Inspirational Black African American Poems | Examples
These Inspirational Black African American poems are examples of Black African American poems about Inspirational. These are the best examples of Black African American Inspirational poems written by international poets.
OF DRIED AND TIRED SEEDS
Having failed
To turn
Our vineyard
Into a graveyard
Of raisins in sun,
They now
Seek to pluck away,
Ripe black plums
To grave the soil
With wrinkled,
Laden prunes:-
(Guess
they
failed
the
watermeleon
lesson):
Earthly green;
Blood-red flesh;
Multiple black seeds:-
Indeed, we are
Children of
The Father
Of the sun
And the Son:
Fertilized
And energized
By the
Cosmic spirit–
Resurrecting
Generations
Of dried
And tried seeds–
Germinating
Liberated
Blooming
Freedom flowers
In the sun:
Bouqueting
Thanks
To the
Son:-
TO ME AND MY PEOPLE JOURNEYING ONWARD
Journey in belief,
Knowing God’s navigation,
Ensures the journey:-
Doubt not God’s footprints;
Just keep on walking in them:
Destiny waiting:-
Look how far we’ve come;
Look how far back we started:
Still journeying on:-
Destination reached,
And it's time for some to rest,
Give God The Glory:-
Some journeys soon end;
God has been given the praise:
Rest time on the way:-
We hope love’s labors,
Have us there to greet you all:
We all…praising God:-
IN AND OF THE SOMEBODIES WE ARE
Because I am, and you are—us…we—children of God,
And brothers and sisters of His son—heirs of ancestors
Of the same mother continent as Simon of Cyrene—we are,
And will always be—in this world everyday—somebody!
Yes, we are some hell of somebodies whose Black Lives Matter.
Heirs of ancestors who survived the sardine-pack Middle Passage,
And shelf-staged auction into slavery, Jim Crow, and legal injustice:
Navigating today’s journey to complete equity, we’re indeed somebody!
TO BEING NOURISHED IN OURSTORY
Black History Month fades,
But not Ourstory:
It is eternal:-
Reflect on it all the time:
Your spirit ever nourished
May eyes and ears be open to the truth
As fragile as the fevered fledgling flies
Rejoice that better days may still be proof
That wisdom’s wily will shall curtail lies
In days of old their prejudice was clear
Now sleeps its dormant heart but still its near
Look not to history to celebrate
Under the rocks of equal lives lie cracks
The power play performed did demonstrate
How those who pull the strings avoid the racks
Earth never will be peaceful sad to say
Real battles lie in plain sight everyday
Know this, for every step that we have walked
I pledge that every promise that was talked
None shall stop and cheer our equal rights
Go farther, for our future we must fight
Lovely, happy hair,
Rowed, and growing in beauty;
God’s sweet locks I bear:-
Hued as is the night,
Moonlight beauty reflecting
Ebony delight:-
Locks admired so much,
Gardened rowed short or shouldered,
Just got to be touched.
God makes no mistakes;
Creating natured beauty,
Whatever hue takes:-
Mirror check and see,
The blooming beauty of thee,
And gracefully be:-
TO BEING ON BOARD *
I can remember when
It was blackboards,
Which have been replaced
By their whiteboards;
Loaded with selective
Brainwashing videos:
Primarily coded to entertain
Rather than educate;
Particularly, if you’ve not chosen
Teaching as a labor of love:-
When asked how could I, at 83,
Teach without a whiteboard,
I simply replied that I was
A live retired living blackboard:
Programmed by God’s divine wisdom
And guidance to continue to engage
In a labor of love—teaching and sharing
Inspirational and dedicated problem-solving
Skills to the chosen future liberators:-
Just look carefully at you and me,
Innocent victims of bigoted inequality,
In a nation physically built via bigotry,
Of the sweat, the blood, and death,
Of our ancestors fighting to be truly free,
And endowed with faithfully won equanimity:-
Know the reality of just who here, we be,
For we’re not the heirs of diabolical slaves;
But the children of free Africans of slavery:-
We’re heirs of pillaring hope of faithful braves,
Fighting to eradicate the Oppressor Syndrome,
Self killing us out of ancestral won blessed homes:-
Come tenacious muse
goddess within
as ourstory month
fades away from them:
Bid us bleed
nourishing words
rhythmically flowing
like a spring stream’s
soothing waters;
Let our pens canvas
ecstatic images
satisfying the senses
exploding into fulfillment:-
May the creative juices
likewise forever come
spewing warm wet awareness
upon calm waiting souls
seeking the glow of enlightenment;
Grant the pregnant wombs of minds
to shed more light upon the darkness
renewed minds must yet penetrate:-
As eggs hatch releasing newborns
so must the poet’s words do likewise;
come tenacious muse goddess within:
Let your cream of wisdom
once more anoint the arising truth
of the blood, thunder and lightning
of ourstory in distorted his story:-
Come tenacious muse
goddess within
Bid us bleed
nourishing words
rhythmically flowing
like a spring stream’s
soothing waters—
Let our pens canvas
ecstatic images
satisfying the senses
exploding into fulfillment
May the creative juices
likewise forever come
spewing warm wet awareness
upon calm waiting souls
seeking the glow of enlightenment
Grant the pregnant wombs of minds
to shed more light upon the darkness
renewed minds must yet penetrate
As eggs hatch releasing newborns
so must the poet’s words do likewise:
come tenacious muse goddess within
Let your cream of wisdom
once more anoint the arising truth
of the blood, thunder, and lightning
of our story in distorted his story.
I Tapped Into the Flow State
I tapped into the Flow State today
Oh, what a marvelous day.
I tapped into the Flow State today,
Step aside make way!
I tapped into the Flow State today,
Everything’s going my way.
I tapped into the Flow State today
What the did you do with your day?
You ask me how let me show you the way:
This morning began unusually so,
An idea sparked:
Be one with the snow.
Outside I wandered, the air crisp and free,
Until I met her a magnificent tree.
"Embrace me," she whispered, so gentle, so slow,
And at last, hand and branch became one in the snow.
I tapped into the Flow State what a wondrous day,
The wind didn’t push south; it led me north to stay.
Guided by whispers, by nature, by chance,
I danced with the universe in a wordless trance.
THE RACE
Their race is still on,
our ebon-race being chased;
let's keep racing:-
TO THE TASK AHEAD FOR OUR WRITERS
No one can write our story but us;
His story merely footnotes us:-
In the culture of the penned word,
We must personally ink ourstory;
Footnoting history’s keloid pains:-
In doing so, the rules must be ours
As opposed to those of anglophobia:-
In our midst, do we not have
Our own Prophets, Scribes, and Seers?
Do we not have our own worthy Griots?
Let us not write for their critics, but for ourselves,
Demonstrating mastery of the enforced language
Through which we must uniquely cipher flowing lines;
Deciphering coded lies from undeniable living truths:-
Can an indigenous fruit be a “native” of one that’s not?
EBONY WE ON THE WAY
Beating our drums
singing our songs
rhythmically
foot printing
our hued feet
with eyes
still on the prize
and the summit
brightly in sight
we be proudly
marching
in blues-jazz
liberty
faithfully assured
no sisyphus-like
rocky rolling
oppression tappings
can get us offbeat
in our sojourn
to mountain to
liberation
awaiting
the dream’s
reality
for the ebony we:-
KUUMBA
(Creative Kwanzaa Thoughts For Today)
In the tree of life,
Let creative branches teach;
Awareness well barked:-
Let your flowers bloom,
Canvassing our destiny;
Reflecting healing:-
Pain well, life’s beauty,
Blooming in God’s great glory;
Canvassing his love:-
Be that tree of god,
Branches spread wide with his love;
Green leafs with his peace:-