Home » Poems » Best » Sonya Kyle » Best Sonya Kyle Poems

Best Poems Written by Sonya Kyle

Below are the all-time best Sonya Kyle poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Sonya Kyle Poem

Woman

I'm raising babies all alone.
Doing this thing, because Daddy's gone.
Rubbing cocoa butter on my knees so the scars you can't see.
They come from staying and praying and being all that I can be.
Gone being absent or being absent because he's here.
I wanna cry, I wanna cry, but it ain't no time for tears.

Good guy, bad guy, I answer to both names.
But I ain't got no picture in the Hall Of Fame.
I'm washing clothes and making beds.
Cooking food and braiding heads.
Sweating all night after working all day.
Being who I am, and giving him his way.

Now I'm off to work on a few hours of sleep, but that's routine.
I begged, fought, and worked for my title queen.
Drug addict, Jesus fanatic, professional talker, street walker, your boss, high cost.
His lover, their mother, all shades, custom made, homemade, self made.
Deserves all her proper's for the price she has paid.

She can't be killed because the memory lives on.
Like straight black coffee, always strong.
She, her, female, lady, let me describe this again.
Lost is where this world would be without W-O-M-A-N.

Details | Sonya Kyle Poem

A Poet's Buffett

I developed an appetite for words really young.
I chose my weapon and the pen was my gun.
A gift that was born inside of me.
Writing was the only time I felt free.
I was ahead of my time since I was a little girl.
Writing about things that I seen in the world.
Some things I wrote about I had no way of knowing.
I begin to write and the words kept flowing.
I wrote about past things, and things to come.
My peers didn't understand where I was coming from.

So I secretly wrote and expressed what I felt.
Writing about the cards that I was dealt.
Like seeing my father gun down, never to hold me again.
With a shotgun blast because of the color of his skin.
Watching my Mom trying to hold it together.
A brave strong woman that I love forever.
I wrote about being teased because I didn't fit in.
I found comfort in my paper and love in my pen.

Girls my age didn't want to be around me either.
Because I was raised not to be a follower, always be a leader.
I didn't do fads, and to me trends were dumb.
So I walked to the beat of my own private drum.
As time kept going, so did I.
I began to experience the things that made me cry.
The disappointments, betrayals, and heartbreaks too.
I wrote when I was happy, and wrote when I was blue.

I traveled many places with my poetry and rhymes.
Thinking that I would make it big, it was only a matter of time.
But while all this was going on illness struck this poet.
I was knocking at death's door and I didn't even know it.
I've opened up for some of the biggest names to date.
I was sure I would be a famous poet, I just had to wait.
Standing ovations on every stage that I've ever walked.
People felt the truth in their heart's whenever I wrote or talked.

The offers were there and the money sounded great.
But I found out by God himself, "the business" wasn't my fate.
I was raised with morals and values and some things I refuse to do.
You'd be surprised at the things that people will ask of you.
I wasn't about to be famous by laying on my back.
Or being degraded, so that ended that.
The entertainment business is like a deal with the devil.
You have to sign your soul away to get to the next level.

I wasn't accepted in the literary groups because I didn't possess a degree.
And I refuse to be anyone other than me.
I happened upon PoetrySoup and I felt welcomed from the start.
Finally I was able to express myself straight from the heart.
I feel the love and I know that all will be okay.
Sitting down with royalty at a Poet's Buffett.

Details | Sonya Kyle Poem

Living Life

Living Life

Now I'm living life where life tried to live me.
I'm looking to my future 'cause my past tried to kill me.
Poetry, a strong part of my soul.
The story of my life, it's must be told.
I ain't no baby, I'm a woman well seasoned.
Let me whisper in your ear and I'll give you some reasons.
Sonya's been to hell, but now I'm back.
I only spit the real and that's a fact.
I ain't no rapper, I'm a Poet to the bone.
And I've been pregnant with this message for way too long.

I did the streets to the fullest, so I can't be caught.
The game became the hunter and I can't be bought.
It makes me wanna holla, it makes me wanna shout.
These are the things that I'm flowing about.
Relationships, heartaches, tears and pain.
The drinking, the drugging, the tripping in shame.
Babies Daddies, Babies Mama's Sugar Daddy, Sugar Mama.
The who's doing who and all the under cover drama.
They stab me in my back, while they smile in my face.
No respect, dignity, class or grace.

Jails, poverty, it's all so unsavory.
I ain't getting caught up in this modern day slavery.
I hope to start the healing, so feel my tone.
Or I'm just a copycat sister, all the way wrong.
I got dreams of making it big, and dreams of being rich.
And I know that ain't gonna stop nobody from calling me a.
Now I'm living life where life tried to live me.
I'm looking to my future, 'cause my past tried to kill me.

Is it the memory of the man from the 1980's.
He beats me, mistreats me, can you feel me ladies.
Or did he dress so well and look so fine.
You know the one on the down low the whole dam time.
Was it the man from the 90's who gave me the drugs.
Too blind with lust to see my grave being dug.
Or the good looking bad boy who turned my body out.
Was he chasing the paper, or trying to pimp a sister out.
Was it the wolf in sheep's clothing who promised me the world.
He's got five different kids with five different girls.

The bank account is gone and so is the man.
I'm all cried out, now I'm working my hand.
Been there, done that, I'm chipped not cracked.
What don't break a woman make a woman, I know this for a fact.
I ain't preaching, but I'm teaching through my eyes as I see it.
I was born to be the best, believe I'm gonna be it.
I'm free from his games, I'm no longer a slave.
Don't need no cage or a whip to teach me how to behave.
Now I'm living life, where life tried to live me.
I'm looking to my future, 'cause my past tried to kill me.

Written by:  Sonya "TheRealityPoet" Kyle
Copyright 2012

Details | Sonya Kyle Poem

Life and Death

The sun shines bright, feeling so warm.

Feel the chill in the air, here comes the storm.

Nothing's the same in the aftermath.

The storm has made a different path.

Enjoy the sun that follows the moon.

For another storm will come real soon.

Details | Sonya Kyle Poem

Movin' On

Short curly haired, dimpled face little girl.
Born in a place known as ghetto world.
She can see it plain as day through those big brown eyes.
She's gotta grow up quick, she's gotta grow up wise.
If she wants to live long, she better keep movin' on.

Dead Sister, family violence.
Dead Daddy, race riots.
Mama strugglin', Mama cryin'.
Mama dealin' with all this dyin'.
Burnin' buildings, no fire trucks.
Can't get out because we're stuck.

Lootin' and killin', cops don't care.
Mama lookin' for Daddy and he ain't even there.
Glenville riots 1968.
Chose for me an early fate.
Bang, Bang, Bang, Shots, Shots, Shots.
Daddy's next bed, a flip top box.

Peanut brown, growin' up nicely dressed.
With Grandma's breast.
She has brains.
Her heart in pain.
No friends, they're green.
Most of them with a poison unseen.

Found a friend or so I thought.
In my mind was being taught.
We takin' a trip.
Mama havin' a fit.
It's a pain endeavored.
A secret buried forever.

Wet high, dry high, which would it be?
Who knew these two would fight as to who would murder me.
Mama cryin' because I'm dyin'.
I have no clue because I'm flyin'.
My wings are clipped and I'm fallin' screamin' "God help me please".
Busted face, broken heart, my spirit has a disease.

If she wants to live long.
She better keep movin' on.
Been to hell, but now she's back.
And it ain't experience that she lacks.
Got the love of her Supreme.
Now she's fightin' for her dream.
To have her voice in black and white for the world to recognize.
With the bumps and bruises of life to open her eyes.

A million stories to be told.
A million mysteries to unfold.
Survivin', Black, Female, wanting to live long.
I gotta go, I gotta leave, I gotta keep movin' on.

Written By:  Sonya "TheRealityPoet" Kyle
Copyright 1996