Melanin Forest
In realms of ink and solitude I dwell,
A poet's soul, an ancient tale to tell.
Within these words, my heart bleeds sincere,
Of being a poet, black and without fear.
Like twilight's symphony, my rhyme awakes,
A melodic dance, where beauty takes shape.
Freely I divulge the thoughts that reside,
In realms of darkness where dreams do confide.
With every verse that pours from my pen,
I embrace the rhythm of my melanin.
Words painted in hues of strength and might,
A tapestry formed of ebony and light.
My voice, a beacon in a world so vast,
Telling tales of struggles from the distant past.
Through verses, I reclaim my heritage's voice,
Each stanza, a testament, a powerful choice.
I bleed emotions with every uttered line,
Exploring the depths of what it means to be mine.
Warrior, poet, at this intersection I stand,
Defying stereotypes, breaking each command.
From Langston's wisdom to Maya's truths,
To Gwendolyn's grace, unyielding in pursuit.
In their footsteps, I walk, weaving my own verse,
Steeped in resilience, haunted by the curse.
But within these words, I find solace and peace,
An instrument of change, a path to release.
For poetry is a bridge, connecting souls,
Celebrating unity, making us whole.
As a poet, black, I stand tall and free,
Speaking with cadence, embracing my ancestry.
Through the power of words, my voice takes flight,
A pen, my weapon, against injustice's blight.
So let my ink flow, unbounded and true,
For my existence, my heritage, and my hue.
A poet, black, unafraid to embrace,
The beauty within, the courage to chase.
Copyright © Leah Brunson | Year Posted 2025
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment