Best Black Poems
Black Diamond Night (a coal miner’s cemetery)
Where the ebony, we call “NIGHT”,
Old black rocks sit under the twilight
Diamond shape eyes unclear and lonely,
Sinister through hostile spirits only,
I stumble across these stones without a bone
A solitary confinement alone,
From a barren zone the light transcend
Only in time, our minds will mend
Endless valleys and limitless stones
These bones- these bones they sit alone
The abyss, of rotten cavities with no fill,
A system no power can unwell the drill
The blood that passed over without a spill
Peaks collapse into a spellbinding chill
They are trapped! They are trapped!
Another diamond in the rough
Is what they left
Obsessed with the dead without a death
A death that impatiently awaited their last breath
Gushing, into the gems of dead chemistry,
Diamonds holding its own intensity,
These lonely graves, on top of sycamore hill
Coal mining hearts that will never heal
If only shiny eyes could see?
These lonely bones inside of me!
Moving in every direction possible
Flowing in every direction noticeable
Sockets without eyes.
Stones hiding under the cobalt skies.
The mad sparkles, the madness dies.
Throughout this mess, we held in the blasphemous
Intervening lots of gems so miraculous
Into a stone of self-religion,
A black night filled of legions
Acknowledging the soul's capacity of free
Near the frail bones that sit alone,
Alone they sit in a morbid home.
Through a path unclear and all alone,
Troubled by the visions of my own stone
Where the night takes place in the dark
The ebony rides under the diamond bark
Along with the coal miners who never got to see the;
“Diamonds of another day!”
It's like a black cloak around our world bringing misery and death
Virologists are saying " you ain't seen nothing yet"
If only our leaders would look back, at how these viruses thrive
They'd have got answers in history books and many would still be alive.
It will soon be the norm for families each and everyday
To attend funerals of loved ones who have passed away
And while adults pay their respects and kneel down to pray
Children will get bored and around the tombstones they'll play.
Every country takes action their way and will not be told
If they follow the W.H.O. 's advice more would live to be old
But it's far too late now covid - 19 is thriving
While we fight the virus with emphasis on surviving.
Don't mix with others and steer well clear of the crowd
Or it might be you that will be covered with a shroud
To increase your chance of survival, ruthless you've got to be
Even keeping a safe distance from your own family.
Crime is now rife there's profiteering and panic buying
Not enough is being done and the death toll is rising
Some impliment soft measures that seem quite funny
They don't care about you it's all about the money.
We all need to take care singing from the same hymn sheet
Or it won't be too long before the army's on the street
People will get mean and desperate in order to thrive
Pushing aside the weak and vulnerable who'll struggle to survive.
Our health workers pushed to the limit administering care
While the selfish among us strip supermarket shelves bare
But others are doing good things for their fellow man
No one knows if they'll get ill so do good deeds while you can.
Written 21st March 2020.
"America First",
is the worst.
Should not thinking of others,
be your thirst?
Those who are selfish,
end up being cursed!
Soon they'll be last,
instead of first.
Who among you,
prefers guns and war?
Do you really have freedom,
shore to shore?
If most have less,
are you happy with more?
Should the privileged few,
be guarding the door?
Protectionism,
rots you to the core.
In the end,
you won't know who it's for?
What does it mean,
to be "Great Again"?
I'll listen to learn,
try your best to explain!
Were there fields of cotton and sugarcane?
Was it back of the bus perfect,
everyone staying in their own lane?
A pain striped passport,
for those on the soul train.
If you know the truth,
please speak it plain.
I want to find great,
I've wracked my brain.
Whose America are you trying to regain?
BLACK and BLUE
Today I wonder,
Wonder why?
You hit me in the eye,
you made me cry.
My eyes are brown,
Now they're black and blue.
Is that what I get for loving you?
My lips are pink, now they're bloody red.
Is that what I get!!!
Do you wish I were dead?
My teeth are white,
I just lost three,
Is that what I get over a little fight?
I see a smile underneath,
I see you leaving with the police.
I finally got rid of you.
I can't believe I waited,
UNTIL I WAS BLACK AND BLUE.
SK
NOTE: True story, I finally did the right thing and called the cops
Twenty first of October in two thousand and eighteen
Was the worst disaster poetry soup had seen
Poems wiped off the website as all the poets slept
When the disaster unfolded many poets wept.
Some had spent hours composing their verses
But no backup made, the air soon filled with curses
Contest entries too vanished without trace
Sponsors left fuming they had nothing to place.
And the beautiful comments people said about you
Into a cyber space black hole they all vanished too
The next night the poems, to everyone’s dismay
Returned to the site, ‘twas like Groundhog day.
Some blamed the Russians, some blamed the C.I.A.
Others wanted revenge for what happened that day
But do rest assured, soup said “have no fear
Free membership for everyone, for a whole year”
Now that’s a kind act I’m sure you’ll agree
Remember worse disasters have happened at sea
The moral of this verse is to remind everyone
Make a backup of your work when it is done.
(This did happen, not sure about the free membership though lol.
But it is a wake up call; always back up your work.)
I'm an ashen dove,
fading in zephyr
of wine valleys,
saturating in fog
upon enchanting hills,
draped in
grape-green silk,
where fantasies of forest,
sprout cynthia moon
of a bygone
medieval saga,
amidst heavenly
eventides,
and wailing weeds
prick my shadow,
infusing iced intentions
of the puppet's paradise~
floating in islets
of shackled bones.
My wings are
made of violet wool,
fluffed with
blueberry cotton
and stitched
with the fabric of
amethyst satin,
but as soon as
my tiptoeing feet
touch the
seafoam grass,
it stings my silent
glacial flight,
making me bleed
in chloroform-
dipped letters.
If love was a
rosy matte comet,
I would carve
pastel orchid smiles
amidst kismet-coated
cherry blossoms,
with frozen floral paints
and forgive
beige betrayals
of aqua sirens,
to which the
scents of evermore,
sweetly succumbed.
But maybe,
jasper tinted
jasmine petals,
are sewn with
poisoned thistles
whilst being
dispersed upon
the chambers of
midnight raindrops,
and those
soulful stars
in your eyes are
a mere mirage,
flourishing
false silhouettes of
a perfumed
saudade in
nocturnal negligence.
So, pardon these
bleeding metaphors
that echo sombre
sun's soliloquy in the
hazy kiss of gloom
and follow me
to the teal towers,
where this
fluorescent flesh
slumbers in enfolded
spruce leaves of
sequoia sonnets.
For, when the last petal
falls as poetry,
my soul would be
alive in wistful runes,
mourning in a
doleful decanter,
whilst eyes
would frown
in fragile promises,
wiping diplomatic
dust of dolent delusions
and knitting mists of
manipulations,
carelessly sinking~
to soil of feathered
dandelions.
Where nurtured seeds
of jade reflections,
still haven't ruptured
every pixie dust of hope,
in their life's
dormant decession,
reminisce me
as an ivory moonrise,
fluttering beyond,
dahlia chains of sunshine.
Madame Mistress, ebonies princess,
Southern comforts golden jewel,
A golden beauty down south does dwell.
She hides many secrets beneath her,
Glittering mask of mystery's mystic spells.
A dark priestess is this Cajun queen,
Black widows magic women,
Known as Ms. New Orleans.
In her crimson gown, trimmed by
Velvet's purple hues, she smiles
Behind her white lace fan.
A beguiling angel is she the devils
Own kindred.
The voodoo queen of the swampy delta,
Ruling over the shadow demons,
Whom guard the everglades.
Underneath fancy face and social grace,
Lies the misbegotten heart of a
Witches soul.
Here the trumpets sound at,
La Carnival as minstrels stroll,
Down Bourbon Street with rhythmic,
Precision's precise step.
Come join in celebrations grand parade,
The Maude Gra. Where anything goes,
Here things are forgotten as the sun rises,
This grand lady of beauty's legacy's charm.
Presses one finger to her redden lips,
Speaking not more than a hushed whispers
Sigh carried across bayou.
Thus does the Spanish moss weep, for
Those lost souls swallowed whole,
Beneath nights dark covenant of death.
Ghostly images walk the muddy side shores,
Phantom spectators existing as prisoners,
Trapped in limbos web, a thin fine line
Between the living and the dead.
Beware lone travelers, those for whom,
Seek mysteries glamor and mystic,
Of the southern by ways.
All are welcome to taste our spicy
Hospitality.
Yet beware pay homages respect,
To Mz. New Orleans, she after all takes
Great care of her own.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
"Black Cockatoo"
I was white
as pure snow cotton
thread through the eye of God's needle
Black
he was,
not Egyptian, more ancient
he walked
in the Dreamtime
with the forgotten people
obsidian
We swam the
well known swan song
like a diamond river snake long
Swimming naked in a billabong
Light I was, white watching black
He shone, glistening a white freshwater pearl smile
He wrote the song
in Ochre, eyes black ink
slow lines feather light fingers along
the curves of my body
powder white
painted against his shadow
our hands
entwined together
against a grey granite wall
native bush plum ripe
on my raised lips
I stroked white lines
against his walk about hot fire opal skin
lost in the Dreamtime
somewhere found
metronoming
black fingers
stroking a ghost white heart
language running lost in meaning
along a lush sweet breast those fingers ran
towards the long legged
cross road torn apart
emu running
evoking
bushfire burning
lizard tale fingers shorthand painting
scorching the place where
the creek born runs
spits paint all over
charcoal stone heart
a wall beckons
a throat to flow like a river
where the words are trapped
and damned,
he stands
I have delivered
the ransom
caged minds in silence
speak and glow
hard lips kiss
Tongues speak
Love knows
Black Cockatoo Sings
White girl
walking Black Mountain
lost in the Never Return
In the Demons' Land
(LadyLabyrinth/ 2020)
Uncomplicated me
I thought I was colour blind
free thinking and kind
with an evolved mind
Loving and accepting
of the ones I find
Yet my blindness
Is that of privilege
I'm just a visitor
in the Global village
From my narrow thin mind
there is too much spillage
Although so many
are forced from their homes
My life seems carefree
I am deaf to the groans
Brown women wearing veils
that can't protect them from stones
I live in a white washed place
No "Freedom Marches"
for men of a different race
Yet, if I look back and trace
there are darker stories to face
We all took part in shameful things
Yes, we share in the disgrace.
Highways of tears
Rivers of shame
There's always
someone else to blame
Residential schools
Each child got a new name
They were forced to forget
the place from where they came
Prisons filled
with black and red skinned men
They can't forget
this now or that then
Promises and promises
but who how and when
Or will their children
have to live it all over again
So yes
No longer colour blind
With the opening of my mind
I let colour seep in
Starting somewhere different
today I begin
Because I know
it shouldn't be
just the privileged who win!
Jesus Savior...Pilot Me from walkinginsunlight.com
Across the blackest waters
ripples of pain,
swell into an anguish splashing
against the blackest shore,
and in the rustling of brittle leaves
from the shadows of tallest trees,
the darkness beckons me
to climb aboard, climb aboard,
an empty boat waiting
upon the blackest shore.
Through depths of night, I ride atop
the black of cavernous waves.
They seem to be a hollow echo
calling out my name
from the splashing of the oars
to the splashing of my pain
against the rocking boat
in the blackening of waves.
Across the water, I stir the black
and do not feel afraid,
but wonder if the water knows it holds
my every pain
my every shame
and every tear
cried out on my darkest days.
Then, from the other side, I hear the splash
of steady rain.
The purging from above seems to calm
my darkest pain.
I dip the oars deeper still
to head for waiting shores,
and from the water's floor,
bubbling, rising
more and more,
I hear the splashing,
splashing
of my own resounding laughter.
Then, a calm lightens my struggle
as the sunrise pales
my dark disasters,
and in the glare of morning
from bright sunbeams above,
I remember with a prayer,
I am loved.
I am loved
I am loved.
Written 6/4/20 for Kai Michael Neumann's
Splash Poetry Contest
Black like a rare diamond.
Perfectly sculpted.
White as a snowy peek .
Reflecting off the glistening waves.
Your beauty and grace challenge us.
Mostly free, we morn for your captured brothers.
Gliding and leaping through the blue.
Chasing your soul mates protecting your tribe.
Your song is herd for miles deep.
Echoing on the icebergs.
You are magnificent, alluring.
Teasing us with your glance.
Swim far Orca be free
My black is majestic my black is smooth
Even when I was banished from public pool
Even if I was portrayed black face fool
I was a raven flying above you.
I am much more than kinky hair
Thick thighs brown eyes and ebony stare
I am the truth if you want or dare
Take my hand and I’ll take you there.
Black is deeper than had been enslaved
Nothing weaker than to steal me away
From my history where I am great
From times mystery of healing faith
October 17th we celebrate
All black poets on black poetry day
You don’t have to know it that you are a poem
written by spirit, fruit of the loin strong.
Most of us poets are not well known
In our hearts we find gem stone home
For literacy and for fuchsia full blown
Purple royal words we call our own.
This piece was sparked by an idea in a fellow poet Tom Woody’s’ — “Last Dance Amid the Stars.” I however, followed a very different emotional path — one that avoids finality and leaves room for mystery and one’s own imagination. The story also touches on the true stories of a growing trend with tragic consequences — lives lost in the pursuit of that one perfect selfie in scenic spots. This dangerous craze has already claimed lives. It’s a heartfelt reminder for us all to stay grounded — in every sense of the word.
Lyrics
Into The Black Hole Sun - A Cosmic Ballad of Love, Loss and Illusion
Phone in my left hand,
a metal hook in my right
A Grand Canyon dream
dust in the night
"Just one more selfie,"
her voice still remains
now she’s lying below,
and I’m drowning in blame
Oh, the wind the wind
it whispers her name
echoes of laughter,
lost in the game
We were dancing on Neptune,
chasing the stars
riding Saturn’s rings
like a cosmic guitar
skipping past Earth,
straight to Venus we’d fly
Why'd her wings disappear
as she fell from the sky?
Now I ride the Milky Way,
lost in the haze
coasting astral winds
through Jupiter’s maze
Had a talk with a rover
‘bout faith and decay
But it don’t really matter
she’s too far away
This void, this void
keeps calling me back with
lures of a one-way ticket, that’s a fact
We were dancing on Neptune,
chasing the stars
riding Saturn’s rings
like a cosmic guitar
skipping past Earth,
straight to Venus we’d fly
What made her lose her wings
when she fell from the sky?
One last swig, one last thought
One last look at what I’ve lost
Slowly I fall lost in the haze
into the dark where shadows blaze
Black hole sun, light up the sky
Spinning into stardust,
Where memories lie
Gravity fades, no more pain
Just an endless reunion
Just an endless reunion
In space
I am like an avalanche slithering in shivering angst,
free-falling into an abyss of an aching era,
where luminous lakes reflect pixelated regrets,
for time throws my canvas into splitting helplessness,
and mind plays tricks in aimless frequency,
framing toneless tenors within paralyzed psyche,
pushing and pulling ivory strings of my ebony heart.
Now I’m dwelling in the chaotic caves of a calculative carnivore,
unable to grasp the lunar light that envelopes forsaken fields,
while crooning caged memories, like a pensive nightingale,
pondering, would the moon ever untangle these starless thoughts?
Or was it written on the wailing walls of melancholic museums~
that I was meant to drown in dizzying darkness?
I’ll rest my pen in a glass casket of equations~
cloaking this crippled conscience from seeing beyond vague visions,
detached from kohl eyes, eager to steal my voice,
as I keep sinking in black and white polarity,
pausing curative prose in screeching silence.
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