Slavery Black African American Poems | Examples

These Slavery Black African American poems are examples of Black African American poems about Slavery. These are the best examples of Black African American Slavery poems written by international poets.


Premium MemberOF WE AND THEY: EVEN OF US AND THEM

OF WE AND THEY/EVEN US AND THEM!    *

In the beginning
We were the architects
Of God’s designed world;
Then came them—
The devastating forces
Of its Garden Of Eden 
Decline:- 

We were the flowers
And fruits of the Garden;
Then they became
The slithering and coiling
Slime of disobedience
And disrespect:-

We were chosen 
To teach cross bearing
With the Bearer thereof;
Then they—save Mark—
Tried to leave out 
Our Simon Of Cyrene hue:-

As you read, my children,
Listen to these 83+ years
Old screaming words:
We must know that ourstory here,
Did not begin with their slavery!
They’re just lyingly implicated this,
In their fecal canvassing 
Of their diuretic history:-

While we remain
The crucified oppressed,
And they, the crucifiers,
Realize our Ancestors
Ensured that we would be
Today’s resurrected ones;
Overcoming and ascending,
Memorial total liberation:-

Thus, it be between them 
And us, in waning oppression
And waxing liberation; 
We ascending the mountaintop,
Not as children of Sisyphus,
But, the ebony-hued of the Liberator:-


The hypocrisy of democracy

They called it progress
But the last time I checked
Progress can't exist without justice
Especially when we still can't breathe even in the afterlife
But we will always scream
No justice, no peace
We can't be silenced
Even if we have to use violence

You see the politicians using our graves
To boost their campaigns
'Forgetting' to mention our names
Then Simultaneously putting the blame
On us to reclaim
The narrative that we brought it on ourselves and say what a shame
All part of their sick and twisted games

Their fake sympathy
Is their way of being absolved from accountability
So they don't have to give an apology
But now they can create an anti black policy
For a country built off of slavery
Can't you see the irony

America claims its a democracy
A place where they claim you get treated equally
But really it's a place full of hypocrisy
Where democracy is for white people only

Heads Up!

Roaring African Diamond, Rolling Thunder, Beloved Warrior—

Cotton’s Violent Cr-owner craving Tougher, Blacker Pickers

praying Brother, Sisters, Mothers, Fathers couldn’t recover

Delight, Comfort, Dignity, Respect, Fortune, Majesty… covered

Blinded Visions, Inhuman Vitriol flowing through Uncivil

Society. Grander Savages casting Shallow Shadows; Ignoble

Secrets. Darkest Templar, Limited Freedom belongs Nowhere.

Premium MemberABORTED REALITY

Stolen and re-rooted here,
We can no longer be as 
Their virgin forest—
Raped and impregnated
By heirs of  their slavery,
And rechained with infertile
Emancipation ejaculations:-

With this climax,
Need I seek to excrete
Anymore aborted reality?

Premium MemberYOU, ME, US

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:-


Premium MemberRhythm and Blues

They want our rhythm but not our blues
They envy our natural melanin yet tan too
We wear our style and they call it hood
They copy it now and say it’s all good

They want to erase our heroes and heroines 
Because there’s a power in the skin we’re in
King, Tubman, Malcom X, Garvey and more are
Past heroes guiding future black American stars

They say it’s DEI and continue to denim deny
Racist goals and faulty souls as the reason why 
Black is resilient beautiful and brilliant so true
You enslaved raped murdered hate, we don’t need you

Premium MemberOn Slavery

History is no mystery 
Unless you were born
A descendant of scorned
African tradesmen and tradeswomen 
Stolen from their lives
Of husband wives
Children and wise old ones
Whose brown skin kissed by sun

We lived with the lies
In the shadow of cries
To get over it let it die
The nerve of you guys
No one says get over the Holocaust 
For us sympathy and empathy is lost
Still we will live with forever chained 
To ancestors genetically despite vain

Attempt to erase their worth
Denounce their struggle 
To even pray their own way
For you drug them to church
To read bibles that glorified you
Tribalism prohibited and refused 
To Allah God you must explain your “truth”

Freedom

Freedom

We thought we were free
Born that way we were told.
Free from being beat, bought, borrowed, and sold.
We thought we were free
To think and be anything we can.
Freedom was different for us the black man.
We thought we were free
From hangings, slavery, and working the fields.
We don't pick cotton, tobacco,  or crops to pay bills.
We thought we were free
We work for minimum $3 dollars the wage.
Called boy and , but we control our rage.
We thought we were free
Equal that's what we said
MLK must have bumped his head.
We thought we were free 
Free at last! We praise that speech.
Having no idea of the truth.
We only know what they teach.

-Bisonlion
© Bison Lion  Create an image from this poem.

Premium MemberBorn From This

Who were these people?
Those who committed such casual cruelty?
It wasn't a minority either but the majority. 
There are too many accounts of pain and sorrow to be otherwise. 
Was man another species altogether then?
Without empathy, lacking basic human compassion. 
I listen to the wind howl from ago, 
watch it vomit the times past, our past, making my bowels grow hot and liquid. A sickness in my belly and in my bones. 
Born from this! Born from this. 
Change is too slow. It could have been me, I think with dread, with disbelief. Never! I think. 
That hatred or even apathy was on most tongues, in most hearts.
I imagine my hand tight around a whip, the metallic taste of chains in sweaty palms, the rough calloused hands that work a rope.
I imagine ripping a child from a mothers breast, denying him food, denying them all humanity. 
The anger and betrayal I feel for those who lived off the sweat and pain of others is overwhelming. 
Could I have done such loathsome acts?
Remove the top layer of soil, of earth, dig down to yesterday…am I there?
Who were they, these beasts who prey on the weak and downtrodden?
Were they you? 
Were they me?

Thank You God

In the midst of Slavery
We survived

In the midst of Segregration
We survived

In the midst of Genocide
We will survive

Thank You God

Premium MemberLet's Break All The Chains

Let's sever all the chains
Through all types of pains
In order to get there
Let's take the trains
In order to get there
We must fight for our rights
We are not afraid to turn days
Into wonderful and starry nights
In order to enjoy better journeys.

Let's break all the chains
Together
Through various unbearable pains
Let's take the trains
Together
In order to reach the mountaintop
Ladies and gentlemen, this is no small trap
We are determined to get there
It is the right thing to do on this sphere.

Let's cut the odious chains
Amidst all plethora of pains
With all our might
Let's take the speedy trains
In the middle of the fight
We will turn nights into days
In order to enjoy better journeys
The struggle is a very long one
This is a battle that we will win.

Copyright © May 2021, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.

Chains

Wearing bonds invisible
Yet indestructible.

Find them.
Free them.
Bring them home.

Traffick, pimp, and whore,
And some are just next door.

Find them.
Free them.
Bring them home.

Some talk of peculiar institutions,
Others speak of restitutions.

Find them.
Free them.
Bring them home.

Slavery is alive and well today,
No matter what you say.

Find them.
Free them.
Bring them home.

QUESTION FOR A SLAVE

Do you want to go to Heaven

Do I have to Work

No

Yes I want to go to 

Heaven

Thank you,

LORD

Acknowledge Our Presence

the strength of Black folks can be encapsulated
by the power in the message we convey
for we are purposeful bold Black kings & queens
forging our own way
acknowledge our presence
as we stand in all our glory
recognize our dignity, our pride
our heritage, our story

we are significant human beings
deserving of civility & respect
multi-talented & proficient
in every aspect
we assert our rights to determine & control
our own destinies
and have jurisdiction over our families
and our communities

the power in Black people can be summarized
by the fortitude we've continuously display
from the Middle Passage beyond slavery
to the systemic racism still in play
our pertinacity our tenacity
and our steadfast aptitude
gave us the toughness of spirit to endure
society's hateful attitude

the resilience of the power in the Black community
can be epitomized by our faith in Christ
as it was His mercy & grace which afforded us
the moral strength to never give up on life
acknowledge our presence
acquiesce to our magnificence
as we will no longer tolerate
hate not indifference

acknowledge our presence

Premium MemberI Will Always Be a Seed

My calloused black skin got shoved in the soil by a white mans soiled thumb
Trying to make his mortgage off me

Buried
I found friends 
Barely breathing

But we sang. One friend was named Hosanna. 

We gathered ourselves together in song. 

Mother Earth appeared in the darkness. 

She pushed us together, further, until our sprouting threads joined hands in prayer singing,”Hosanna in the highest.”

And the farmer prayed while he and his children tamped us down in the dark wet black soil. 

But the choir was loud that day. 
Singing, “hail thee festival day”
And as we grouped, my new friends found the ground and the sun 

And bloomed a watermelon 
That plopped itself, all greened up,
Onto the farmers knees. 

And he hugged all of us. 
The green, the red, the white, and 
The black. 

Later, there was a picnic and the farmer kissed his wife. 

And she spit me out back onto the soil. 
I will always be a seed.

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