Proud Black African American Poems | Examples
These Proud Black African American poems are examples of Black African American poems about Proud. These are the best examples of Black African American Proud poems written by international poets.
black female warrior
(2/7/13)
She was my black female warrior and she stood proud and tall
And upon her shoulders, her silk hair did fall
A spear in one hand and an axe in the other
No one would mess with her, not even her brother.
The strength of a lion searching for prey
She would not let anything stand in her way.
She knew where she lived - it was a jungle out there
But she was strong in spirit and did not care.
She is the black warrior and as strong as can be
You will find her in the annexes of history.
Just like the movie of "BETTY AND CORETTA"
Who showed what they can do- when they stood
Up against the politicians of the RED, WHITE and BLUE.
We are still being monitored by the land, air and sea
But we'll continue the fight so that we could be free.
These two women are the black warriors who walk
Hand in hand with all oppressed people who are willing to take a stand.
I am Hispanic and we've been denied many rights
Just like any other nationality, we're all willing to fight.
It does not matter our color, religion or
Sexual preference that we may have
"ONE NATION UNDER GOD WITH LIBERTY AND JUSTICE FOR ALL"
That is FREEDOMS CALL.
© L. RAMS
The essence in us is the same as the essence of the sun
Cast to be found and displaced
stake and brave to a common bound
new to a four-point barrel of rolls
because me this search point opening
bumper speed as slow to show eternal
for they came brain to some knowledge
In inspired to college for they are acknowledged
to brave and creep lot and low in each
believe and see us fetch for they are gone
let us see your heart at our neck
so, believe a person outside but won't chief
food of support bait on the court
range to a bird that is frowned abound
girl is spins above order just and open
sidetracked or railroad tracks
walk a pound trail of Bizzle and God
rapper of obtention or complete mindless
nation wise and starting writing to best
space minds earth higher combine special gifts......
Born from the sun's ancient kiss,
A gift wrapped in golden brown bliss,
I carry the stories of ancestors proud,
Their strength echoing clear and loud.
Melanin flowing through my veins,
Like rivers of cocoa after the rains,
Each shade a testament to divine design,
From ebony deep to honey wine.
They tried to dim this sacred light,
But stars were born to shine so bright,
My skin holds wisdom, holds the grace
Of those who paved this sacred space.
The richest hues I've ever seen,
Caramel dreams and coffee streams,
All wrapped up in melanin's gleams.
This glow cannot be replicated,
This beauty will not be imitated,
For every freckle, every mark
Tells stories that light up the dark.
I am the sunrise, I am the earth,
I celebrate this blessed birth,
This melanin that makes me whole,
This radiant, unbreakable soul.
Let my skin sing its ancient song,
Of survival, of being strong,
Of beauty that cannot be denied,
This melanin glow, my source of pride.
Lord Jesus your are mankind's tree of life.
I come with a request my for my children and wife.
Please empower me and my family to follow your way,
and turn us from the path that is wrong.
The crowd seems to walk the path of rebellion,
On that road we do not belong.
Give us passion to seek and desire you words,
Help us focus on them day and night.
God help us plant deep, the roots of our tree,
By the River that is Jesus Christ!
Then we can drink of his water everyday,
From now til the end of our life.
Make us each to be, good fruit bearing trees,
That you God would be proud to display.
At night as we sleep, please whisper so we,
Will store everything that you say.
Grant us prosperity of the right kind,
Making us rich according to you.
Your riches I find, are of the heart and mind,
Lord, please do what is needed to do.
Man's system of wealth is full of corruption,
Selling their souls due to greed.
Lord I come to you, with my family,
Asking for the currency our spirits need.
There is only One through whom I can come,
In which I can lawfully claim.
Please answer this request for me and family,
That I now make in Jesus name...
Amen.
black boy Joy is not just noise
it is a voice that should be heard from word to word
like thunder in the clouds or a lion roaring in the jungle they should hear the rumble not your grumble
speak loud and proud cuz you're black will never be silenced or unbalanced
your joy is created equal just like any other people peacefully we have March for years
and shed it many tears endured whips and chains through all of the pain
we manage the gain knowledge of self worth when we insured our Legacy and Scholars
they try to hold his back but now we got a fist full of dollars
they tried to destroy our forefathers now look at us where doctors lawyers judges and even made it to the White House
showing that anything is possible if you believe that you can achieve greatness in this world
black boy Joy is not just noise
A black girl lost in the world,
Feeling like she doesn't belong,
Her skin is a shade that stands out,
In a society that tells her she's wrong.
She walks the streets with a heavy heart,
Feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders,
Searching for a place where she fits in,
But constantly feeling like she's an outsider.
Her hair, her dance, her spirit so free,
A reflection of her rich history,
But in a world that tries to erase her past, S
he struggles to find her identity.
She's told to straighten her hair,
To lighten her skin, to blend in,
But she knows she's beautiful as she is,
And refuses to let society win.
She's strong,
She's resilient,
She's proud,
She knows her worth,
Her power, Her truth,
And though the world may try to break her,
She knows her spirit will always shine through.
So she walks with her head held high,
A warrior in a world that seeks to tear her down,
And though she may be lost at times,
She knows she'll always be found.
For she is a black girl,
Strong and true,
A force to be reckoned with,
Alight in the dark,
And though the world may try to dim her shine,
She will always leave her mark.
When I am grown and full of things
May I be known as a beautiful queen
Just like you are so politically proud
Love spirited heart beneath cocoa breast of brown
That nurses faithful joy
Blessing someone every day
Giving praise to the Lord
Rocking babies baking cakes
May I give as much and live as well
Earn your tender touch
Of prophecy time will tell
And for many moons
Can my children maze
How natural beauty blooms
So true it never fades
May I live as to honor you
Mother may I be like you
In shadows cast by Western might,
The System whispers, a colonial blight.
1. Shatter morals, a cultural fray,
where heritage falters, lost in dismay.
Reduced to echoes of a proud past,
souls adrift, in shadows cast.
2. Weaken currencies, neocolonial schemes,
a puppet dance where exploitation teems.
Devalue the coin, a silent decree,
as resources bleed from land to sea.
3. Stir security's storm, a tempest untamed,
colonial legacy, a history named.
With every tremor, a puppetry play,
strings pulled tight in the Western way.
The System laughs, a cold, hollow sound,
A puppeteer unseen, wearing a colonial crown.
In the dance of shadows, where control is spun,
A narrative of power, yet to be undone.
As I walk through this unknown world
With a heavy heart and an anxious soul,
All I can think of is my family
For they are the only ones true to me,
The lives of my brothers and sisters painfully unfold
Oh, how their stories had gone untold,
Though their voices were blare
They were still shackled down in despair
The soaring sparrows remind me of my wise old man
Who had once taught me to be brave
Now has warned me to stay out of storm's way.
And oh my dearest mother who has suffered the most
She's lost a child but hasn't lost hope.
I hear her pleads every night
Her tears are of pain and her wishes ask for rights.
‘God has a plan for all’ she still believes in this philosophy
One day I will make them proud
Even if it means the end of me.
And when we come to talk about me
I'll use those same words on repeat
For I am the same as my family.
Family, you may consider the ties of blood
But for me, they are the ones who share the same stars,
Pitifully now the day has come to an end
I smile as I look upon the path I came
It's half to my goal, to make this world our home.
If Grannie could speak to you today,
This is what she'd want to say…..
“My Dear, Dear Grands, I love you so.
But Father said, “It’s time to go.”
My Dear, Dear Grands, do not feel sad.
My soul is with Jesus. Rejoicing, glad.
Listen to your elders and grow up right.
Choose the goodness of God…. Seek to live in the Light.
Be strong. Have courage……proud black women, and men,
smiling on our memories….. now and then.
My Dear, Dear Grands, my love is still near.
Have peace in your hearts for I rest in God’s care.”
5/4/2023
A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE no 1215'
In the face of prejudice and pain,
He stands tall, with head held high,
A symbol of strength and resilience,
A black man, proud and dignified.
He bears the weight of history,
The chains of oppression and slavery,
Yet still he rises, unbroken,
His spirit burning bright and free.
He is a son, a brother, a father,
A friend to those who know his worth,
With a heart that beats with passion,
And a soul that's pure as the earth.
His skin is dark as midnight,
But his spirit shines like the sun,
A testament to his perseverance,
And the battles he has won.
He is a warrior, a hero,
A man of grace and power,
And though the road ahead may be long,
He will never falter or cower.
For he knows that in his heart,
There beats a strength that's true,
A force that cannot be broken,
A spirit that will always renew.
So let us honor this black man,
And all that he represents,
For he is a beacon of hope,
And a symbol of our common descent.
Betrayed and backstabbed
By our African brothers.
Insulted, humiliated and robbed
By Our European brothers.
We are the descendants
Of defeated Kings and Queens.
We are the infants
Of two distressed twins.
Sold like cattles,
Winners of many battles:
We are the new generation,
We are the fine products
Of a new creation.
We walk proud like ducks
Of the newly man-made lakes,
We helped and we chased away the fakes:
We are the dreams of our forefathers.
We are, at last, speaking in unison,
Like cousins, like brothers and sisters;
Every day, we are forging new union.
We are stronger than ever,
We are smarter than the dead fish of the river:
We are the new generation.
We are building new bridges,
The world is our nation.
We are building new stages,
While fighting and defeating the old aristocracy.
This is indeed our century:
We are the novel generation.
Copyright © June 2020, Hébert Logerie, all rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
When you give insightful thought,
You can only be as you ought;
God has created you as you are:
Another creation of absolute awe!
So, do not be depressed or distressed;
For, you’re one of the Creator’s best.
Just know that being tested with stress,
Makes you no more or less than the rest;
Thus, be all that beautiful being blessed
To be—being here for all others to see;
That the creator never made any of us less
To be the treasured beauty we ought to be.
God has given your proud mommy to you
And she has given all of you to all of us:-
Be that loving gift of your blessed beautiful hue,
Rather than a foggy mirror image covered in dust.
You are powerful, I see it in your walk, puissance;
proud and strong as the mighty oak.
Your words speak with the strength of our people;
your shoulders hold their plight.
You have never waivered steady, steadfast;
your strong feet which walked the uneven paths;
facing pain, knowing that you will overcome.
They whisper softly; be strong, be prideful; we are with you;
every step you take; we are with you, never looking back;
only remembering, yet, learning from the past.
The sapphire iris blinks
the long blonde lashes meet
against the milky white skin
the hair made up into blonde curls
her frock with frills
clearly marking the standards
Her bottom against the cold, hard floor of the
little plastic box
Her lips pink and her rosy cheeks
with the proud smile stamped against.
"I pick her!"
Those words accustomed to her ears
come as no surprise
and she looks beyond and below
over the separating line
and give yet another smirk to the trivial
yet again, the proud one!
The chocolate brown iris blinks
the long black lashes meet
against the dim light fall
the hair down into beautiful curls
her head carrying an invisible crown
Her bottom against the cold hard table
lined with dust after so many weeks, maybe years
her hands sore and numb, confined within
her eyes glazy as she looks through
the tears, through the box.
In came the humble being
with a playful smile on her face
with the white little paper wings
and the gait of a future queen.
"I pick her!"
Her finger towards the dim light fall
the beauty picked up from the line of dust
The young soul kisses
"Oh, you to kiss me,
my black beauty!"