Life Black African American Poems | Examples
These Life Black African American poems are examples of Black African American poems about Life. These are the best examples of Black African American Life poems written by international poets.
the devil swings
with the pain Billie brings
to the song of a sparrow, once lost
but heaven cries
with the drug in her eyes
and the weep of a willow's sad cost
the awed repute
of a tree's strangest fruit
never gave up its dead or it's moss
one mother's urn
sifted ash from the burn
of a tragedy's southern-most cross
shall only years
dry that muddle of tears
the torrent drowning races and sin
or will the truth
age a sweeter vermouth
let as blood on a much darker skin?
weep collected
for life, disrespected
would deluge all Jehovah's dear streams
yet not one wonder
that God's loudest thunder
will ne’er quiet that riot …
of screams.
~ for Billie Holiday ~
Copyright © 2020 Gregory Richard Barden
( photographic art created copyright-free by the poet with GALA AI software )
we came up same building,
same busted elevator, same rumors in the walls —
three girls stacked on top of each other
like secrets whispered through radiator pipes.
6S - she’s half rican, half black,
but don’t call her half - she all attitude,
dark skin glowing when she laughs too loud,
hips slick like she dancing with nobody’s permission.
5E - 5’1 and built like a threat,
she got a stare that’ll stop you mid-lie.
she hate surprises, so we never sneak up -
she come knocking first if you do her wrong.
then me - 7N, freckles spread like stars on light skin,
red-brown hair tied up, book in my lap,
content to stay inside while they chase block heat.
they pull me out anyway - stoop nights, corner gossip,
big dreams that don’t always fit our pockets.
we so different it make no sense -
three girls shaped like soft rebellion,
like hard lessons, like love
that never needed no permission slip.
puberty tried to twist us up,
boys tried to break us open,
life threw her worst
and we just leaned closer -
me, yaphia, tarita - same building girls,
same busted elevator,
still going up.
“Forward Ever...Backwards…Never!?!”
With all
The progress
We made, how
Is it that we’re
Back to where
We once were
With oppression?
Did we become
So comfortable
That we failed
To see what
Was coming
To push us
Back and make America great again?!
How could we have simply missed
The vivid message of Stockholm,
Which, for us, here today, is now
A USA, Oppressor Syndrome?!
We belong and carry
Historic love is buried
In black genes so strong
They ring like holy song
The curl of your hair
Onyx Pearl your eyes
Heavy hips bring stare
Licorice lips defy lies
We create from scraps
Food homes poems raps
Take nothing make something
All despite devilish traps
We fall yet we ruby rose
So all could experience hope
And amethyst amazing growth
We dreamt and made it so
You silver star are the pride
Of hearts love inherited tribe
The sun kisses your skin
Ancestors kiss given by wind
Destined and designed to rise
Be inspired be ready to fly
God gives you truth not lies
Walk your path live your life
A black child knows the song of heavy trains,
as clanging engines brought my father home.
His weary, sweaty, fat thighs bearing strain,
from cooking pots of food for those well-known.
We felt the forceful song of heavy trains,
not rails or trams that ride below the street.
A move that in your gut of gut does reign,
black power that comes up beneath your feet.
Our past has known the song of steel on steel
as trains have carried tired heads held high.
When we approached we heard the air brakes squeal,
and at that sound we thought our hopes were nigh.
We've listened for the song of trains for years.
Their mournful horns just croon a memory,
and often resurrect the blues of tears,
or flash across the mind as reverie.
For many years we've sang the sad refrain,
with strength and power striving in the soul.
This melody of freedom laced with pain.
The weight of all life's longings taking toll.
Oh, sing a song of praise for those who bare
the weight of heavy trains within our past,
a rocking to and 'fro' from here to there,
maintaining in our spirits WILL to last.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, my blessed little Sister!
When we were young, Papa always called
You “Black Patti”! Now we know why:
A Senryu Quintet Tribute To “Black Patti (1868-1933): **
For My Sister, Sula “Black Patti” Baye (08/25/1943)
Water gives rivers life
I swanee, “Black Patti” gave
Life to the songs she sang:-
“Black Patti” felt that
Singing songs was to her, as
Sunshine to flowers:-
When “Black Patti” sang,
Flowers flooded world stages:
Concert Halls, sold out!
She was Mitilda
Sissieretta Jones: singing
Abolitionist!
Black Patti, rather
Than Adelina Patti, was
Their Era’s Greatest!
**When others sit down and do oursrorical research,
They will know why Papa gave you that honor. Go
And enjoy another blessed year, perpendicular to
Earth and Heaven. To God Be The Glory. In the
Onederful oneness of the onement of Extended
Family, Peace And Love, your favorite Brother,
Deac.
I once contemplated suicide,
But only if I couldn’t have you by my side,
Reading my eulogy, shedding a few tears is nothing compared to the endless ocean before my eyes, we are given this one life,
Lord will you accept my apology before I do the deed?
Will you embrace me the way I’ve left the world you’ve created for me?
will anyone miss me?
Dark blue seas I cry, if only I could fly.
These thoughts flow through my brain for lack of love, for grief, for me to escape.
Am I insane or somehow conforming to this world full of Hate.
But WAIT will this anxiety and anger be my FATE?
The chambers of my heart so empty and cold with knowledge comes understanding. This is getting old.
To let the devil win. I would never. Jesus please help me before I take this endeavor.
Forgive me now.
At your feet I bow.
I give it all to you
Because I know my promise is in You.
To have your picture on the face of a stamp,
Is a honor reserved for the ones who cultivated change
Among the mèlange of inspiring faces,
Lays the face of someone who served on the basis,
Of freedom
Behind a small black and white picture,
A mighty face lays
With eyes of a fighter,
eloquent hair, neatly parted
The words,
Black white
Trust danger
Defiance hope
All line the bottom
Words of hope, words of courage
That picture is of a strong willed soul
Oh what a wonderful life, one bloke stole
Late at night, she deployed her clandestine runaway
With peers, she warily walked, not knowing where she was destined
Little did she know,
She would make this trip many times again, not knowing what each bestowed
Harsh winter nights, where the breeze grew as cold as coal,
She walked, walked and walked
Till’ days grew into the lines of a bole
She is a freedom fighter
She is a activist
She is a mother
She is a motivator
She is Harriet Tubman
Usps Stamps Poetry Contest - 07/04/25
Sponsor: Robert James Liguori
They reside on the other side.
They bathe in fertility.
They own yard-keepers and servants;
Dogs, cats and charming plants.
They breathe the camphorated air like us,
Swallow the transparent dust,
Cross over and fall in the muddy rivers
Like our siblings living under the tiny tents.
They reside on the other side of town,
Over the mountains.
They bathe in tranquil fertility
Of the country-side.
They ignore that we are the same
And that we experience daily the same dilemmas.
One day, them and us, all of us will answer
Present deep in the river, under the karmic bridge.
P.S. This poem was originally written during my college years. Nelson Mandela was still illegally and wrongfully jailed, spending (wasting) 27 years of his heroic and precious life unjustly incarcerated. Mr. Nelson Mandela and my African brothers and sisters are the sources of my inspiration.
Copyright © circa May 1984 Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
LIGHT OF MY LIFE
(Apropos Of My Queen's 81st Birthday)
You light up my life;
My sunshine and its moonlight:
All darkness dispelled:-
Storms are troubles that are a part of your life.
They pass through from nowhere, in their wake is strife..
Pain and suffering may result and sometimes loss.
There is coverage left for you, at the foot of the Cross.
Nothing to put down, Someone already paid your cost.
We'll find peace & comfort where suffering took place.
A plan from God for the whole human race.
In your vehicle of thought, make it the first place to go.
The Underwriter name is God, in case you didn't know.
It is where where Jesus signed the contract for me.
Written in His Blood. The address Calgary.
From there God's angel messengers reach out to you.
Where sin-dead spirits arrive and leave renewed.
Coverage is given to all, no soul turned away.
Through Christ God guarantees coverage everyday!
To sign sign on the line, lay down your pride.
Admit you are wrong so Christ in you may abide.
It's a policy for life, nothing else needed to do.
Because Jesus, our agent has done all for you.
God activates it "IMMEDIATELY" to cover all strife.
He's like "Our Good Neighbor!" for all storms of our lives.
When you don't know what to do.
Open this and it will speak to you!
Don't listen to a Religious man.
Get a translation you can understand.
In Luke's book 24:45 you will find.
Jesus had to open the Disciples minds!
Without God, you won't understand.
This book is His spiritual rescue plan.
We're born spiritually dead, alive in flesh.
About God and this life, we can only guess.
Hearing, seeing, smelling, touch and taste.
Yet spiritually blind, the whole human race.
In a physical plane that is finite too.
But an infinite spiritual world is all around you.
Jesus said he came to give sight to the blind.
He's called "The Word!" cause he'll open our mind.
Just pick this book up at least 30 minutes a day.
"Open my mind and heart!" is what you should pray!
Suddenly the plain words on the pages come alive.
And your spirit within begins to thrive!
You'll see things are deeper than they appear to be.
Because God will show you what the "Doubting World can't see.
Our minds are blinded due to our sins.
Just repent, ask God for help and they'll reopen again!
Wondering worlds look back, and validates the earth's self-esteem
Visually realizing that people are traumatized, wondering what happened to their dreams.
Because there minds, which constitute for lost time, and people who's sitting around, trying to make a sound
Perplexing to an idea while wondering if the earth is flat or round.
Thinking that the frequency is going to stand still
But it vibrates your body and formulates your mind with a visual sex appeal.
But we continue to create and lose faith because common sense is becoming to eminent
Were everybody wants money, looking to lust, and it's not making any sense.
So we give the world back its power, and then lose an hour that becomes the darkness in your mind
Causing the sun not to shine, while you're stuck in a box with lost time.
You can’t grasp liberation
With butterfinger hands;
Rather, you must grasp her
With an iron-fist grip;
Clasping her here forever:-
Thus, let us get to being about
Fulfilling and sealing our liberation,
Rather than just rapping about it:-
Rember, liberation is not given,
It is faithfully fought for and won:-
And the best part of the fight is,
It's not with those weapons given us
To freely eradicate ourselves with;
Rather, it’s with the political power weapon
That so many fought and died for us to win
And have, in securing our political liberation:-
Pity, we’re not on their endangered species list;
Just the list of who should be least cared about:-
They fight for red wolves,
but still erode ebon lives;
we’re endangered too:-
What an abomination,
In our nation,
In today’s situation:-
For our lives to matter,
Time for us to gather,
And get it all together:
Pandemic is the Oppressor Syndrome;
We, oppressively murdering our own:-
Let us be aware,
We’ve come too far
To turn back now:
Our immunity is waiting:-
Our ancestors’ labor,
Built this found nation;
This is our home to save
And make it a land of equality,
For others treated like you & me:-