Dark Skinned Poems | Examples

Spring arrived

With spring,
Yaoshang Festival arrived,
In the festive mood,
youngsters rejoiced
in joyous moments.
The atmosphere was filled
with laughter .

From an ajar window
a dark skinned maid watched,
her heart itching,
as the girls laughed .

This Ravel Music

This Ravel Music

this ravel music
reminds me of old delicious nights
spent with dark- skinned linda 
of canobie street 
she was my night girl 
my morning girl too 
wearing lilac madness
a pursed smile shooting darts 
projected by a fiery tongue 
speaking words of onslaught and reprieve 
of momentous embraces from behind 
a bending dilapidated garage 
she is digging deep
lassoing in 
my incipient soul 
masticating with a gooey tongue
this ravel music
reminds me of damp mornings
spent with dark-skinned linda
of canobie street

Black Apollo

People watch figure
Attracts everyone
Motivate body care
Sculpting soul capture.

Black is beautiful
Chocolatey smooth
Healthy, sporty
Pure esthetic.

Dark-skinned Apollo
Living sculpture
Women daydream
Elders forgotten thoughts.

One in a million

Women are many in the world
Over billions and billions
Dark skinned and light skinned
Beautiful and ugly
Tall and short
Rich and poor
Young and old
But you are one in a million.

I have travelled to all continents
But I have seen none like you
I have gone to Asia
I have gone to Africa all over
I have gone to Europe
I have gone to all continents,
But I have found none like you.

The love you give me
The peace I feel when with you
The care you show m
The promises you always promise me
Possible and impossible
Can take me for the rest of my life
Because you are one of a kind
One in a million.

MY BEAUTIFIER

He doesn’t look at my past,
He doesn’t look at my wealth status
He doesn’t look at my sinful nature
He doesn’t look at my family background.
He looks at my heart.

I know I am a sinner
I have sinned in words and actions
But I am contented because he says,
He forgives my sins

There is no time that I prayed to him
And he failed to turn up
Whatever I ask him he offers to me.
And in time.

He loves me regardless colour,
Light skinned or dark skinned
He loves me regardless of height,
Tall or short.
But above all
God the beautifier,
Beautifies me and you.

Screw O'Clock News

(Tucker’s Wet Dream!)

It seems ‘twenty-four/seven’ Republicans choose
to subject us, our nation to “Screw O’Clock News”
as if Truth’s all that exits their Trinity holes!
What they say is pure gold! You have doubts? Check the polls
that Fox scripts and then pays for (though fools do resist
who are closer to monkeys - most dark-skinned!) Sun-kissed
to pick cotton, from day’s dawn till dusk (if poor’s genes
chafe a bit, most are blessed by such labor). It means
they’ve served ‘Light’ (in a way!) For a ‘Darkie’ it’s play!

Yes, Tuck Carlson “hates” Trump (In his soul! Gosh! Who knew?)
though he puckers right up when Trump’s rump is in view
AND Tuck’s paycheck gets bump! Sure, Tuck smiles (swells with pride),
his tongue forked like a snake’s! Proof he’s on the “Right’s Side!”
The Conservative’s Mantra’s that taxes deserve
to be paid by the poor for they’ve less to conserve!)
Watch how wealth dribbles down! There’s more cotton to pick,
when the rich hoard their gold (the truth’s poor don’t get sick!)
Poor man’s liquid desert – faux gold trickle, not spurt!


Long Tooth
March 14th in 2023

Fixation

I have always had an eye out for chocolate 
A dark skinned girl with glossy lips
Guess that's why I can't help myself
Every time I'm around all that sweetness 

Its like a craving that never washes off your mouth 
Cause everytime I'm this close
I can't help but lick my lips in anticipation 
Looking at hers all the time 

With my hands itching to trace my way
Over the fine canvas of dark beauty
Warm, heart racing over my touch, that always feels nice
With a great body scent once the wind blows 

A dark chocolate complexion with her face glowing
Every time the sun touches her skin
Or as I'd pick her up from the hips
To lift her up like a trophy, but she's more of a crown 

I've got my mind fixed on having me a dark skin
So that our kids turn out chocolate
It will be a chocolate dripping down our stairs
A lineage of people embracing our black beauty 

The PO£T

Color Is But An Identity

color is
but an identity
torn between seasons
 of potential similarities
the darkness of my skin
does not define
the tone of my heart

Lies tell the truth
yet
the truth tells lies
the confusion I held
was the clarity 
I had overlooked
yet it lay before me
as bright
as the darkness
that befell my fate 

If you knew 
that we both have
blood running through
our veins
yet yours is pumped by fury
which to you
reflects the gold in it
and sees
 the coal in my own

I may be dark skinned
but my heart
is as white as your skin colour
I am as different
as similar to you

Then why taunt
the innocence of 
my appearence
why
press against the silence
of my soul
through the negligence
of my innocence
you have found
the decency of my frailties

Anywhere
is my somewhere
because
you turned home
into a grail of tears
you made me solemn to sears
I had dreams
but you
made them numb
they succumb to
the recklessness 
of your fury

                                                  FRED ECABETH

The Skin I Play In

you say i'm beautiful for a dark skinned girl
fascinated by how i can hide behind afros, 
braids, and kinky curls
confused and yet, amused how my soul
gently captures pain and sufferin'
mesmerized with the skin i play in

you say i'm attractive for a black skinned girl
bewitched by how full my lips
fixated on the stereotypical black girl temperament
mistaken my scars can be forgotten with a superficial compliment
confused and yet, amused how my soul
only knows to exhibit strength and ambition
intrigued you are, with the skin i play in

Three Reliable Witnesses

There were three reliable eye witnesses to the robbery.
I was the first detective on the scene; 
did not even have time to put on my overcoat.
One said the perpetrator was young, blonde, five nine, thin.
Another said he was dark-skinned, thirty-five-ish, stocky, with green eyes.
A third said he was not sure if the perp was a woman or a man.
I gave this guy a business card to my other business.
When I am not solving crime from my easy chair, I sell eyeglasses.

His Masterpiece

I was born
A diamond in the rough
I am poetry in motion
Riddled with imperfections but
Flawlessly and wonderfully made
In the eyes of our Master,
A piece made in His likeness.
How I came to be
Dates back to the beginning
Of an eternity.
I have coarse hair
Like that of wool.
With just the right amount of
Melanin He wanted me to have. 
I am loved by my appreciators
For who I am within
I am disliked by others
Because of the color of my skin.
I share in a multitude of various
Levels of light and dark skinned-ness
The joy and happiness of self love. 
But sometimes in my reflection
When doubt raises the question
Whom it is I really see,
I say to myself first
Never question your worth
Negativity only speaks out
When you put it first.
Don't change a thing,
Just be yourself. 
And as I smile I can see
The peace of love
The Master has given me
And that piece of love
Bountifully residing in
The depths of my soul. 
I am a masterpiece
Formed from love by
The Master of peace
With just the right amount
Of melanin He wanted me to have.
From the top of my head
To the bottom of my feet.
I am His masterpiece.

Last Night

Last Night

Look up there.
Do you see the seven sisters?
The night is unusually warm.
I hear speeding cars going down Broadway.
The freight train is screeching across Canobie.
Purple-blooming jacarandas cry petals of rejection.
You sat on the curb and told me it was over.
Told me you were now seeing Bob from work.
I am happy for you if that is important to you.
I am happy he pleases you sexually when I could not.
Look up there.
I see the seven sisters dancing like queen stars.
Dancing stationary as with stones set in black marble.
You and I are through now.
No more naked romps in the dark den at midnight.
The candle is lit there and Mahler music still plays.
But vacant now are your gentle taps on my back door.
Missing now is the dark-skinned 19-year-old lady I desire.
Late at night now I lie on the shag carpet waiting,
Hopelessly waiting for your midnight tapping on my door.
But you never show up although you gave me hope.
Is it really finished? Last night
I fell asleep there as Mahler’s fourth symphony played on.
I dreamed of you sleeping naked by my side.

Losing Love To Hate and Violence

I am noticing a lot 
It is breaking my sad heart
When I see the way we're acting
A lot of people need some smacking
When they do not realize
They are darkening the skies
Of strangers friends and family
Because they are greedily
Being rude racist and brutal
Attempting to change then is futal
Unless I have help from others
We are all sisters and brothers
Dark skinned, light skinned
Gay or straight 
we all belong, its not too late
To bring us around back when
We treated everyone like friends

Sybil

This frail squint eyed woman
She wears the crown
She goes around town
Her hair matted and coiled
like entrails.

Pass her on
She’s your brother’s hand-me-downs.

This dark-skinned immigrant 
from an old barren distant land
feeds on this town’s useless information. 

She laughs so hard it stings.
She is simple and decisive.

“You will never learn a god damned thing”
“You are a sad song that played too long”

“I’m in demand…ask all your friends.”

“What a shameful game she played”
“Don’t you remember yesterday’s embers?”

“Show me your army..”

“Where do you go when no one’s watching you?”
“Wish I had another stab at your pale face”

“Whatever keeps you warm at night.”

This warm grainy palm
On the rusty banister
Is the grand vestibule to our small town.

How the Lights Flickered In the Rain

*how* *the* *lights* *flickered* *in* *the* *rain* 


Dark skinned,
cross eyed,
with thick mascara 
She was a poet.
and a dancer before that
Or was she a singer ,
I do not remember .
It was the festival of lights
The light from the earthen lamps 
fell slowly
 into the grass 
and in the freshly fallen dew 
it lingered awhile.
She wrote in her poems 
Of how she was a firefly 
She could shine
But no longer fly.
She sang,she danced
 and got drunk in everyone else's music.
They cursed her pen
And so as she lit the lamps
she knew that she ,
will burn that night .
Her dog with in his yellow collar 
Slept under the diwali lights,
 dreaming of lizards
 and of  Christmas .
They put a lot 
of lights out 
that year,
In a friendly
  competition 
with  the neighbours.
The lights were on
all night 
and it rained
 later that night .
No one saw how
the lights flickered 
In the rain .
But she did.
She walked
passed them
when everyone else 
was atlast sleeping  
She took
the essentials .
in hand and
 like the lights 
in the rain, 
she burned.



(• Diwali- Indian Festival of lights)

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