Long Black Poems
Long Black Poems. Below are the most popular long Black by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Black poems by poem length and keyword.
You
I don’t know what else to write
Am confused; everything is so right
You are my morning sun and my moon at night
I couldn’t have wished for a better relationship
You & I is the best of history recorded relationships
Let me cease to breathe the day I cease to love you
You are my everything; my everything is you
Whenever I see you smile; the eclipse in my eyes fades away
I am blindly at you mercy; don’t ever leave me and walk away
Am deeply in love with you; you are my beautiful black queen
You are so important to me; it’s checkmate without the queen
I the king worship you; I can’t gamble with you my queen
When everything fades away; I hope to always have “you”...
Te queiro currie...
Lordvip
14 oct, 2013.
Yond the Book of Judges, uncover the smudges,
Samson and or Shimshon, a Nazarite vowed, son,
Delilah deceptor, Philistia's daughter,
The lipstick was preying, weight lift also praying,
The black widow spider, spun her web of desire,
Weakness met the Stronger, Judge o'er his souls--weaker,
At night, just half on fire, the other half conspire,
The turning half plotted, the burning unspotted,
Samson's made of muscles, Spider stings turned mussels,
Spider's stinger retracts, eight-legged scissors hair hacks,
Samson was made a fool, Philistines grad high school,
Graduates assemble, alma martyrs temple,
Philistines filled--pagan, Samson don't see Dagon,
Flunkies built the Temple, protest those assembled,
Chants "Tie him 'tween pillars," "psst--same dream's dreamer!"
... and the rest is biblical history (theoretically/archeology, unchallenged? HM? Methinks misconception partial with Kansas ...) *Philistia was originally via Egyptian hieroglyphics as Sea People mid 1300 BC. After losing the war with Pharoah Ramses III, was banished to southern Canaan. Oddly, archeologists do not support this resettlement claim via the hieroglyphics. Then known as Pelesets popularly became Philistines The Philistines were brought into notoriety via the Bible during the days of Abraham and Isaac as King Abimelech was then ruler of Philistia. And of note, Sarah and Rebekah, as well. Seranim's or Lords ruled Philistia. They fell under the swords and arrows of the Babylonian Empire ruled by King Nebuchadnezzar II. And of further note, Arabically, Philistine is a derivative word for modern-day Palestine.
Anmweyyy, anmweyyy
Everybody is destroying Haiti
Please stop, stop, quit. At last, give the country
A break, a rich season. There are too many bandits, vandals
Too many lootings, thefts, too many crises and scandals
On this impoverished and exploited island
Give Hayti a chance to live better. Give our land
A break with too much violence and injustice
Ayiti needs peace, love and real justice
Why all of you are hurting Haiti so bad?
This is sickening
Haytians, please stop being so sad and mad
Haiti needs everybody's love and compassion
This is damning
Please help Haiti in this time of destruction
Or leave Hayti alone, to breathe
Hate only knows how to burn, kill and destroy
The truck is about to kiss the rugged cliff
Stop the rancor, put out the fire and bring joy
Haitians, Haytians, wake-up to a new beginning and era
Get rid of the bad seeds and unite with the Diaspora
Unite to fight against corruption and waste of the aids
Be positive! Be ready to get rid of all sorts of plagues
Please stop the violence and use sheer common sense
Hayti needs a new and better season
Haitians, help our nation be an oasis, a starry beacon
Let's understand each other
Unite to be better! Unite to help each other and to dance
Let's love each other to be better
Unite in this time of crisis; and reject death and violence
Anmweyyy, anmweyyy.
Copyright © 2019, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Chance / Change
Chance, that translucent shadow that creates change.
Change opened doors, opened windows outwards
into the deep, dark, recesses of inner space –
space, the dialectic – dilating the synapse –
giving birth to the possibility of dreams, of hope.
Chance, that opaque shadow that created change.
Change closed the doors, closed the windows inwards,
shutting off access to the light, of inner space,
slaughtering all the hopes and dreams
born from the mating of chance and change.
Change the light, of hope- a black cloaked, Grim Reaper.
A Beautiful Drug
This Drug, became a habit,
the habit became sorrow,
the sorrow became a nightmare,
the nightmare became change and loss
the loss of – what beauty was imagined,
has come to an acceptance, of a reality,
a reality that existed from the beginning.
Change, will not go easily into that black night.
Chance, will not give up easily, not without a fight !
This grape, will not a raisin, become !
This ivy refuses to metamorphose into a chameleon !
The shadow, the door, the window, the drug remain alive,
The life in them does not want to be shut out, shut down.
The feeling though – is – it all dies on a vine !
The feeling is, in that inner space, it all - remains ?,
the burial ground for change, for the future,
the end of hope and dreams never seen.
The essence of change, sometimes is a force so mean !
B. J. “A” 2
Will – ful – ness
Deep down, in the recesses of the hidden, the mysterious,
lies the will to hang on, to hang in, to live, – in spite of –
even in the grip of winter’s icy strangle hold,
forcing change to renew, rejuvenate, resurrect,
from deaths hands, an neonate, to journey
into another future, it seeks not, wants not !
The reluctant grape, the loathe ivy,
can not see that they will become food
to nourish our neonate, on it’s sojourn
into the wavering light of the mysterious.
Oh how I love the mystery !, why I love this mystery ?,
is a mystery to me and is a mystery to her - ( the drug ).
B. J. “A” 2
March 18th 2008
Being alone is an amethyst art
Gift to the soul searching dark
Mahogany moments
Shaping reality despite chaos or peace
Pearl perception of reality red from
blood of dead dreams
that will rise like a purple phoenix
inside blue breast
Walking in spirit with ancient ancestors
yet alone in the Streets of solitude
Fire in eyes
forgiving the lies
of whimsical fairy tales
That once spun hope
Like a golden thread
Around amber head
Ideals that float
like glowing halo
Keeping character afloat
Despite a sinking black hole
Left in the street to trap
Those who seem to nap
Sleep walking on the path
Sleeping Beauty is an example
Fairytale of slumber sampled
By a cherry kiss on lips
Is to die for or to live
If Prince never comes
what gives
rainbows inside to exist
Whether the field of forgiveness has been watered or not
Be the rose that grows
Through concrete streets with heart
Determined to thrive despite odds
With a scent of salvation a street soldier for God
argh
the wooden pirate
with a real leg
‘pon his left shoulder
not a parrot but a peg
argh
his ship inverted
sailed ‘neath the wave
and in his treasure chest
was a craggy cave
argh
he roared with rum
empty barrels were full
his flag was white
black bones and skull
argh
the flag though ripped
caught on his hook
but not for a hand
‘twas ‘stead of a foot
argh
he roamed the undersea
looking for loot
but oh all the bubbles
from a whale in a boot
argh
the old salt
was seawardly feared
for everyone knew
and heard of Woodbeard
argh
the submariner pirate
of raid and of plunder
sprang up on those
and pulled them all under
Frigid white cloud of breath is formed
in cold black darkness at mountains feet
blows away on cool biting wind
as I wait for bright breaking Dawn
shouldering pack of heavy orange
to climb the trail twisting and steep
to slowly rise into piercing light
seeking upward to the mountains peak
in piercing light of bright morn
in hard bare rock of mountain bones
seeking to dry twisted trees
there to spend long cold day
setting down my heavy load
off aching shoulders full of pain
from agonizing climb up mountain side
to the place where I now be
untie the knots of twisted string
revealing all things that lie within
seeking within the jumbled things
for the items that I need
awning bright of silver and blue
carefully tied on twisted trees
a pool of shade from bright of sun
soon to bring the burning heat
again within the pack of orange
seeking for the next needed thing
hammock of nylon white strong strings
tight between the twisted trees
down in deep that bottom there
of heavy burdens unlimbering
radio of multi-bands
to seek the music of bright jazz
and before into the hammock I climb
with bright pack by my side
filled with drinks and snack foods
bright fruit flavors with calories filled
under awning of bright blue
and web of hammock of purest white
with the jazz playing loud
one last thing do I need
rifle long with action of bolt
side strung sling of leather brown
eight by forty scope on it
carefully set by my side
on mountain peak height in bright sun
in hammock under awning’s shade
jazz plays brightly in the air
I wait the day for a deer to come
There is a baby cub Bobo who has lost his family and sow
His mother bear is gone, unable to teach him what to know
Alone he sits or stands in the grass or grabs onto a tree
Always watching from where he stops, with curiosity
He wanders around on the hill, restless without a playmate
He listens when I talk to him; our meeting can feel like fate
Each day he checks in a few times, sometimes runs, then comes back
Other times gone a while, until next day in trees; I see his color black
Today, I was only feet from him, after he had been near my chair
This bear cub has shown he just wants connection, someone to care
He has made this his partial home as he comes and as he goes
I watch him sit, stand, run and climb; now it is me he knows
Heidi Sands
7/31/23
Together – he and I – him and me
We grow things in abundance
Green beans, tomatoes, squash
Okra, calves, chicks and pigs
Guineas and turkeys, some kittens
A puppy who is mostly grown
But never too old to play
Together – we – us – our
Hearts thrive on a world
Of abundance, plenty, wealth
In rich, black earth that gets
Nutrients from a downpour
Pounding the ground and bouncing
Drops off the rocky path
Together – he and I – him and me
We listen to friends who bicker
Consuming time with quarrels
Never thinking about how this dispute
Can grow, like our cucumbers
Vining their way from a short word
One weed, to something you can’t pull up
A vine that leaves you feeling
Lost, lonely, silent
Amid the beautiful blooms
That proceed the vegetable
And the tired ache that throbs
Inside a heart who is breaking
From the sorrow of squabbling
Her effervescent skin glows upon her baby
No gold crown, nor pedestal, nor zealot,
only exalted hopes between heartbeats let be
Oval black eyes, resonant green her Mantis palette
Vibrations osculating, antennas array,
she orients the airflow with sensing ability
signaling the presence of menacing prey
She is seeker of soils varied for fertility
By wind and water shaped a human form,
giving rewarding rise to a sculptured womb
from dense clusters humbling herself to perform
Of flora, of fauna, vegetal body she’ll rhumb
Influencer of feelings, an empath's birth right,
stems the empyrean heaven of her baby Messiah
rooting warmth, mapping space with sensory light
The constellations foretell, the birth of Sequoia
Of the wind’s rhythm, roots destiny beholds,
named for the patience of the tallest trees
Sired by the cosmos Cotati of star lords
From deep indigo skies that bring us to our knees
Energy beings adrift in soul space
She is now a dark and impenetrable forest
He branchlets, akin of Hala’s race,
Behold spirits weaving on a kismet quest
Once a student of the priests of Pama
wisdom and martial arts, CHOP-POW-KICKS,
metamorphosed Celestial Madonna,
into greener pastures of biometrics
And when asked for a sign by the night star
She’ll lift the Messiah toward the dark vastness
and when ether sweeps smoke rising afar
a glimpse of beauty for a moment no less
Not crown, nor altar, nor throne, only this,
rings in arms, cradled by guardianships
Mother and Child, a universe openness,
'neath what’s written in the stars where all ellipse