Long Poem Topics

Check out these short poem topics. Find short poems by topic or form.

abortion absence
abuse addiction
adventure africa
age allah
allegory allusion
america analogy
angel anger
angst animal
anniversary anti bullying
anxiety appreciation
april arabic
art assonance
aubade august
autumn baby
bangla baptism
baseball basketball
beach beautiful
beauty bereavement
best friend betrayal
bible bio
bird birth
birthday black african american
blessing blue
boat body
books boxing day
boy boyfriend
break up bridal shower
brother bullying
business butterfly
cancer candy
car care
career caregiving
cat celebration
celebrity change
chanukah character
cheer up chicago
child child abuse
childhood children
chocolate christian
christmas cinco de mayo
cinderella city
class clothes
color columbus day
community computer
confidence conflict
confusion cool
corruption courage
cousin cowboy
crazy creation
crush cry
culture cute love
dad daffodils
dance dark
daughter day
death death of a friend
december dedication
deep depression
desire destiny
devotion discrimination
divorce dog
dream drink
drug earth
earth day easter
education emo
emotions encouraging
endurance engagement
england environment
epic eulogy
eve evil
fairy faith
family fantasy
farewell farm
fashion fate
father father daughter
father son fathers day
fear february
feelings film
fire firework
first love fish
fishing flower
flying food
football for children
for her for him
for kids forgiveness
freedom french
friend friendship
fruit fun
funeral funny
funny love future
games garden
gender giggle
girl girlfriend
giving god
golf good friday
good morning good night
goodbye gospel
gothic graduate
graduation grandchild
granddaughter grandfather
grandmother grandparents
grandson grave
green grief
growing up growth
guitar hair
halloween happiness
happy happy birthday
hate health
heart heartbreak
heartbroken heaven
hello hero
high school hilarious
hindi hip hop
history hockey
holiday holocaust
home homework
hope horror
horse house
how i feel howl
humanity humor
humorous hurt
husband hyperbole
i am i love you
i miss you identity
image imagery
imagination immigration
independence day innocence
insect inspiration
inspirational integrity
international internet
introspection ireland
irony islamic
january jealousy
jesus jewish
jobs journey
joy judgement
july june
kid kindergarten
kiss language
leadership leaving
life light
little sister london
loneliness lonely
longing loss
lost lost love
love love hurts
lust lyric
magic malayalam
marathi march
marriage math
may me
meaningful memorial day
memory men
mental illness mentor
metaphor metrical tale
middle school military
miracle mirror
miss you missing
missing you mom
money moon
morning mother
mother daughter mother son
mothers day motivation
mountains moving on
mum murder
muse music
my child my children
mystery myth
mythology name
native american natural disasters
nature new year
new years day new york
nice niece
night nonsense
nostalgia november
nursery rhyme obituary
ocean october
old onomatopoeia
pain paradise
parents paris
parody pashto
passion patriotic
peace people
perspective pets
philosophy places
planet poems
poetess poetry
poets political
pollution poverty
power prayer
prejudice preschool
presidents day pride
princess prison
proposal psychological
purple quinceanera
race racism
rain rainbow
rainforest rap
raven recovery from
red relationship
religion religious
remember remembrance day
repetition retirement
riddle rights
river romance
romantic rose
roses are red rude
sad sad love
satire scary
school science
science fiction sea
seasons self
senses sensual
september sexy
sick silence
silly silver
simile simple
sin sister
sky slam
slavery sleep
smart smile
snow soccer
social society
softball soldier
solitude sometimes
son song
sorrow sorry
soulmate sound
space spanish
spiritual spoken word
sports spring
star stars
storm strength
stress student
success suicide
summer sun
sunset sunshine
surreal sweet
symbolism sympathy
tamil teacher
teachers day technology
teen teenage
thank you thanks
thanksgiving thanksgiving day
tiger time
today together
travel tree
tribute true love
trust truth
universe uplifting
urban urdu
usa vacation
valentines day vanity
veterans day violence
visionary vogon
voice volleyball
voyage war
water weather
wedding wife
wind wine
winter wisdom
woman women
word play words
work world
world war i world war ii
write writing
yellow youth

Poetry Forum Areas

Introduce Yourself

New to PoetrySoup? Introduce yourself here. Tell us something about yourself.

Looking for a Poem

Can't find a poem you've read before? Looking for a poem for a special person or an occasion? Ask other member for help.

Writing Poetry

Ways to improve your poetry. Post your techniques, tips, and creative ideas how to write better.

High Critique

For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!

How do I...?

Ask PoetrySoup Members how to do something or find something on PoetrySoup.



You have an ad blocker! We understand, but...

PoetrySoup is a small privately owned website. Our means of support comes from advertising revenue. We want to keep PoetrySoup alive, make it better, and keep it free. Please support us by disabling your ad blocker on PoetrySoup. See how to enable ads while keeping your ad blocker active. Also, did you know you can become a PoetrySoup Lifetime Premium Member and block ads forever...while getting many more great features. Take a look! Thank you!
Get Your Premium Membership


Long Black african american Poems

Long Black african american Poems. Below are the most popular long Black african american by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Black african american poems by poem length and keyword.

See also: Famous Long Poems

Long Poems
Long poem by arthur vaso | Details

L'Overture

L'Overture


Lest we forget
Words often mouthed
For the dead of bloody war
Forgot not those great ones
Whose battles were on the home front
Seeking only equality of voice

Ray Charles to you was a singer
Backwards and long ago he was a preacher
A brilliant man of forward thought
Who gifted the world with three wise women
The teacher
The poet
The Lawyer

Flo taught many with words
Long ago and yet here today
Those who teach both young and old
Hold the noblest of positions
Steering the generations
To a higher cause
With kindness, with heart
With head held up to the skies
Standing ground for those before
Abhorring those acting immature

1872 saw the first black lawyer
A sharp mind of determined heart
Argued to the Supremes
Beauty and brains
Leading the way towards freedom
For women of all races
For in 1872 she had the social graces

The revolution of sonnets
Black woman and prose
The poem and the black rose
In 1893 to be printed by a Little
Sure meant a lot
Henrietta fought the enemy
With languages and words
Her Wordsworth more than Haitian blood

The past, the present
Merging onto our futures dreams
Hope cares not the color, none at all
Hope comes from the rainbows
Where voices and angels whisper
When we part this early soil
Make us all into one

If I had a coloring book
In it I would put these three
Who colored the freedom of women
With education, articulation and harmony
The pen indeed defeated the sword
L'Overture gagne

* L'Overture gagne = The opening , won

In Actual fact the correct spelling of the French word, would be “L'Ouverture” So I was using a play on words with the Revolutionaries last name.

Notes: Not much of a poem, however this was inspired by an old photo I saw of Charlotte E. Ray. The first African American Lawyer in United States, and the first female lawyer in the district of Colombia. When I did some digging, I found she had also 2 sisters, one a poet, one a teacher. Their father was a preacher who firmly believed in education.

Her sister was one Henrietta Cordelia Ray, an American poet. Her poetry of  Sonnets was a short book of 12 sonnets on Milton, Shakespeare, Raphael, and Beethoven, among other subjects. Her sonnet on the Haitian revolutionary Toussaint L'Overture is notable for its belated engagement in black politics (absent from her earlier verse) and for its allusions to William Wordsworth's famous sonnet, "To Touissaint L'Overture”

Well now, the title makes more sense, n’est pas? However the last name also means in English “The Opening” and I thought how fitting that in the late 1800’s black women were beginning to open doors to the future. 

Also now the line “Her Wordsworth more than Haitian blood” should be self explanatory and no wordsworth was not a typo! (even I am famous for them)

Now another of my passions, is French poetry, history and culture, and yes Touissaint L'Overture stood up to Napoleon and although historically he lost, and was deported to France where he died, I think its safe to say that “L'Overture gagne” meaning he won, in that he too was the “Opening” for the changes that would come later. In fact its there is some irony that all the revolution for change is often lost in the short term, when education and the pen make gains that are very hard to revere.

Ray Charles to you was a singer
Backwards and long ago he was a preacher

This of course means if you take Ray Charles the singer’s name that I am sure most know and reverse the name, you get the name Charles Ray, the father of the three women.

Argued to the Supremes

Again, Charlotte E. Ray the lawyer did argue in the Supreme Court and so the play on words with “the Supremes” and one could infer many meanings in this line.

Now the third sister was a teacher and I haven’t found out much about her, her name was Florence and Flo for short, and as I jumped periods with Ray Charles and Charles Ray, when I was reading about these strong women, and one must remember the time at which they made their accomplishments was not as today, it made me thing of another Flo, and therefore, I intermixed by thoughts of her with that of which I imagined the teacher would be.

Little, refers to the publishing company who published Henrietta’s sonnets

Not all poems are meant to be great, some are just stories, and I love adding double meanings and innuendo, because when engaging people in discussion, there is nothing that better than relating events and people they may know with those of the past they may not. As sometimes with students, we discuss poems at a local coffee shop, this type of poem makes for great discussions. 

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by Michael Hawk Moore | Details

A letter from ME

ME dear FATHER you already know,
But you need to be briefed,
On a tragedy I believe you must not know.
There’s a deadly dance with violence killing teens in America’s Black Communities.
Use to be, 
Good Christian mothers, fathers and youngsters had close neighbors who knew each other,
Youngsters playing in the streets from dust to dawn were safe from strangers,
Now kids stress walking through an apartment complex with minds set on being murdered.
City streets echo mother’s screams as her baby boy dies with her unfulfilling dreams,
She never believed prom night would be the last night her teen would last breathe.
Persistent teen mothers pay bus fare to pick peaches to pay high day care fees, 
While pre- teens skip ABC’s to sell crack on his street trying to out think the police. 
Fathers become felons trying to feed families but falters and get sentenced to fifty until forever,
While kids emulate videogame killers that teach people CAN’T really die permanently.
Battlefield schools try and try to have students excel with tools to live by, 
While school teachers try to survive,
Shooters doing drive-byes, kids swinging knives, and living an unappreciated life.
Black communities need to be bless again with your very best,
Like an Angela Davis, MLK, Eldridge Clever or a Malcom x.
No such luck, 
Peace treaties between Black Communities and the police are breaking up.
Neither side tries to understand the other side, 
So on busy city streets a teen or police officer dies, 
And somewhere families cry.
Some get so upset about corrupt police they literally throw-up,
Hearing police kill people like Victor White while the detainee was handcuffed.
Use to be,
Proven down through history the race that occupies and wears the crown of the presidency,
Surges pass suspicions and police brutality merging into America’s color blind main stream.
But with recent diversity in the presidency black people are still treated as if in the 50’s,
When police denied human rights to nearly everybody born with natural sunscreen.
So what starts isn’t so bizarre, 
Safety for Police and Black Communities members departs,
And deadly “WAR” starts. 
“Street” side will be classified as a justifiable homicide no longer,
“Civil Service” side leaves sons and daughters with no fathers,
While safety on city streets grows farther away leaving danger.
Black people try to impart to their teens so they have good hearts,
Respect other’s rights, love family, avoid prison bars.
But the reality of the city streets they see,
Police killing Philando Catile in his passenger’s seat,
Rips their sense of freedom self and safety apart.
Black post-teens scream, “BLACK LIVES MATTER” though it seems, NO LIFE MATTERS much, 
Collectively black people are just holding “it” together because it’s much harder, 
With four out of ten black men their “family’s strength” siting locked up,
And another generation from black and brown nations grows up in ghettos and goes no farther.
You haven’t been around much,
So this sin-filled faithful follower sits and ponders this stuff,
Waiting for one side to stand up swallow pride and say, “ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!”.
I’m waiting to see if in this century black on black insanity, killing blacks to meet gang needs, will cease,
And parents in these communities will truly teach teens nothing good comes from being in the streets.
We need to start a Million Person Protest March gather people together,
Like pictures of the sixties with passionate preachers pleading,
“There be NO reason for the EXECUTIONS of our black teens,
Just because hip-hoppers were stopped by a prejudice Praetorian.
Peace officers have Tasers, beans bag guns, dogs they can order.
Thus when the son of someone runs or has no gun in hand, 
There are other options better than murder”.

FATHER, all recognize the self-sacrifices our military goes through.
Our military teaches police to use guns, attack, stay compose during combat,
Thus, the institution has no justification to begin instructions on when not to shoot.
But when military service is through,
And a new police badge rest on a chest in clear view,
The human being must come back,
And he or she must protect and serve the whole community white or black.
So I’m asking you,
And hope you can now understand what your Children-of-The-Sun clan are going through,
And feel their “need”, then intervene in this misery with a miracle or two.
Your truly,
ME.

Copyright © Michael Hawk Moore | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by AC Benford | Details

ILL KEEP BOTH COINS

There is more than one value of a Browned-Coin
and no matter how hard it may be to accept and appreciate their worth
I unlike you
have decided to keep both coins
Shiny and Darkened

Today 
I choose the Browned-Coin I found lying on the ground in the Suburbs
As though
The weight to bear, too heavy for “Change”
and embarrassment of such pride staking gatherings is none the more appreciated, 
with time consumption for calculating 
an hundredfold
Looking at one shiny 
as though well-kept in safe places
Preserved as rarity by cherished old matrons who sit amongst thirteen stars
while liberating bands around heads, keep eyes gazing at skies over States-United
on one side, making promises to turn new leafs for the integration of 
shiny Browned-Coins, as Reserves temporarily deter 
dissemination into the depreciating masses 
of darkened similitude
Yet
something one could slowly 
bank on

So you see
There is more than one value of a Browned-Coin
and no matter how hard it may be to accept and appreciate their worth
I unlike you
have decided to keep both coins
Shiny and Darkened

Today
 I choose the Browned-Coin I found lying on the ground in the Hood
as though
no one would ever find value in such minute figures
enough to pick them up and keep them
in population
Looking at one 
darkened and disproportioned
as though irresponsibly cared and worn from circumstance.
The waning of brighter rounded Political faces rejecting revisions in capital, 
engendering scores of self-disdain from beliefs that, 
words illegitimately placed
over the head of a once New Republican 
will make sense enough to at least uphold the value of a browned coin
assimilate the word tattooed on the back of his neck
and will someday become truths 
held as self-evidence

Yes, 
there is more than one value of a Browned-Coin
but though there are over a billion altogether in circulation
they insist on separately trying to fit the Bill,
individually rendering them,
as one percent

So I unlike you
have decided to keep both coins
Shiny and Darkened

I have collectively gathered 
that, since, one and one make two
one day in one sense one cent will help one cent make good sense
and that, since, one and one is two, cents, further from nonsense, but 
two cents closer to the ninety-eight more Browned faces needed to
gather one-hundred Browned-Political Figures 
together to create One Bill 

I unlike you
have decided to keep both coins
Shiny and Darkened

Now 
since politicians don’t even make sense to politicians 
and the number of cents needed for Browned-Coins to appreciate their worth 
is only accepted when multiplied by higher values and divided amongst Political faces 
too high for Browned-Coins to reach to, “exact change,” 
abuse the worth of Browned-Coins in numbers 
like corn plucked in markets from the stock, 
and
have collected
enough cents to make sense of the nonsense
perpetuated  by higher numbers who count on creating Bills 
Mint to Remove scores of Browned-Coins from current-seas,
I have tasked myself with a task of the highest of difficulties 
I write to keep Browned-Coins 
in population

Because 
I too have
sometimes walked by and seen 
the two Browned-Coins on the ground, 
the one Shiny and the one Darkened 
and in a prideful vain thought that even the voices in my head muffled, 
for an instance, I became prejudice against my own color when the questions were aroused,

Do you really want to pick those up?
You don’t know where they came from or what they could be carrying!
Do you really want to be seen gathering the likes of those?
Are they really worth it? 

And it’s, 
around that time
 that I shake my head to rattle “Change,” in mind 
thinking

I once was of two Browned-Cents found lying on the grounds of both places
the Suburbs and the Hood, and have been the both, shiny and Darkened,
and know what it is to feel as though one will never amount to enough,
so I do know how long it takes for two browned coins to accumulate
Cents enough to appreciate worth

But 
there is more than one value of a Browned-Coin
And until every Browned-Coin realizes that, unless we are all counted together as a whole,
 we will never truly be valued as more than one percent

So since 
two Browned-Cents is better than No sense at all
I unlike you
have decided to keep both coins
the Shiny and the Darkened

Copyright © AC Benford | Year Posted 2017

Long poem by Ken Jordan | Details

Watts Is Burning

Poet: Ken Jordan
Poem: Watts Is Burning
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: July/2014


Run children run!
Run sister run!
Run brother run!

Run for your guns

We ain't backing down
Not this time -

Run through
the
poisoned 
 black smoke,

that
permeates
through
Watts -

Run pass
the
looting,

Run down
the
land mine
streets,

Run pass
the house
that's 
no longer
your home -

Run for your guns
Fight for your life -

The Army 
is here,

and

they aim
to kill -

Run run run -

fire is raging......

down every
street
in
our community -

Watts 
is
burning,

And

The powers
that be,

show no
interest
in

putting out
the
flames -

Run children run -
Run sister run -
Run brother run -

Run for your guns
We ain't backing down
Not this time -

Civil War is here -

Hell fire has erupted -

Set ablaze
by 
our city's,

racial
government
of 
bigots,

that are
intolerant
to
black people.

Police
 brutality,
is at 
an
all-time
high -

and
the rotten
stench 
of
racism 
has ran
it's
course -

Run children run
Run sister run
Run brother run

Run for your guns
We ain't backing down -
Not this time -

Watts
Rebellion
is
here!

Today
we write
history -

today we die.

We want 
the
world
to see,

that 
we are
standing up
for our
rights,

 against
 a corrupt 
city
government -

We 
have endured 
enough 
adversity,

Our
turning point
is now -

Our revolution 
is now -

We are fighting 
for
our Civil Rights,

Equal Rights
Equal Pay,

A Right To
Vote -

Better Living
Conditions,

And
Fare Housing,

We are fighting
for
our lives -

Run children run -
Run sister run -
Run brother run -

Run for your guns
We ain't backing down
Not this time -

Watts,
is
burning.

Racial
Discrimination,

has
 cloaked
our city.......

choked
It,

and

strangled
it.

Dark plumes
of
smoke,

from gunfire
explosives,
and
hazardous 
gases,

sends
a
disturbing 
wave
of
Shock
over the
T.V.
screen,

to
Millions
of
people
watching
around 
the
World -

The
LAPD
and
the National 
guard -

Have 
surrounded
us -

We want
 back down -

Blood is
shedding,

white blood -
black blood -

on our
streets -

The city's
racial 
bureaucratic
machine,

have
moved in
to
barricade
 us,

to our
neighborhood's,

leaving 
one way in,
one way out -

Leaving
us
no choice

accept
to
fight -

And
Watts,
continue to
burn -

We continue 
to
burn,

with anger
and
frustration.

The Chief
of
Police,

have
turned 
his
head,

to
our situation,

as fire
rages
all around.

The injured
and
dead

are pilling 
up -

Emergency
vehicles
have been

ordered 
to
stay away,

the
situation
is
too volatile -

Everything 
is
out 
of
control .......

We 
Are Out
Of
Control.

Watts
is
burning -

Run children run
Run sister run 
Run brother run

Run for your guns
We ain't backing down
Not this time

HELL
is
unleashed

In
South
L.A.

on
a people,

born in this
country.

We
are 
fed up,

we
have had
enough 

of
the
piss poor
treatment,

from
white
slum lords,

and

red tape
from 
racial city
authorities,

insisting 
that

poverty
stricken

Compton,
and
Watts,

is 
the only
affordable 
area's,

where 
we
could live -

City official's
and
state government,

has
rejected any 
and
all
legal demands
by
black leaders,

fighting
to 
better

our 
living
conditions.

By
taking
this stand,

arrogant,
racist whites,

Struck
a
match
to

Watts,
riot -

burn baby burn

let Watts,
burn
to
ashes -

Black Ashes,

cremated
by
bigots 

in
uniforms,

masquerading 
as
human beings -

Watts,
is 
burning

and 

will
continue
to
burn.

Burn baby burn!

Let it burn
to 
Black Ashes

HELL FIRE!
will burn,

until
liberty
is 
won -

Run children run
Run sister run
Run brother run

Stand up black people,
We ain't backing down

Not this time -












Copyright © Ken Jordan | Year Posted 2014

Long poem by Ken Jordan | Details

Watts Is Burning

Poet: Ken Jordan
Poem: Watts Is Burning
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: July/2014


Run children run!
Run sister run!
Run brother run!

Run for your guns

We ain't backing down
Not this time -

Run through
the
poisoned 
 black smoke,

that
permeates
through
Watts -

Run pass
the
looting,

Run down
the
land mine
streets,

Run pass
the house
that's 
no longer
your home -

Run for your guns
Fight for your life -

The Army 
is here,

and

they aim
to kill -

Run run run -

fire is raging......

down every
street
in
our community -

Watts 
is
burning,

And

The powers
that be,

show no
interest
in

putting out
the
flames -

Run children run -
Run sister run -
Run brother run -

Run for your guns
We ain't backing down
Not this time -

Civil War is here -

Hell fire has erupted -

Set ablaze
by 
our city's,

racial
government
of 
bigots,

that are
intolerant
to
black people.

Police
 brutality,
is at 
an
all-time
high -

and
the rotten
stench 
of
racism 
has ran
it's
course -

Run children run
Run sister run
Run brother run

Run for your guns
We ain't backing down -
Not this time -

Watts
Rebellion
is
here!

Today
we write
history -

today we die.

We want 
the
world
to see,

that 
we are
standing up
for our
rights,

 against
 a corrupt 
city
government -

We 
have endured 
enough 
adversity,

Our
turning point
is now -

Our revolution 
is now -

We are fighting 
for
our Civil Rights,

Equal Rights
Equal Pay,

A Right To
Vote -

Better Living
Conditions,

And
Fare Housing,

We are fighting
for
our lives -

Run children run -
Run sister run -
Run brother run -

Run for your guns
We ain't backing down
Not this time -

Watts,
is
burning.

Racial
Discrimination,

has
 cloaked
our city.......

choked
It,

and

strangled
it.

Dark plumes
of
smoke,

from gunfire
explosives,
and
hazardous 
gases,

sends
a
disturbing 
wave
of
Shock
over the
T.V.
screen,

to
Millions
of
people
watching
around 
the
World -

The
LAPD
and
the National 
guard -

Have 
surrounded
us -

We want
 back down -

Blood is
shedding,

white blood -
black blood -

on our
streets -

The city's
racial 
bureaucratic
machine,

have
moved in
to
barricade
 us,

to our
neighborhood's,

leaving 
one way in,
one way out -

Leaving
us
no choice

accept
to
fight -

And
Watts,
continue to
burn -

We continue 
to
burn,

with anger
and
frustration.

The Chief
of
Police,

have
turned 
his
head,

to
our situation,

as fire
rages
all around.

The injured
and
dead

are pilling 
up -

Emergency
vehicles
have been

ordered 
to
stay away,

the
situation
is
too volatile -

Everything 
is
out 
of
control .......

We 
Are Out
Of
Control.

Watts
is
burning -

Run children run
Run sister run 
Run brother run

Run for your guns
We ain't backing down
Not this time

HELL
is
unleashed

In
South
L.A.

on
a people,

born in this
country.

We
are 
fed up,

we
have had
enough 

of
the
piss poor
treatment,

from
white
slum lords,

and

red tape
from 
racial city
authorities,

insisting 
that

poverty
stricken

Compton,
and
Watts,

is 
the only
affordable 
area's,

where 
we
could live -

City official's
and
state government,

has
rejected any 
and
all
legal demands
by
black leaders,

fighting
to 
better

our 
living
conditions.

By
taking
this stand,

arrogant,
racist whites,

Struck
a
match
to

Watts,
riot -

burn baby burn

let Watts,
burn
to
ashes -

Black Ashes,

cremated
by
bigots 

in
uniforms,

masquerading 
as
human beings -

Watts,
is 
burning

and 

will
continue
to
burn.

Burn baby burn!

Let it burn
to 
Black Ashes

HELL FIRE!
will burn,

until
liberty
is 
won -

Run children run
Run sister run
Run brother run

Stand up black people,
We ain't backing down

Not this time -












Copyright © Ken Jordan | Year Posted 2014

Long poem by AC Benford | Details

RACE THE FINALS SPOKEN WORD

Listen to poem:
I wish to Relay To all of my people the importance of sticking together as a team And that Because we have run through the preliminary trials as selfish individual, goal seekers we have barely made it to the finals, as if, winning our, “Race” is undoable or un-triable Have all but silenced the roaring power we gain from our people united cheering in the bleachers from plodding along as the dauntingly misdirected at a tortoises pace without holding ourselves accountable or reliable Almost destroying the chances of the enslaves life-long dream You see This Race Will be considered, Earths Final Race A Worldwide Event A sport in which our True Star Players are violently removed from the game by the officials or made to disappear without a trace Displaying our opponents, un-sportsmanlike conduct, their incapability for fair play And revealing foul play as their true intent Winning Earths Final Race will be determined by How well we get along Not by How divided we will stay weak How well when pushed down or held back we back down or turn the other cheek Yet How together we will stand strong Not How well we hold on to our opponents arm in case we fall and something goes wrong To which or how many of our opponents, charities we give to, or social groups we belong Nor what side of their political eagles shoulders we are flapping on No This is not the event where one runner runs for glory gains the gold medal and one soloist gets an award for best artist singing Their National Song This is a team effort Greater enslaved men and women have killed and died for lesser To run behind our people, in our “Race” for freedoms sake holding the stick of ambition and determination only to catch up with their own front runners and pass it on Yes This “Race” needs to relay How well we pass the baton If one runner falls, we pick him up and pass the Baton If another runner falls we pick her up and pass the Baton If another runner falls and so on we go on But not until our race is done We continue to pick our people up teaching each and every one of us how to, run’ our own “Race” without falling or having to say we’ve “slipped’” through the cracks And so on we go on Until the sound of the Starter pistol doesn’t have us scattering for shelter away from the tracks in fear of a gunner’s bullet being lodged in our backs And so on we go on Until the sound of the officials whistle isn’t a call for more troops to gather around our runners awaiting the signal to attack And so on we go on Until we have learned that to tie with those of whom have Beaten us at every turn in fact means we will never truly when our “Race” So to run for equality means we will always be running to meet the qualifications of another “Race” at a much slower pace Making the run for equality, a stumbling block cast before our feet, blatant stupidity, and utterly wrong Something of which we ignorantly insist on trying to accomplish or gaining the knack Implying that the proficiencies needed to stand as winners in first place of our own Race Are that in which we lack No By no means should this race be run Until the ability to act and respond as a unit is wholly and completely practiced and shown We pass the baton Until we have runners in place that will race to the finish-lined Up to receive the baton and are capable of competing at the highest level of every “Race” the world has ever known We pass the baton until we are at the beginning of our renewed race and every one of us is running along We pass the baton until we have a new Nation of our own We pass the baton until we all stand as a quire applauding each other for singing our own National song We pass the baton Until we are all united to stand as one people to race the finals and have won And can once again run our own “Race” Proud free and strong Yes I wish to Relay To all of my people the importance of sticking together as a team As we “Race” The Finals

Copyright © AC Benford | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by uriel wisdom | Details

Shakurspeare

They say I write magic 
like I was granted a wish from the genie in Aladdin
An stole Kazaam boom box an secret patent Latin verses from canibus
While using cannibus as incense listening to BOB Marley (jamming)

getting a (positive vibration) to (satisfy my soul)cause the (SON IS Shining )spitting (rebel music) while they (waiting in Vain) for me to (Simmer Down) cause I'm a (buffalo Solidier)in this (concrete jungle) holding a (small Axe) an they know I'm the One (who the Cap FITS)

I'm just waiting on this (Zion train) but it's all (One love) 
but it's (so much trouble in the world) in this (Babylon system) but I'm here to (stir it up) 

cause this a (real situation) but (YAH) Lives) and I don't want to see (no Woman Cry) but I got to (GET UP  and Stand Up)  so If I got to die before my time in this (Rat Race) they'll know who (Johnny Was)
 
So y'all better (hold ya head) 
cause it's (Misty in the Morning) when The (RUDE BOUY) wake up for (WAR) you'll all know (I shot the Sheriff) 
While you (stiff necked fools) was ( (fussing and Fighting) the (Iron Lion from Zion) was (coming in the cold) for a (ambush in the Night) 

So don't (dread) cause Yah forever loving) and I came prepared for this Fight 
 
I'm in (YAHS ARMY) with Scars on my Feet) (made in Africa) with a (rock heart stone) ready to (chase dem) cause we was all tied (tight in them ships)

(Can't down I) cause these (Iron Bars) (So Strong) now they know I'm the (Master Blaster) cause I paint the (Perfect Pic) 

(It was written) in the (revelation party) for the (land of promise) but (Africa got to wake up) that's why I'm in my (khaki suit) cause ( the tribes at war) I'm (there for you) )still searching)  but it won't be (more justice) but (no no no) while I'm holding dis spear) i ask myself (is it worth it)? 
 
But with(Patience) the (strong will continue) but for a (loaf of bread) they'll (set up shop) and they'll (Nail me Pon Cross) 

See I'm (true to myself) this a (personal revolution) cause (we are the people) who (makes the music) but I'll (never deny you) cause these (educated fools lost) 

Y'all want to be ( wild and free) with a (beach in Hawaii) then (tomorrow people) it all come (tumbling down)

 400) years an y'all still don't know how we lost our Crown

We the (Warriors) who give off (Royal Vibes)
 I pray for (New Heights) (One Time) but it's (many more roads) for (the March) cause (we the brave ones) the (keepers of the light) and without (No faith) we won't (get high)

I'm going ( all the way) cause I know (who we are) 

cause it ain't a (little to late) but it's (harder days) but we can (build together) (from on the floor) cause (YAH WORKS) cause when the (sun comes up) we all (sitting in the dark) on this one way train in (Babylons cookie jar)

(Arm your soul) cause we the (lions N the morning) An (YAH BLESS) the (children playing in the streets) I'm the (rebel in disguise) these (sugar pies) that (everyone wants to be) 

So (believe in yourself) because (love is the only law)

I was (laying in bed) then (what a plot) popped in my head to raise a (higher vibration) cause they got y'all thinking we the (small people) 
 
I (maintain) on my (2 feet) (waiting for the war) to (boom an draw) an (rock and swing) to (burn it down)(so bad) but it's not (all to me)

I'm the (living breed) (perfect ten) with a diamond (physique) an I had to polish the flaw

(Jerusalem) I (have so much to say) but the (sweetest thing) is we the (lost ones) of Zion and I'm trying to reach (every ghetto every city) 

To reveal the (mystery of iniquity)

This (divine sorrow) all this (violence in the streets 2 deep) (another bites the dust) into another sequel

In my (body) I (can do the work) so I'm (knocking on heavens doors) an (YAH) (grab my hand) and I say gimmie the light )so they can see

We the (Mighty Negus) an we got the FAVOR OF THE LORD (AMONGST the EVIL)

We the (Israelites) the (mighty Diamonds) an as long as This
(Fire burning )in this (burning Spear) Im going to keep jamming them until they see (Freedom Street)

Copyright © uriel wisdom | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by Elaine George | Details

PART 2 - Earthbound Angels Made of Stone - An Epic


Those evil thorns of bitterness
That couldn't bear to see
This child so loved and so adored
By their father
Captain Lee

Until one day in early May
When she went out to play
In  fields drenched in morning  dew
Above a wind swept Bay
While standing there
Out on a ledge
Above a sea of green 
With eyes cast down
In deep reflection
Upon that ship of dreams

T'was then 
Her brothers 
Only half
Stepped out beyond the pale
And took the life of Amber 
As her father's ship set sail

The child of Rose
And Captain lee
So cherished and adored
Her lifeless body
Found that morning 
On the Ocean floor 
Forever laid to rest in death
Beneath her mother's breast 
Her named refrained for years in vain
Cried through her father's pain

So many times in life
This Rose 
Had dealt with tragedy 
But this time 
She was dealt
A lifetime 
Sentence
Of grief 
Without reprieve

So...now alone with 
Hope and faith 
Nowhere in her sight
She drifted  in a fog of
Endless days 
And endless nights

A broken soul 
With only yearnings
For her little girl
A broken soul
Drifting
Through a cruel 
And lonely world

A soul so deeply steeped in
Endless grief and
Endless  sorrow
Chained to that tragic day 
With no wish
To see tomorrow

Until one day
When Rose laid down
Upon the brink of death
And watched those green leaves
Turn to amber
Kissed by autumn's breath
A breath that set a blazing fire
Deep within her soul
When that mighty tree
Found the strength
To finally let her children go

And...standing there
Before her now
Rose saw a tree 
With empty boughs
And in that moment realized
Those we love 
Will never die

That tree would bear
The cruel sting
That winter's breath 
Of ice would bring
To once again
Give birth
In spring 

So with faith and hope
Now at her side
She found again the will
To rise
To spread her wings again
And fly

~~~

For two more score
Rose closed the door
On that devil Tragedy
Reborn again
Found inner-peace
In spirituality

Loyal companion
And caregiver to
The ailing
Captain Lee
Who no longer had the 
Will to sail
Upon the endless sea 

He died a sad and broken man
Who finally came to understand
It was his son's 
Who bore the thorns
That left his heart and mind so torn
When they with
Greed and  jealousy 
Killed
The sweetest child
Ever born

But... Justice 
In its own strange way  
Had indeed 
The final say
When the sons of  Captain Lee
Went to the bottom
Of the sea
Downed by a fierce
Raging storm
That finally killed
Those bitter thorns
The day their father
Died

Coin and land 
And hearth and home
The Captain had bequeathed  
For she had stayed there
By his side
Long after she was free
In his final 
Will and testament
His one  good parting deed
Signed with a long repenting quill
And by the legal powers that be
He did in deed
In deep repose
Give it all to Rose

Rose now walked 
The streets of town
With grace and dignity
The richest women in the land
Thanks to Captain Lee

For two more score
With open door
Rose lived in tranquility
Her house dedicated 
To the legacy 
Of Captain Cannon Lee
Providing shelter to the poor
Abandoned women
And their babes
So grateful for the many lives
With the grace of God 
She saved

She died one day in autumn
When amber leaves fell from the tree
And was laid to rest
Beside her daughter
And the Captain Cannon Lee
Dubbed the Rose of Savannah
By those who knew her well
They came by the hundreds
To say their last farewell
Rose petals 
In shades of ebony
Were laid upon her grave
Each one in loving memory
For all the lives she 
Helped  to save

 ~~~

We dwell in quiet places
Where mortals sleep eternally
We earthbound angels made of stone
Keeping vigil for thee

Stone angels carved by human hands
In honor of the dead
Giving meaning to the path
Where mortals dare to tread

Written:  June, 2016
Author:  Elaine C. George of Canada
































Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details

Development Divas

Permacultural community development,
as if life matters,
presents optimal Continuous Quality Improvement (CQI) standards
for self-other-Earth regenerative 
and sustainable living outcomes.
That 7 Generation certificate of accomplishment.

Development Divas enjoy primal dynamic focus
on repurposing formations and reformations,
fractals and octaves,
full four-seasonal
"Time is a Recycling River" nutritional functions,
vocational "plant AND self-composting root system" financial guilds,
cooperatively beloved villages,
families with long evolutionary branches
AND Elder root systemic DNA structures and flex and flow-string patterns,
economies and ecologies,
eco-normics of ego-logy,
eco-logic of economics,
positive psychological relationships 
and truly communicating communities 
swimming and flying global networks of richly nutritious information,
polynomially balanced 4-dimensioned crystal clear fractals of spacetime,
mine,
yours,
ours,
Universal Common Orthodox Health Co-Intelligence.

Polyculturalists into planting and designing 
and harvesting optimized beloved polycultural climaxing outcomes,
swim time's river through positive teleological currents of dialogue,
discernment narrative,
designing syntax,
DNA codex,
creation's regeneration story,
psycho-conscious logos rooted in comprehensive co-gravity
of Self+Other history,
personal,
relational,
landscaped,
networked,
globally farmed,
universal,
herstoric enculturation of harmoniously balancing Right with Left,
(-)Yin(-)Yin as equivalent to (+)Yang
since "not not!" meant "Yes!"
and "black white" meant "both-and-matters"
bilateral time sprouting fractal spacetime of four equivalent dimensions
and systemic seasons and stages of development,
syntegrating yin-with-yin equivalent bipolarity binding-winding 
universal time's dipolar thermodynamic with electromagnetic bowing balance 
with centrifugally emergent binomial force of gravity,
ecological balance of harmonic solar systemic radiantly rich waving values
absorbed by a greening photosynthetic coredemptive metamorphic Earth,
and disvalues of dissonant decay, 
climatic change, 
autistic dismay, 
fear of death replacing all of life's remembering systems.

A logical conclusion of suicidal planning,
irrationality,
feeling internally overpopulated,
is to both stop absorbing positive nutrients--divestment,
and to begin a practice of absorbing only toxins
and collateral damage--high-risk investment,
self and other abuse acts faster than mere neglectful impoverishment,
marginalization,
suppression
oppression of identity,
the more aggressively and consistently aversive,
the faster our inevitable dead result.

So, the ecologic of diastatically positive and rational life
is to hunt and gather positive nutrients
and to minimize absorption of toxins
and collateral corporate insult,
injury,
abuse,
and neglect,
violence and dissonance,
addiction to victimization and possession.
Ego's self-mentoring lessons must seek co-mentoring
responsibility and accountability
investment and disinvestment for ecosystemic balance,
without anthro-centric hubris of possession or dispossession. 
To own any of this stuff cannot meet optimizing CQI well-being standards,
will not meet death's rebirthing threshold for cycling forward downstream.

Win-Win cooperative
coregenerative optimization
is an ecologically economic diva herstory of re-genesis,
just as Lose-Lose competitive decomposition
is our Business-As-Usual history
of dominating Self, Other, Earth,
pretty much in that disenculturing
disintegrative disorder of anti-systemic absence of time's flow.

Permacultural community development
as if we remembered
that white male lives could not have mattered
if Elder brown maternal lives had not repurposed DNA's
stretch toward freedom for inclusive Vitamin D prosperity.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Poet M.e. | Details

To Gregory Pardlo, Pulitzer Prize Winner

As soon as I heard 
You were the First African American Male
To win the Pulitzer prize for Poetry
I wanted to run out and celebrate
I wanted to wake up Hughes and Dunbar
And Baraka and say we made it
No one would have been prouder than Maya
She sold ten million books
And didn’t win a Pulitzer
And you win after selling one thousand-five hundred books
Surely this is even more incredible


They finally let us in their world of literature
After a hundred years
You did good Gregory
Our fourth Black Pulitzer prize winner in all
But the first African American Male
The more I stared at your picture I thought
My he looks Cuban or Chilean
And I read that your wife is from El Salvador
And Pardlo is far from a Black name
But that doesn’t really matter
Close enough
We made it
You are Black enough for me

I was so thrilled I ran
To read all of your poems I could find
And then my champagne glass tipped
As the pages of the poems flipped


Not shocked that none of the major articles
Mentioned you being an African American
More confused that you only mentioned it
In the context that the White media
won’t correctly honor you as they did Hughes
So an NAACP image award had to do
But I know you didn’t pick the Pulitzer
It picked you. Still I am happy for you.
You mentioned your battle with alcohol
And that your family was dysfunctional
Alcohol and dysfunction 
Are metaphors for African American
So again close enough


But not even that was my greater issue
I listened to you on You Tube
And the thing that made me gasp
Is that you could never read your poetry
To An African American fifth grade class
They wouldn’t understand your syntax
And would be lost in your anapest
Never get your personification
The more I listened the more I heard
Rita Dove again
The last time Africa America has heard from her
Well I can’t say when
But I am still happy you won the Pulitzer


For the next twenty years of your life
You will feature at Harvard near a Ghetto 
At Stanford near a ghetto
In Detroit and Chicago near Ghettos
But mostly White audiences will celebrate you
Because your sponsors
Don’t want to stop their cars in BedStuy
The very neighborhood you live in
And you will impress people with your
Iambic discourse
Of course

But city blocks away
In a ghetto dreary
Where the Halogen dreams burn dim
They will hear that the man of words
Has no words for them
And growing up in suburban Wilingboro
You will never write a PREFACE
You’ll Never know RIVERS
And you will never know why 
MALINDY sings
Or why the CAGED BIRD beats its wing
But still I am so happy that you won.

And assuming being an African American
Had something to do with you winning
Please be an African American
Be like Gwen and refuse 
Sponsorship from Taco Bell and Pepsi
Be like Langston or Baraka and
Get charged for being Un American
Or be accused of being crazy like
Claude McKay
Or even like Nikki and cuss somebody out
Even if you have to do it gracefully 
And even if you do it only once

I too am honored by your NAACP image award
And I know you will fight up there for more
African Americans to be included 
in the “86% White Publishing World.”
Please Mr. Pardlo remember that we just need more
Black people down here 
Just to be included in the eating world
And in the employment world
Please use your beautiful words for us too


And so I close with these words:
In the Guardian, you asked why
Black Writers are so Invisible to White people?
Well I say, If they don’t hear your poems
Or if they don’t see you or hear you
Far beyond the posh Harvard hills
There are forty million who will


2017 A Letter To Gregory Pardlo.. (Pulitzer)
Michael Ellis...

Copyright © Poet M.e. | Year Posted 2017

Long Poems