American History Poems - Poems about American History

Born From This

Who were these people?
Those who committed such casual cruelty?
It wasn't a minority either but the majority. 
There are too many accounts of pain and sorrow to be otherwise. 
Was man another species altogether then?
Without empathy, lacking basic human compassion. 
I listen to the wind howl from ago, 
watch it vomit the times past, our past,

A Poetic Journey Through American History

Aboriginal tribes, ancient and free,
Bold explorers sailed ‘cross the vast sea.
Colonial dreams, a new world’s birth,
Devout pilgrims, a holy rebirth.
Emancipation’s fight, a nation’s test,
Freedom’s beacon, forever the best.
Great minds convened, a framework to frame,
Human rights secured, liberty’s aim.
Immense territory, a nation’s expanse,
Joint efforts waged, a defiant stance.
Keen Monroe Doctrine, a hemispheric shield,
Land’s westward march, a

A Black Man, a Noble Sight

In the land of sun and sand,
Where the world burns hot and bright,
Stands a man with skin of onyx,
A black man, a noble sight.

He walks with purpose and power,
His stride firm and unyielding,
For he knows the weight of history,
And the challenges of his being.

Through the centuries of oppression,
His people have persevered,
From the chains of slavery,
To

Origin of States Captured and Slavary

Many people continue to sing about some world states captured by some powerful business people, and 
leaders of World… 

“State capture ruling system is not a made in Europe...”

Let us look in the history of 
the world to understand the author of the states capture and the imitators of that system...

 As author of 
some published

Harlem Renaissance Haiku

Near nice allies need
to confront this beast in the 
moment to be brave.

Not in a memoir 
when you’re 75 and 
few feet from the grave. 

For colored people 
and all people of color
start a whining wave.

Why do we still fight
for the same civil rights of 
nineteen sixty-three?

Did you know Comcast
is fighting against the rights 

In Memory of Emmett Till

My mind cannot erase the memory of Emmett Till
I often dream about his badly-mutilated body –
The fourteen-year-old Black lad mercilessly beaten
To death … for ostensibly flirting with a white woman.
A victim of the era in which he lived, he was lynched,
But the men who killed him were found “Not Guilty.”
Have we any reason to wonder

Oklahoma Winds

We all have roots from seeds
In and on the fertile soil of our lives
Where we are planted to need
The place we know as home to thrive
Shaped and harvested we live to die
As the grains of wheat and hay
Kernels of corn, okra and dandelion greens
In the grand yield of who we are each day

But the winds

I Know My People

I KNOW MY PEOPLE.
I've seen their suffering and their tears,
Their anger and their fears.
I've seen them work amongst the mills,
In cotton and sugar fields.
Working with bleeding hands,
And refusing to give up then.
While tortured with whips and ropes,
And they still believe in hope.
I KNOW MY PEOPLE.
I've seen them laugh.
I've seen them cry.
I've seen them live.
I've seen

The Last Winter of the Ghost Road

The death winter came and was cold
With white on the purple mountain
The Tiwahe’, the Standing Rock People
Begged for warm fires from Iktinie the Sun Spirit
Our mouths were hungry and bodies were weak

Iya’ the Snow Monster had taken us farther to the south 
To follow Capa the Beaver Spirit
A long journey into early winter’s night
For there

My Self-Published Book On Hate, Written In 3 Chapters

Chapter 2, The 1492. 
That’s where they like to begin. They skip over the terrorists activities of theft, plunder, and genocides. When we naively thought freedom was free, We paid our lives for it during the revolution. In 1770, they Crispus Attucks us, blatantly and openly attacked us. Years later, they correct the history and

Tears On Mother Liberty

Tears on Mother Liberty

Plutocracy the society they created through the Trump towers, now they regret it Like Iraq having no democracy.

Theocracy seems Like the answer for now, for evil has ruined what was once a great nation, Living all hopeless and faithless.
God bless America!

Down your tools, raise your fists and continue the dream of Martin

Marie

She was the queen,
down in New Orleans.
She had authority,
and she is meant to be known.

 You should appreciate her,
cause she is a legend.
Her name is widely spoken.
You can't just ignore her.

 I believe in her.
Her strength, her power.
How she helped her fellow folks,
even though she was feared. 

 A woman of color, who went down

Rhythm

Music is around us 
Music is in us
We were born with a rhythm
The rhythm in us gives indication of the life in us
I put my hand on my chest and I could tap dance to the joy of my heart 
I could sing to the flatter of butterflies in my stomach 
The sun rises with

National Museum of African American History and Culture

National Museum of African American History and Culture


Stacked raisin brown
in a sea of white stone.
Far from the dome,
defiant against Rome.

Windows covered
toward deceit.
But open toward
the Emancipators feet.

Shimmering gold
in the setting sun.
Much too small to hold,
the valiant tale told.

A people risen up,
fist held high.
Praising God with,
a bold new cry.

The Solitude of Africa

The Solitude in Africa toil and helped to unfold
Stories, philosophies, and lessons to be told.
Judgmental glances seeing Africa from outdoors,
Taken in by tales of the villagers living indoors.

The epoch of age pores on in utter fascination,
History in a trance did not cause by liberation.
Subtle beings on the horizon enriched in mind, 
Striving to be a

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