Black Love Poems | Examples of Black Love Poetry

It's a ghost she screamed Then she fainted But no darling It was the spirit she drank She's so high Hennessy to be precise Her vision was blurry. Now she's unconscious Right in my bedroom She drank to stupor The DJ overwhelmed her I have no clue, what to do I've poured her water But she wants a kiss She said; my kisses is the water of...

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?Black soil 'n' seeds ?Black waters ?Black axe ?Black trees ?All grew the girl into a woman ? ?Black house ?Black home ?Black hue ?Black terrain ?All grew the boy into a man ? ?Black weather ?Black wind ?Black storm ?Black war ?All grew the feeble into a strong one ? ?Black strips black ?Black bruises black ?Black vies against black ?Black beats black black 'n' blue ?All makes the good to snap ? ?Black is beautiful ?Black is not...

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Every time I try to make things right, Something breaks or slips from sight. I hold on tight, but still it’s gone — Just like the end of a breakup song. Deadlines chase me through the night, Redemption’s path fades out of light. I try to lift the weight I bear, But it gets heavier in the midnight air. I hope one day...

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Reciprocated. Unrequited love, the feeling I’ve felt every time I fall for an individual. It’s a feeling that stays hidden at first but slowly becomes a reality, a reality that the love you are giving isn’t being reciprocated back to you . It’s like a one-sided echo in the halls of my heart, a silent song sung...

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One night stand by Adejola Joseph One night stand Your breast is like the firmness of a ripened apple Beautiful to the core You are a diamond One night stand. Give me one night stand I can't wait Hoping for a brace One night stand I ask Because you are all I need in a woman One night stand....

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Deep down she was a hopeless romantic Masked with hate because she thought she couldn't have it After all she was a black woman When she asked the world for love it laughed at her It's why she gave up, a story so tragic Growing up in a world where white was the beauty standard And being black was...

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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...

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She laughs like an unfinished song— all melody, no return. Wears lipstick like armor and kindness like a borrowed coat two sizes too large. She collects cracked mirrors not to look at herself— but to see how many versions can survive the breaking. She tells me she’s fine with eyes that scream in Morse code. Once, I caught her staring at a calendar that never turned. She whispered, “I think...

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To win her whole heart was my sole goal, In summer, I tanned just for her soul. I sunbathed at Lagos Beach, A Black there to woo a peach, My face is now blacker than charcoal....

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Waiting for the whole night to see his first sight Hearts were beating It sounds like lighting He's my everything...

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Loyal, docile, obedient dog Why did you leave me all alone? Now I'm a sheep with red wool, And maybe it's your fault. Fumbling sheep calls your name in the dark, Not the one beside you. Only the sheep with red wool Wants to be there with you. ...

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You imagine them whispering in your ears Through the screen of your computer You forced me to listen to your heart Quick and irregular I'm afraid to uncover my ears To hear the beating of your heart I hope it never stops Otherwise mine starts...

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How much spit do you have to wipe off your face? How many thorns do you have to remove after every curse we attach to your name? How many times do we have to bury you, and you come back with more grace and love? Every praise we give you feels like a blade piercing...

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This motion is remembered with feelings of pain, strife and anguish, But why don’t we recall the beauty in which we now relish. The movement of ‘Black lives matter’ is as...

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I scrubbed the shame from under my fingernails, as if guilt could be washed like dirt. Cold showers never baptized the ache; just gave it discipline, a neat little collar for the beast inside. They called me godly. I stood on pulpits of silence, hiding my hard truths in folded hands and stitched lips. “Virtue,” I said once, like it was a sword I...

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