Long Civil rights Poems
Long Civil rights Poems. Below are the most popular long Civil rights by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Civil rights poems by poem length and keyword.
It was a year of revolutions
Worldwide, quiet little fights
Wanting more from democracy?
Fighting for Civil Rights.?
From Hull three trawlers sank
February, fifty eight lives lost,
Adding to that 10 thousand
Deep sea fishing would finally cost.
They called them Headscarf Heroes
Big Lil lead the housewives, the few
Who stood and fought for
More safety for the crews.
They marched on Downing Street
In defence of their men
Met with PremierHarold Wilson
Up there at Number 10;
United the fishing community
All over the land,
Brought the fight to the public,
Made an historic stand
To fight for basic safety
To fight for better ways
For the men who fished each year
On average over three hundred days.
She was vilified and attacked
Received letters threatening death
But BIg Lil and her companions
Fought with their every breath.
They won many concessions
At their personal cost
The efforts of these ladies
Saved many lives from being lost.
The fishing fleet is finished.
Old Hessle Road is gone.
In time and at a price
This City has moved on.
Such an historic figure
I find it such an awful shame
So very few know or remember
Big Lil and the others names
Lillian Bilocca 1929 - 1988 and the Headscarf Revolutionaries, Christine Jensen, Mary Denness, and Yvonne Blenkinsop,
with respect
I shall remember you when
night crawls under day
dressed up in sunshine and
colorful hues I shall remember
you in every single book I
read catering to the fundamental
findings craving thought like
Langston Hughes I’ll fondly
remember civil rights field
trips dancing through cattails
in the woods wandering
between dandelion patches
and rows of daisies peeking
through cedar slats nestled
upon a garden nook I dig the
magnificent magnitude of our
telepathy designs of hope
courage and joy I will always
remember your smile opening
the window letting fresh air
inside a dull dim room something
about William Butler Yeats
Yolande Giovanni something
about me black power rings
the subtle warmth of the
voice of dignity human need
to express one’s own abilities
communicate with all walks
of life we are who we are
I thank you for giving me
encouragement my humble
beginnings I shall see you
tomorrow in paradise sunshine
In loving memory of Nikki Giovanni
the paper burned quietly,
no fireworks,
just a thin sick smoke
curling up from the courthouse steps
like a tired prayer nobody meant.
and the people kept walking
because hunger doesn’t wait for laws
and rent doesn’t care about ideals.
without that old spine of rules,
the street learned new muscles—
fists instead of words,
boots instead of ballots,
sirens instead of sentences.
a man got taken in the alley
for saying the wrong thing
to the wrong uniform.
no charges, no record,
just an empty chair at breakfast.
the churches filled up fast,
the jails faster.
every promise needed a gun to back it up,
every job needed silence,
every silence needed fear.
the rich hired walls,
the poor learned shadows.
rights became a rumor,
like a clean river
or an honest deal.
you could still drink yourself blind,
still fall in love with the wrong person,
still wake up wondering where it all went wrong—
but now there was no place
to point your finger
except at the sky
or at the man with the badge
or at the mirror.
and the mirror wouldn’t testify.
so people learned to whisper again.
they learned to look down.
they learned that power
likes an empty room
and hates a crowd.
freedom didn’t vanish in an explosion—
it leaked out slow,
through boredom,
through fear,
through men who said
“this is just how it has to be now.”
and that was the worst part:
not the chains,
not even the blood,
but how ordinary it all felt
after a while.
like bad weather
you stop complaining about
because it never moves on.
Born into a privileged position
The Gracchi and Kennedys were on a mission
A violent end was to be their common fate
With vested interests full of rage and hate
Their new programmes threatened the status quo
And prompted the dealing of the killer blow
Centuries apart, they both wanted reform
Championing the poor brought to them great harm
If the Gracchi's progressive plans were to win the day
The senate felt its power would pass away
Land reform and franchise extension the ruling class could not tolerate
They feared the concilium plebis would carry too much weight
Allowing tribuni plebis to gain too much power
Crucial steps were needed by the senate at this critical hour
Violent deaths turned out to be the Gracchi's lot
The people lost what they had sought
History is oft claimed to be repetitive
The Kennedys' careers were closely imitative
A crackdown on crime and improving civil rights
Panicked those who opposed such fights
Where the Kennedys heralded an era of hope
Those under threat from this programme could not cope
Their death warrants were signed for what they stood
Both were gunned down vengefully in cold blood
In each instance when their hopes died
Politics rode roughshod over the people's pride
A brighter future for those in need of care
Was ended by vested interests' callous warfare
babies
aborted babies
couldn't breathe either
writhing about in saline seas
but not a peep from anybody
no riots-no burning cities
no angry mobs stomping (P.A.) avenue
dead babies never make for good news
no viewers-no ad revenue
dicing babies
harvesting body parts for profit
is dirty business
even for dirt bag clinics and politicians
millions of dead babies without graves
never given a name
not a peep from the drones or their royalty
peep-less in the chop city of Sea(battle)
peep-less in the big rotten apple
peep-less in Cali(horn)ia
no civil rights
for babies
millions of babies
saline babies
I can't breathe
babies
We decided to visit the largest sand dune in Florida
it was well within our reach
just a few miles drive from where we were camping
at a place called American Beach.
And we saw the largest sand dune in Florida
which of course is what we went there for
but in visiting American Beach
we got the sand dune…and so much more.
There was a time, a sad time in our history
one part of some of our darkest days and nights
When African Americans were allowed to swim in the ocean…
just not allowed to swim there with the whites.
Abraham Lincoln Lewis wanted his employees to have a beach
so American Beach was created
giving African Americans a place to swim
all-be-it to swim segregated.
For many years American Beach thrived
until segregated beaches were needed no more
when the Civil rights act was finally passed…back n 1964.
The sand dune is all that’s left of American Beach
that and a few trees and grasses swaying in the breeze
but also posted at the site are some photos
of children, of churches and families.
When you see these pictures…when you look at the dune
and think of where all these African Americans sat
you think to yourself…children and churches and families
it doesn’t get any more American than that!
And you wonder as you see these segregated African American families
In frame after frame after frame
If there will come a time in this country
where all people see all people the same.
So as we stood near the largest sand dune in Florida
and were reminded of the wickedness of Jim Crow..
we prayed we never make the same mistakes again
that we made only a short time ago.
THE MANY SPEAKSIES JAZZ SESSIONS BLACK PANTHER DAYCARE BREAKFAST PROGRAM CIVIL RIGHTS RIOTS WITH MY FATHER GROWING UP IN CHICAGO I WAS BORN IN THE MIDDLE OF THEE COLDEST BLIZZARD IN CHICAGO ON SAM COOK'S BIRTHDAY THE BEGINING OF THE YEAR OF 1963 MY DAD DOTED ON ME SINGING I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU ALL OF MY LIFE AFTER RETURNING HOME FROM EUROPE FACE TO FACE WITH BEING EMOTINALLY TRAUMATIZED TO WEARING WIRES PREGNANT FOR THE FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATIONS ARLINGTON HEIGHTS ILLINOIS MY DAD WAS VERY CONERNED ABOUT ME AND MY FOUR LITTLE CHILDREN I MOVED IN BACK HOME TO THE GARDENS WITH HIM 1989 AFTER MY NONA DIED OF A STRANGE BRAIN CANCER MANY OTHERS WERE DYING AS WELL EVEN INFANTS BORN WITH BRAIN TUMORS LUNG PROBLEMS I REMEMBER AS A CHILD I WAS VERY SICK EVERYTIME I WENT TO THE GARDENS SOMETHING ABOUT REACHING 131ST I WOULD VOMIT ALWAYS SO SENSITIVE TO TOXIC FUMES NO ONE COULD PREDICT WHAT WOULD BECOME OF THE PEOPLE OF ALTGELD GARDENS IT WAS THERE SINCE 1945 AFTER POP RETURNED FROM WW11 I SUPPOSE ALTGELD GARDEN WAS BUILT UNFORTUNATELY THE GARDENS WAS A DUMPING GROUND OF TOXIC CARCENGENIC CAUSING CANCERS MY DAD WAS SO DISTRAUGHT HOW MY NONA COULD LIVE BEING BLIND ALL THESE YEARS AND OUT OF NO WHERE BRAIN CANCER WE ALL WERE IT WAS 1988 HER PASSING WAS DEVESTATING 1126 E 131 STREET NOW MY CHILDREN AND I WERE BACK 1989 IN THE GARDENS MANY REPORTERS TO LAW GROUPS HEALTH DEPARTMENT IT WAS THERE WE ALL SIGNED THE PETITIONS TO REMOVE THE ABESTOS TOXINS FROM ALTGELD GARDENS RESIDENT ISSUES MY DAD AND I WERE BLESSED TO HAVE THE CHANCE TO SIT AND TALK WITH BARACK OBAMA COMMUNITY LEADERS SIDE BY SIDE FIGHTING FOR ENVIROMENTAL CHANGES AIR QUALITY IN LOW INCOME COMMUNITIES THESE ISSUES WERE VERY IMPORTANT ISSUES TO MY FATHER AND TO MYSELF PENNILESS LAWSUITS WERE FILED SETTLEMTENTS AS WELL THE LOSS OF LIFE THE BROKEN DOWN QUALITY OF LIFE JUST BY LIVING AND BREATHING AIR IN THE DONUT DISTRICT TODAY I HAVE PULMONARY ASTHMA REMEMBERING MY FATHER FIGHTING FOR ENVORMENTAL JUSTUCE IN LOVING MEMORY OF MY NONA LIKE AN INFANT DEVELOPING BRAIN TUMORS WHILE BEING A LONG TIME RESIDENT OF ALTGELD GARDENS
The flower children were in full swing, selling love, less woe.
I was not old enough for Woodstock, but wanted to go.
Hip hugger bell bottoms with navels peeking were the rage.
Boys were sent to Viet Nam, with high hopes, a surprising page.
We thought they would be back in seconds, not understanding at all.
We were innocent, sheltered, naïve, young, following no real call.
In the sixties clothing was groovy, we were allowed stripes and flowers.
Dots and stripes too, were the norm, which was just one of our powers.
White go-go boots, thanks to Nancy Sinatra’s Boots Made for Walking.
So many school lunches, where everyone was doing the talking.
Our hair was poofed up like a poodle, in the top we put a little red bow.
It might have been blue or pink, but it had to be put there just so.
We had transistor radios, and push button phones, attached to the wall.
We thought we were high tech, which now seems quite weird after all.
Dr. Martin Luther King was making his Dream speech and JFK got shot.
Not worried at all; my life was easy, in the Midwest, a tiny polka dot.
The Beatles had the first five spots in the favorite hits of the week.
I was playing “I want to hold your hand”, it was Paul that I’d seek.
Women were wearing hats and gloves, which seems silly now.
But Jackie Kennedy was setting the style, which was usually a wow.
USSR’s Valentina Tereshkova was the first woman in space.
Ku Klux Klan bombed a Baptist church, a horrible disgrace.
Zipcodes, lava lamps, and pull tabs were new at this time.
Civil rights an issue? I was more aware of a Ford Mustang in lime.
A gloomy song unfolds
Amid the chants for rights
Yet freedom wasn’t handed
Like centuries before .
Generations has emerged
And slavery has long been abolished
Left behind the scenes ?
Is it now a Modernised suppression ?
Same old routine that circles through many areas
Of our everyday life.
Relentless shaming and racial profiling ,
whitewashing history and institutionalized racism.
I have read,
Of bloody days and humiliating nights
Where black folks were oppressed and hanged.
I’ve seen and heard of the police brutalities happening everyday
And how black folks are shot and abused,
choked, and murdered in plain sight .
siblings are dying
Others are being caged
Some have been disadvantage by the system
Their kids now grow up with no mother and father figures .
Black lives matter: where did Arlington sterling go wrong ?
Black lives matter: Philando Castile’s baby saw it all in falcon heights
Black lives matter: may Gardner’s soul rest in power
Black lives matter ,the ghost of Trayvon still hovers around….
As we still march for change
For civil rights reforms wasn’t enough.
A black president wasn’t either
21st century couldn’t make the difference neither.
Black lives matter; please I can’t breathe
Black lives matter; the disparities in sentencing
Black lives matter ;Remembering Sandra Bland
Black lives matter ;risking whatever to protest for change.
As the carte blanche police watches on !
Amid the chants and the rage
Year 2020! facade equality lingers on
And Justice is still missing like centuries before,
In this land of the free .
Black History is Our history
Black History is American history
Black History is World history
Black History is The history
Black History IS History
Although it is celebrated in February, Black history is not just a month, it is every day history.
Black History is a reflection of the segregation and discrimination and the sacrifices and struggles for our freedom for justice and equality.
It reflects how far we have come, from where we were to where we are.
Black History is History. It is written by “We the People,” and in case you didn’t know, we are part of the “We.” Our story matters and our ancestors stories matter.
So no matter how much they want to have “selective memory” and try to dismantle or impose restrictions, take away fundings, or pick, choose or limit how much (if any) is being taught about Black History, it is our job as parents, grandparents, leaders and people to teach our children, nephews, cousins, friends and others about “Our” history.
Black History is History and it’s not just up to the teachers to tell our history. With that being said, parents, Be the change! Teach them at home, individual, in group settings… take them on field trips to museums, monuments, parks, take them on a bus ride, show them videos and books… By doing so, we are allowing the history (our history) of our civil rights leaders and ancestors to be remembered as their sacrifices for our freedom was not in vain.
Black History was then, is now and will forever be a part of history.