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.
From the obscure fossilized time of the yonder past,
humans traversed evolution’s ordained trajectory,
ascended to the high peak of incisive intelligence,
and emerged as the most perceptive living species.
Insecure in the collapsing orbit of the consumed life,
I gravitate toward the innate center of sensuous self,
get sucked into the black hole of the resolute ego,
the survival instinct yields to the power of intellect.
When in agonized life the dreams drown in dark abyss,
I search for the light of wisdom illumining my soul,
attain the sublime state of devout consciousness,
discern the divine harmony with the supreme melody.
I abandon the ego entangled in the complex equation
of existence to understand the meaning of life
in the scale of soul’s quotient of spiritual wisdom,
then the portal opens to the sanctum of profound bliss.
______________
January 15, 2023
Contest : A Spiritual Wisdom Download
Sponsored by : Unseeking Seeker
I savor silence and my solitary dreams, my wanderings
and in my candlelit room, I withdraw
to my secret place and you
I have put on our wedding dance music
and I am travelling back, back in time with a sigh
I know what comes next and I want to weep with love
my dress is a cloud of red chiffon flowing, flowing
and you my darling, are in a black suit
soft the jazz music drifting in my meditation
did I put that music on or did it just come to me
you whisper in my ear, I love you, and I turn the page
back, back, I turn back the pages
we swirl onto the dance floor, twirling and dipping perfectly
and the red chiffon is beauty
kiss me my darling your whisper or is that the music
your strong arms hold me tightly, oh I remember
and we are spinning, spinning, spinning
then the music is loud like thunder, roaring
and you are fading
our hands slipping
then our fingertips
and still we are spinning
until you are gone and I am alone
yet the music goes on and on
and in my candlelit room, I take a deep breath . . .
__________________________________
February 5, 2016
Poetry/Free Verse/my dress is a cloud of red
Copyright Protected, ID 16-1109-825-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted to the contest, 2019 Marathon, Mile 14
sponsor, Mark Toney
First Place
He spoke of angels and demons,
Obsessed with supernatural beings and terrors.
In hopes to discover their wings and horns,
To know why angels have light,
and demons embody the dark.
Blinded by the urge to claim an angel's glorious heart,
He neglected the living and breathing,
And yearned for the warriors of heaven & protectors of hell.
I bared my divine soul—take it all, I told him.
His eyes crinkled in disgust.
My soul looked damaged, not fit for an angel,
And too clean for a demon.
He claimed I was neither,
He aimed for the soul of either.
My back, bruised from the weight of broken wings, ached.
My scalp, still sore from silver strands torn away, burned.
My eyes, now black and blue, leaked of tears—
They used to be gold.
The stranger dismissed me,
Off to enchant an angel, to steal their soul.
Why search for it, when I offer you mine for free?
What should be an atmosphere of excitement
Becomes something more deadly - more violent
A child's first sound should be heard
Instead silence echoes
Even before life began
A black baby understands
That in order to survive the world outside
Their cries should be kept on the inside
How painfully sad
That before it's existence
It inherited generational silence
Ones whispered through the branches of their ancestry
The unspoken rules that come with the guide of how to survive -
Being black and alive
There are way scarier things then the dark
Like the clothes on your chair, something innocent
Becomes dark and twisted
Once the lights are off
Morphing into shadows
Worse than any nightmare your mind to conjure
If you don't understand this metaphor
I'm talking about the performative actions of the modern day oppressors
How messed up
That we live in a world
That claims that us black people are the 'monsters'
Yet before our children are even born
You've forced
Our sons and daughters
Into a life dictated by silence
WHEN AM GONE
I can only imagine of what will happen when am gone
Am so scared now that I have heard there is nothing I can do before my time
The thought now creeping closely
Destroying every moment of my breath
I am dope………….
What actually will or how will it be
When during the ‘scene’
And the wind blows to the west
The bitterness of the day
Smearing each face with “Blonde”
And messages being sent
The fame being spread
And finally the Man ‘in black’
Finalizes with the gospel
I can only imagine of the mood
Tears falling swiftly like streams from Nile
And then its done
He says, in his speech
‘May he rest in peace’
Form:
at times it seems to be their only ticket out of the hood
young black men with athletic talents that are exceptionally good
be it basketball, football, baseball or any other type of sport
it's their natural athletic ability where they don't seem to fall short
but not all of them are gifted enough to have top-notch grades
they use what they got to lie in the bed of life that they've made
to get out of the projects, beyond the violence and the crime
to rise above their circumstances, away from the troubled and hard times
but the pressure is tremendous and there are only a certain numbers of spots
they will attempt to do anything to rise up to the top
many of them are overwhelmed, many get lost and confused
everybody wants a piece of them, they can't seem to win nor lose
awesome responsibility placed upon their untutored minds
many of them will misstep and get left behind
the prestige and money make a most seductive bait
a number of them will bypass college as they can not afford to wait
organized sports, the fast track to fortune and fame
but all it seems to have done is take the fun out of the game
it's not personal, it's business
and the athletes are just tools
to make money for those in powers
but what about education and school?
to turn pro, to get paid, to have the American dream
organized sports, it's no longer about fun nor about the team
Very intentionally,
I walk along the driveway.
The short walk is usually
To the mail box or to retreve
The garbage container.
Intentionally, I have changed
my outlook because some
months ago I simply walked
with my head down,
unconcerned about what
might be of interest around me.
Early one morning while looking down,
a black dog suddenly walked up next to me.
I was startled by him, but quickly realized
that he was harmless. I had nothing to fear.
But the encounter completely altered my walk.
Presently, as I walk, I look all around,
out, up, and away. There is so much more
to see, and so much less to be startled by.
He remains stalwart, though his eyes be dim
tales of the sea define him, some grim
his face etched like a weathered map, a compass
pointing between light and shadows, thin.
A broken nose belies his youth, most zealous
once brash and bold, defiant and rebellious
his black hair, bright eyes and jawline, strong
now tempered with white beard, grays and yellows.
His past has logged a journal of high adventures
stormy life, lost loves, foolishness and treasures
he navigates his emotions with a stoic demeanor
yet his telling face and eyes reveal more than ever.
Written on 6/7/2022
SAWN ASUNDER
They were young black African-American boys
Some teenage, some twenty to thirty years old
Tempted slain with the guns no one wins no one won
SAWN ASUNDER
SAWN ASUNDER
Sin is a tempter
But choice is you decision
But like America you got tunnel vision
Are you sure you wanna do that
SAWN ASUNDER
SAWN ASUNDER
They're wearing the skins
Of non Caucasians
Not races just hates us
For no apparent reason other than sins lust
SAWN ASUNDER
SAWN ASUNDER
They are our troops in conflicts and in wars
What are they fighting for
Tempted slain with the guns no one wins no one won
SAWN ASUNDER
SAWN ASUNDER
Sin is a tempter
But choice is you decision
But like America you got tunnel vision
Are you sure you wanna do that
SAWN ASUNDER
Their are police who are protecting us
Not all of them are bad cops
Running around gunning down youths, and common citizens
SAWN ASUNDER
SAWN ASUNDER
Sin is a tempter
But choice is you decision
But like America you got tunnel vision
Are you sure you wanna do that
SAWN ASUNDER
Tempted slain with the guns no one wins no one won
They were stoned, tempted and slain by the sword
Wandering about in sheep and goat skins
Destitute, afflicted, tormented
SAWN ASUNDER
2/15/18
written by James Edward Lee Sr. 2018©
taken from/inspired by HEBREWS 11:37
from anthology “Actually Happening My True Testimony Reality”
The pendulum screams as it slices the air,
A blurred arc of frantic, kinetic despair.
From the pole of delight to the pole of regret,
We pay down the interest on spiritual debt.
Hot bleeds to cold, and the day bleeds to night,
A binary flicker of shadow and light.
But watch for the apex, the top of the swing,
Where gravity pauses and loses its sting.
The zero-point field where the current goes dead,
Before the next thought can infect the head.
Here is the silence that deafens the ghost,
The guest uninvited who becomes the host.
The ego is hungry, a mechanism of steel,
Grinding the grist in the turn of the wheel.
It hunts for a future, it mourns for a past,
But the gap is the anchor that holds the soul fast.
In the breach of the circuit, the spark is set free,
Not what you are, but what you will be.
We hang in the balance, unmade and unbound,
Safe from the trap, where we cannot be found.