,
4-fractal/spiral (0)-sum
cooperative economic logistical plan
until everyone else has the freedom
and integrity
and ecotherapeutic orthopraxis comprehension,
intention,
to win-win with you, coincidentally.

With this perhaps un-Christian, 
and vaguely irreligious perspective
that Democratic mutual-redeemer culture
is closer to (0) sum Core Value Balanced Heaven
rationality, and intuition,
than appears to be the case
for our benighted Republican
wealthy fat-cat anthro-supremacist residents of Earth,
we have turned rather too far
our spinning cultural revolution pendulum
away from the racist sin of monocultural monotheism,
poverty and the overpowering commodification of human lives,
and the commodification of other species,
and the commodification of Earth's fire, water,
soil and sky,
Her capacity to regenerate fertile seeds,
turning away from sin as sterile insanity,
disability and absence,
to now prophecy the sins of monopolistic wealth,
and power;
to notice challenging, dissonant tipping points
within monocultural,
monochromatic,
monopolistic 
bicamerally competing economic uncertainty
and ecological dysfunction for all consciousness
all nations,
reconnecting our more humane DNA-informed
bicameral information processor branch of EcoTribe,
RNA-inscribed,
transliterate,
multisystemic and polycultural Climax Community,
diastatically 
interdependently
coincidentally straining and stressing to comprehend
Polynomial SpaceTime = Not-Not Polynomial Open Systemic Binomial Prime Relationship Temporal "Now"
as Yang-convex/positive = Yin-concave/negative,
as +1.00% QBit = +/-(0)% Soul Core-emergent universal Vertex/Dark Recessional Vortex (Perelman, 1993)

So, yes, maybe somewhat closer,
but closer doesn't count
when playing Win-Win economic ecotherapy.
Horseshoes don't fit elephants.

Speaking of elephants in too-narrow-minded oppositional spaces, 
where was I?
Oh, yes, she’s in the bathtub again,
better watch that floor.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2015


Details | Race Poem | |

No Triple Crown Winner

California Chrome’s bid for a triple crown was a no-go. He didn’t win, he didn’t place. He didn’t even show. The owners of the horse were hoping to pop the cork at the Belmont Raceway in New York. Down the drain went the hope for history with fortune and fame. Many said the horse that won the Derby and the Preakness was not the same. Loads of betters were disappointed. What a shame! No thanks to another horse by the name of “Tonalist”, another bid for a triple crown winner was missed. Nobody will ever see me at the race tracks rambling. No matter how you look at it, it’s still considered gambling.

Copyright © Robert Pettit | Year Posted 2014


Details | Race Poem | |

Talkin' Bout My Generation

What has happened to our kids?
Why did we become the type of parents we did?
Is there a name for us?  
Slower, easier, then turned into a mess of fuss

Using our imaginations and reading the classics galore
So much lovely literature to explore
Had to look up facts in a Book
Critical thinking came without one second look

Now we have I.T. people at schools
Showing and telling us...
 something I never really wanted to use
Gets me into trouble
What DO YOU mean I can't have that document on the double?

So, this generation I am in...the before and after
Are a special bunch of people going faster and faster
We are a special generation, you see
We grew up without the almighty god of technology

People try to put us down... cuz' we don't know the way around
Can ya dig what I'm tryin' to say?  Computers will never fade away
I'm not tryin' to cause a big sensation...
Google is fine, but not the only means of education

Copyright © Jennifer Young | Year Posted 2014


Details | Race Poem | |

The Non-Marathon

Today the New York Marathon's
Become a non-event.
The runners' opportunities
To race both came and went.

At first the mayor said it's on,
Despite the storm's destruction;
And then, last minute, pulled the plug
And gave a new instruction.

The racers coming to New York
Most likely were confused;
And those who paid for flights and rooms
I'm sure were not amused.

It's sad that all that training
For this race has come to naught,
The miles of pavement pounded
On each sneaker that was bought.

But certainly the mayor
Could have hurrried his decision.
His turnabout last-minute call
Has earned him great derision.

The city wasn't ready yet
To up and celebrate.
The mayor should have known that,
But discovered it too late.

Copyright © ilene bauer | Year Posted 2012


Details | Race Poem | |

Gold-Trochee

If my horse on the race course
a winner for me
then the course for my race horse
makes me debt free.

So the beat of the mare's feet
makes me debt free
gold such a treat for this feat
a winner for me.

Copyright © harry horsman | Year Posted 2012


Details | Race Poem | |

Ghetto Children

Gunshots be leavin 'em children alone
they gotta find a way all on they own
kids screamin out sets for hope 
then run around with a crew slangin dope
can't forget that they saw they fathers go
witness to earth the bloodiest show
to young to truly understand 
despite what ya heard God won't hold your hand
It seems to me that we've been forlorn
destined death after death to mourn
lookin at the future of us all
death to brothas come at a sudden call
little children begin to see the light 
keep on killin knowin that it ain't right
but desperation sets in hopin for death
because it's to painful to take another breath

How many of my brotha's died last week 
an an answer given not for the weak
life like this shoulda made us sick
creepin in streets tryin not to get licked
time again are numbers start to dwindle
hopein for knew life in this race to be kindled
but all we ever do is disappear
it's funny that are lives are consumed by fear
and are youngstas reproduce fast
more brothas get shot lives endin in head casts
why do we gotta die at such a rate
a brotha feel cold heat as if it's fate
and as my brothas always seem to die
my race got another reason to cry
little niggas is our only men
no more elders in my dearest black kin

Now we got kids runnin da street 
that means, the judge and jury da heat
the boys in blue pilein up da dead
crackas in th oval office shakein da head
the ghettos so lost can we find a way
it seem's that the only hope we got is to pray
and children already learn how god do
give to those who take so we take with a 22
now we gotta cope, sippin' on brew
gettin faded thinkin bout the dirt we do
and that just make a brotha think 
why we be born livin on da brink
seein bodies fallin fast in packs
cause it be like we forced to fire back
so thelast thing is to put bodies in bags
at da funeral drapin our brothas with rags

Copyright © Christopher Williams | Year Posted 2005


Details | Race Poem | |

When I was a lass

When I was a lass, we didn’t have much
Funny how we liked it though, just as such
We played in the street with a whip and top
In the school playground on a hopscotch we’d hop

Streets were quiet ‘cause there weren’t many cars
Falling off our bikes to leave a few more scars
Dandelion and burdock to drink with Sunday dinner
Yorkshire pudding first, that was always a winner

I remember when I did the hula hoop real good
I can’t do it anymore but really wish I could
Blackjacks, fruit salad, sweets and sherbet dips
Pear drops in our penny mix along with cherry lips

Love hearts, fruit gums and liquorice shoelaces
Sports days at school, the egg and spoon races
The three legged race and the sack race too
There were lots of sports we had to try and do

We had to behave ourselves when we were young
At school in the assemblies hymns were sung
Snowball fights and sledging we had in the snow
Where did all those lovely years really go

Then we grew up and things moved on
All those years as a child had now gone
 I remember it so well but it was long ago
I wish I was a lass again, knowing what I know 

Copyright © Pamela Griffiths | Year Posted 2009


Details | Race Poem | |

Lost Identity: View point of a slave

Why is my skin color different?
Did God make me this way?
When he made me, did he have
intentions on me being a slave?

And I thought we were all brothers,
including all the ones of different colors.

But why are they beating and hurting the others.
Someone save me, I didn't choose this life.
These scars, they've carved me with the sharpest
knives.

All I have is my faith.
Because if I'd held on to anything else
it'd be theres to take.

What is it that I ask for?
Equality, I preach.
Something small to you, 
but makes a difference
for me.

Whipping, spitting, hitting on me.
Raping our women in your wife's sheets.
Taking our children and turning them into workers.
No sense of empathy, grief or composer.

For the brotha' on my left and my sista' on the right,
with the courage that I hold I will continue to fight.
You have taken away my freedom, and most of my life.
But what you have failed to obtain is my state of mind.

Go ahead work my body, and do all that you please.
This is just a shell anyway, it's not coming with me.
You spit, you laugh, thinking you gained the world.
You think you have power because you've raped a young girl.

Stand tall sir with all of that pride.
And go ahead and hold it until the day that you die.
But your day will come when you'll fall to your knees.
Feeling the burn on your body from the whips you've given me.

"The LORD is my shelter,"
I continue to say.
While my soul goes up as God takes me away.
I wish you peace with smile on my face,
knowing that God teaches the fullness of grace.


Copyright © Amber Binford | Year Posted 2014


Details | Race Poem | |

Don't Judge Me for Existing

Why do you give me a hard look from your face?
that you don't like what you see?
that I'm from a different race?

Why can't we see eye to eye?
why do I disgust you,
like you don't wanna be near me
would you please tell me?
tell me why you hate me?

Do you hate me because of the color of my skin?
like I'm a disease?
you don't think I have desires?
that I have needs?

We aren't from the same race,
but by soul,
we live in the same world.
You may think I'm nothing,
just push me into the mud,
knowing we both have the same colored blood.
You can't judge me by my appearance,
or by my race,
or even the color on my face.
Say what you want to say,
you can't judge me,
for I didn't choose to be born this way.

Copyright © verlena dillard | Year Posted 2014


Details | Race Poem | |

Run Run Run

Run run run rapidly readily rigorously
Reaching roads rivers railways
Run run run rough remote rambling routes
Realizing regret remorse remain redundant
Run run run re-evaluating racing rituals
Remaining respectful responsible  relaxed
Run run run repetitively run run run repeatedly
 

Copyright © Fate Dictates | Year Posted 2014


Details | Race Poem | |

We are a family of ONE

I don't need to judge I hear there is a higher thrown for that.
I don't feed the sludge because I'm better than to brat about what's not me.
I don't fleet to the flood of the mud because the water I wait to meet
To greet it with such appreciation for all that is and for all of what I can be.
makes me feel free from the debree to degrade of what's made of other things.

 I don't fret on the color of another because they could be my sister or brother
We all bleed the same shade We all breed to the same grade 
all on the same grind to find a greater gallow than to stay blind
and that you will, if you just dont live and let live.
We all have standards but can you can't expect love if it's not what you give

Respectfully,
R.R.

Copyright © B. Maxine Revolution | Year Posted 2014


Details | Race Poem | |

Our Skin

This is a poem of skin,
for my boyfriend who is not my exact shade but equally brilliant and equally enlightened.
He extracts my darkness, 
takes from me my undeniable fears,
placing my tortures,
wearing them on his sleeve,
for his color bears the weight of agony,
of wretched past blankets of ignorant fools
who shadowed themselves from ever doing a damn thing about the separation.

This is for him.
He wears his skin better then I wear mine.
He conquers my struggles before they can even reach my heart.
Brave and beaming with un-moon lit skies,
for pores like portals,
opening himself for the world to look into history of wartimes-
Through skin-
Through skin-
Through skin-
For humans-
For humans-
For humans.

This is for my boyfriend.
My skin. Your skin. 
All this history,
Hung from ropes-
that tear weathered men into corpses
and survivors into broad shouldered, level headed, fighters of equality.

Puppeteers play with our teeth.
Wording our mannerisms into stereotypical allegories,
and fables we have all heard before.
We all have installed into our chests rages of racism-
miles of superiority,
of bare backed proposed authority.
Reality is here.
History is here,
But often not taught well enough to understand the difference
Between moving forward and standing still.

This is for you.
You, the one with skin.
For you with history.
Why do we call dark skin people of color.
We all have color.
We all burn bright.
We all bring light
To the universe with the energy of our presence.

You, over there,
with tears of deep lakes
and uncharted survival skills-
put me on your map.

This is for you.
For skin.
For color.
For shade.
For agony.
For rage.
For freedom.
My skin.
Your skin.
Our skin.
Our skin.

Copyright © Katie Pukash | Year Posted 2013


Details | Race Poem | |

The Song of the 2014 Stanley Cup Playoffs

TYPICAL 30 - The Start of the 2013-2014 NHL Season
30 of them began their battle with hopeful beginnings
But 14 of them will have their early exit...

As for the 16 teams, their Stanley Cup Playoffs dream begins

The SWEET 16 were chosen, who will be the ones to take the fall?
Round 1 of the 2014 Stanley Cup Playoffs

Let the First Round Battle Begin!

SWEET 16 - The First Round of the 2014 Stanley Cup Playoffs
16 of them sprinted out from the starting line
But 8 of them fell short to advance...

The Tampa Bay Lightning couldn't produce any more thunder
The Detroit Red Wings ran its last engine
The St. Louis Blues have played its final note
The Dallas Stars could no longer lead the charge

The Columbus Blue Jackets fired its last cannon
The Philadelphia Flyers have crashed down
The Colorado Avalanche buried themselves in the snow
And the San Jose Sharks couldn't take a final bite

The ELITE 8 were chosen, who will the ones to take the fall?
Round 2 of the 2014 Stanley Cup Playoffs

Let the Second Round Battle Begin!

ELITE 8 - The Second Round of the 2014 Stanley Cup Playoffs
8 of them advanced to the next stage
But 4 of them failed to advance...

The Minnesota Wild could no longer pull a wild run
The Pittsburgh Penguins were left on frozen thin ice
The Boston Bruins were hunted down
And the Anaheim Ducks quacked no more

The FINAL 4 were chosen, who will the ones to take the fall?
Round 3 of the 2014 Stanley Cup Playoffs

Let the Conference Finals Begin!

FINAL 4 - The Third Round of the 2014 Stanley Cup Playoffs
4 of them advanced to the next stage
But only 2 of them will go to the final stage...

The Montreal Canadiens were left in a cold state
And the Chicago Blackhawks final stand ended in complete defeat

The TREMENDOUS 2 were chosen, who will be the one to win it all?
The Final Round of the 2014 Stanley Cup Playoffs

Let the Stanley Cup Final Begin!

TREMENDOUS 2 - The Final Round of the 2014 Stanley Cup Playoffs
2 of them danced on the big stage
But only 1 of them was crowned as the champion...

The New York Rangers could not lead the way to the finish

The ONLY 1 was chosen, a team who won through it all!
Los Angeles Kings - The 2014 Stanley Cup Champions

Let the Stanley Cup Playoffs End!

Copyright © Nileisha Giselle Deliz Diana | Year Posted 2015


Details | Race Poem | |

What is life

This is a 5-7-5 poem.



What is life to me? 
Life is adventure and free 
Seize the moment run

Copyright © Colin James Platt | Year Posted 2014