Best Nappy Poems
Paint me with your purple passion
Give me a red reasons to ration
My soul food hot and old fashioned
Melting like butter won’t be lasting
In my heart love isn’t lacking
Let lips spark body thrashing
True love is art no one acting
Sending to stars like ship casting
Despite dark emotions blasting
Somber days replaced so happy
Peach pray to be lavender laughing
Seen and esteemed Nubian nappy
Turquoise times accepted gladly
Mahogany mind fermented madly
Brain farts produce art so sappy
Your love I trust not fasting
My dark skin is beautiful
My nappy hair is styled with care
That is my view of natural features
Blessed I am, to share
Time travel to another place
Kings and queens have a similar face
So why I am forced to face degrading images
skin-bleached relatives and mind-shackled people
who think that their dark skin, nappy hair
is something to be traded
that it is jaded
Confused thoughts
Lead people to self hatred
not only for themselves
but for anyone wearing the darkening pigment
And why the confusion?
Because we of dark complexion
and finely curled hair
must be daft, be fool
be anything but intellectual and schooled
Don't you see how we have been fooled?..
Take a look
Look deep in the mirror
See what you uncover
Beneath bewildered stares at your hair
Turnt up noses at your clothes
Beneath all the physical woes
See the King, the Queen
ready, waiting to claim the throne
Hair brain glob pores;
Scape congested cog webs spores;
Covered chrome top
Afro?
4/5/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2021
Little black boy and little black girl wear your natural hair with love.
For years we have been told that our natural hair was kinky, nappy,
bad, and ugly but the truth is our natural hair is strong and beautiful.
Little black boy and little black girl wear your natural hair with love
wear your lion's mane and let the world hear you roar.
For years we have been told our natural hair was kinky, nappy, bad, and ugly
but the truth is our natural hair is strong and beautiful.
Written by Keith Edward Baucum
Little black boy and black girl wear your natural hair with love
For years we have been told that our natural hair was kinky, nappy, bad, and ugly
But the truth is our natural hair is strong and beautiful
Little black boy and black girl wear your natural hair with love
Wear your lion's mane and let the world hear you roar
For years we have been told that our natural hair was kinky, nappy, bad, and ugly
But the truth is our natural hair is strong and beautiful.
Written by Keith Edward Baucum
Nappy time is fast approaching, hit my head on the keyboard
That should be a pretty good sign it's perhaps time to snore
When we reach a hundred
Just stay all day in bed
Waste of time getting up and cranking up the old Ford
You use to make my blue heart sing
And then I woke up from that dream
Was it really you that I denim desire
Or licorice liquid lust to put out fire
The closer I get to God I seem to stray
Away from your heart every single day
I don’t feel remorse I feel the path
Opens up more perfecting me as craft
You call and I answer sometimes true
But words I say don’t pink phase you
I’ve changed my mind I need to find
More than fondness in love so Devine
We’re friends it seems with no benefits
I know you’re not close enough to kiss
But it’s been a great test I confess none finer
Than distance of LA and Carolina
There is a season in we were close
But my mind changed as well as goals
I just don’t feel we are forever a thing
I follow my heart without wedding ring
A sleepy day upon the couch:
while little Vivi takes a nap,
I, too, will catch a little rest.
I hope she doesn’t wake a grouch,
or with a diaper that is slap
full of a word you may have guessed.
—————
A sestet, iambic tetrameter with abcabc rhyme scheme.
WAITING FOR DEATH
How tedious it is waiting for Death
When She is still dressing up
To sit in a quagmire of silent prayer
While sandwiches turn dry
How tedious when a nappy
Must still be changed
As Forgiveness waits for a touch
And a mantra hangs like a noose
How tedious when the chain thins
But do not break
Links either clogged or rusty
Clock hands not moving a second
Then a message is written and
Read twenty times
Her mascara brush picked up hurriedly
Death did not even knock
‘Nappy’
They call my curls a mystery,
An enigma to unwrap -
They feel the need to touch,
Then laugh when I get mad
They call it a crime scene -
‘How nobody could love that’
They call her wild and untamed,
My hair is not to be shamed
They treat my hair like a game -
‘Guess what hairstyle she has today’
They question the growth,
As if it’s one size only -
A black girls hair created the word diversity
The intricate pattern of curls,
How we are not restricted to one pattern
My hair is not an exhibition,
It’s not for your eyes to consume
My hair may be art,
But just like the mona lisa -
Touching is not allowed