Best Harlem Poems
From Harlem's pulse, a symphony untold,
Stories etched in a brownstone, dreams unfold.
Streetlamps pierce the twilight, jazz ignites,
Hope flickers, a flame against the nights.
Laughter rings on stoops where neighbors meet,
Gospel choirs rise, voices strong and sweet.
Stony sidewalks hold a million strides,
Asphalt dreams where destiny confides.
Stars peek through the rooftops, reaching high,
A silent promise whispered to the sky.
From Harlem's struggle, a spirit takes flight,
Soaring upwards, bathed in heavenly light.
you used to whisper to me
in stoop slang and bachata basslines,
kiss my cheek with corner store breath -
hot beef patties, papitas, a dollar Arizona.
you’d walk me past block parties
where the speakers cracked from joy,
and the aunties sang louder than the music.
your hands were rough -
but they knew my curves,
my story,
my roots.
but now,
your voice got quieter.
real estate signs stutter
where murals used to speak.
you wear button-ups now — ironed crisp,
smell like rosemary and rent hikes.
your laugh don’t echo
off bricks no more.
it gets lost
somewhere between the wine bar
and that dog park
you said wasn’t for us,
but now you walk through like you forgot.
when did you stop calling me “mami”?
start saying “ma’am”?
when did you trade timbs for toms,
cafecito for cold brew,
“you good?”
for
“you’re trespassing”?
i loved you when you were loud,
when you cursed and prayed in the same breath,
when your shoes had scuffs
and your hair still smelled like shea butter and sweat.
now you slicked it back — forgetful.
i see you in Whole Foods windows
with your new girls —
their yoga mats, their green juices,
their way of looking at me
like i don’t belong
in the place that built me.
you changed, Harlem,
and not in the way lovers grow —
but in the way dreams get flipped for profit.
still,
i walk your blocks like a jilted bride,
tracing memories
where laundromats used to hum
and grandma's gospel broke morning silence.
you once held me
like a secret.
now
you just walk by.
You rapped half yourself around the world
With outrageous rhythm and rhyme
Did crime did time
Bound yourself in chains
Etched your name in fame
While your other half remained unclaimed
In a book of poetry
You wrote in quiet moments
4 no 1 else 2 c
Where now I find the depths
And gentle beauty of your soul
As every petal of your being
Now unchained unfolds
A Rose that grew from concrete
Now I breathe your fragant breath
A Man I never understood in life
Now I understand in death.
~~~~~
Written: June 9, 2010
A tribute to: Tupac Shakur
Inspired by: His book of poetry, 'The Rose that Grew From Concrete'.
About Tupac:
Tupac Amaru Shakur (June 16, 1971 – September 13, 1996), known by his stage names 2Pac (or simply Pac) and Makaveli, was an American rapper. Shakur has sold over 75 million albums worldwide, making him one of the best-selling music artists in the world.> In the United States alone he has sold 37.5 million records.
Tupac Shakur’s most intimate and honest thoughts were uncovered only after his death with The Rose That Grew From Concrete, a collection of deeply personal poetry handwritten by Tupac in his own private notebooks over the course of his life - a mirror into his enigmatic world and its many contradictions written from the time he was 19.
Harlem Globetrotters
most famous trotters
clowns of the court
and best of sport
watching the game
never the same
performers they are
they really gone far
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
of Black and poor folks?
Look it up yourself
know what is going on around you
find a cause to fight.
Use your pen and voice
raise your voice and write it down
vote a righteous cause.
Organize your block
note differences and respect
put judgement on pause.
Let’s make it better
you and I together to
help correct the flaws.
I walked through Harlem just the other day. The Harlem I knew as a child has totally gone away. I use to play hooky from school and I ran those streets at night. But now you can't even find a descent street fight. There use to be soul food joint's all over the place. But now Harlem New York has a different face. Don't get me wrong I think change is ok. But now there's other people living where I use to lay. 125th street just don't look the same. Now all the store's have different names. There use to be A.J. Lester's and the Record Shack. Now all the stores got names that are whack. Now I see an Old Navy store and a Chucky Cheese. Can someone tell me where Harlem went please. What happened to the movie theater between 7th and 8th. Now it sit's there just an empty old place. But the Apollo theater still looks good. It's always been the crown jewel of our neighborhood. And I remember when Harlem World was open night and day. But now even that spot is a damn Conway. Don't get our wrong it does look nice and pretty. But Harlem use to be it's very own city. You knew you were in Harlem when you walked down the street. Because Harlem use to have it's own heartbeat. But now we can't even afford the rents that they charge. Because everyone knows our pockets ain't that large. I'm afraid I'll go to sleep one night. And when I wake up Harlem will be all white. c. R. Mendoza
While writing about the History of Jazz Music in verse , I got the idea for composing this
fictitious poem ! I hope the readers will like it !
Harlem Blues !
Lingering perfumes float through the night air ,
Life was a drudgery for him and no one cared !
With neon lights blinking and flashing every-
where !
The jazz band in the saloon played a soft tune ,
And the lady there sang the blues and also
crooned !
Now the solitude of the night gets to him ,
As he drops down into a corner seat where lights
are rather dim !
Signals the waiter as he lights his cigar ,
And orders a large whiskey and soda , having
come down so far !
He remains enthralled by the lone singer’s
voice ,
He must spend this ‘blue night’ all alone , -
since he had no other choice !
The singer now comes pretty close to him ,
And he could see her white teeth dazzle and
gleam !
But when he looked into those dark eye lashes , -
Sad memories form the past before his eyes
flashes !
He had been a clarinet player of some renown ,
But his wife couldn’t tolerate its piping sound !
His habit of playing his pipe at mid-night hours ,
Made her to desert him for their marriage had
gone sour !
The blue notes in the saloon soon comes to an
end ,
But the music goes on simply to entertain !
The singer now invites this loner to her room ,
He accompanies - trying to forget his loneliness
and gloom !
She pours out two drinks in her upstairs room ,
And places his head gently between her bosom , -
Which makes him to swoon !
The ‘blue notes’ still plays on in his mind ,
It is then when she pulls out a clarinet form
behind !
Seeing him surprised - she laughs out loud ,
He stares at the clarinet with misgiving and doubt !
“Don’t worry darling I had met you wife ,
She had shown me your picture and told me about
your life !
From my childhood days I had loved the clarinet ,
It turns me on before I go to bed !
So play the pipe gently as I get into my slip-on ,
And we shall make love right into the morn !”
He picked up the clarinet and played ‘the blues’
so tender and so light , -
The music echoed through the lonely Harlem
night....... !
- Raj Nandy
New Delhi
In harlem was I born and raised,
With fond memories flooding my brain so solemn,
Black is proud for we believe in a divine totem,
Unity and hope our sovereign emblems,
Though notorious and violent have some folks turned out, into GOD'S hands do I
leave their problems...For he alone can solve them;
Tis good to sing this sweet anthem,
This land has taught me hard work and patience,
So if i'd have a son We’d call him Anselm,
Each day I pray GOD to take away this vision of a rowdy harem,
For I would love my wife's name to be Carmen,
A Harlem of peace and stability where we the future leaders will rename her
JERUSALEM.
Traveling down the night streets
Just to see what I would see
Look down the left by the closed Barbershop
A group of friends chatting
Collapsing the night time by chopping their jaws
Going down by that train station
A couple dancing their night away
By the street light at the corner
A graze of wind takes the wet leaves with it
A beautiful sight
Until broken by the alley across the corner
Dimming the graze by a game of dice
A fight roaring down the entire alley
A body dragged helplessly off the banks
A night mixed and tangled by people
Frances
Twas the night before Thanksgiving
An’ all through the tenement
Mama was sleeping
When Big Dady came in again
And there in the night sweet Frances lost her innocence
Hopscotch in Harlem Summer 1944
"If I don’t win this time
I aint never going to play no more.”
Mr Fortune teller
Why didn’t you tell her
One day she’d be a WHORE
The girl tol’ her Mama she’d never be poor
Papa was around
But he scorned her
Mama was always down
But she tried to warn her
Papa blamed her mother
Said she was just too lenient
The child tried her hand at working
But selling love
Was much more convenient
Cleaning toilets pays ten cents an hour
Scrubbing floors pays a quarter
My guess is that Cinderella
Wasn’t written for her
Now she’s her own selfs employer
And Now she cleans billfolds
At least it keeps her out of the cold
Dropping her dress didn’t take her to the top
She told her Mother one day she’s gonna stop
And now and then she reflects
How she misses that Harlem Hop.
ROSS
And Misses Gypsy lady
You been passin’ out bad luck lately
He wanted to be an astronaut
But now trouble holds him
And it’s your fault
Cause you should have told him
Attorney trying to get him twenty-five
The judge wants to give him eighty
Aint a tree in sight
But it still seems shady
But whatever happens
He’ll always be Sadie’s baby
Looking back with sad refrain
Ross, why you wanna bring your Mama pain?
A number replaced his name
Bought a gun to make a score
Couldn’t stand another day of being poor
So he chose to rob the corner store
Headline said: Murder at Sunny’s
He wouldn’t have killed hm
If he had jus’ given him the money
Fifty years of time to spare
A simple dream that led no where
When they passed out Blues
He got twice his share
And now he’s livin’ in shame
But what he wouldn’t give
For one more game
Of that Harlem square.
“Ross, you better stop pullin my hair.”
I saw a wolf early one morn
While traveling Harlem's street
Seemed my safety was at stake just then
As I and he stood face to face
Upon a lonely rectangular Island
Empty streets bordering
I thought it odd, his stare
It quickened heartbeats within me, as
I...not knowing...halted
At first, a mean dog I feared, stood poised
But soundlessly he paused
As though pure harmless innocence he saw just then
Or was it unspeakable hunger he felt?
Up close, his light brown features like a fox
His eyes like topaz, sunlit warm; lingered soft
And then; as if to let me pass in peace
He stood at ease, as I, a Nurse in full white, eased on.
*
The Globetrotters haven't had enough
Thrilling crowds with their magical stuff
Magic it was
Creating a buzz
A hoop at the bell was sure up to snuff
No words, oily body sweats, city summer.
Desperate to get out and never return although
stalled on Triborough Bridge I admired the skyline.
My city, my death, I did it my way.
Counting your blessings a healthy activity,
the park out my back window, a job that pays.
But I am losing strength to fight
for the world in my imagination. Acceptance of reality
makes me a fossil of society.
Basho in old age found strength to walk
deep into the mountains. He visited famous sites
up north. Po Chu-i traveled mountains in his dreams.
You can leave at any time. You can return
without being seen. A way to learn
your insignificance, freedom to have never been.
Juke joints bopping
The bands rocking
Couples dancing
Bouncers bouncing
Just another Saturday night in Harlem
Brothers dressed to thrill
Ladies looks would kill
Sweats flying
Partners screaming
Another Saturday night in Harlem
Bottles popping
Booze flowing
Food on the plate
Better hurry don't be late
It's Saturday night in Harlem
Well the nights at an end
Shake hands and kiss your lady friend
One more song, it will be my treat.
Come on baby, we'll come next week
Another Saturday night in Harlem
(c)kingpen2021
Those living in Harlem
want to live in Midtown
The people in Midtown
the Upper West Side
The Upper West Side on
the Long Island Shore
The Long Island Shore
in Aspen or Vail
Aspen or Vail
to the beaches in Cannes
The bathers in Cannes
to the Champs Elysees
People always search for where
life can begin
A place that remains distant
and far out of reach
Any excuse to look outward
and not in themselves
Theirs souls left in turmoil
—their hearts not at rest
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)