Race Poems | Examples

List of Member Poems

R.A.C.E. Reducing-Assigning & Corrupting-Existence

They ask me what is race —
I say: a border drawn in skin,
a lie that learned to breathe,
A wicked seed planted from within.


It’s not blood. Blood doesn’t know color.
It’s not bone. Bone doesn’t hold grudges.
It’s a story — told so long,
so loud, so often,
we mistook the telling for the truth.

Race is a costume
A made up competition
Of existence.
HIS-Story made us wear.
Prejudice is the cousin 
Of racism for they both go hand in hand.
 While they prevent every color and creed from coming together and joining hands.

Some days it fits like armor,
some days it cuts like wire,
but underneath it, every time,
is just a person
asking to be free
of the box somebody else built.

So don’t ask me what race is.
Ask what it costs.
Ask who it protects.
Ask why we’re still drawing lines
on a map that was never really there.

Premium Member And the Winner Is --

                One tiny slip of the tongue
                     decades of good deeds undone
        
                 As long as the race is still on
                      never declare that you’ve won

Cotton fields of hell in 1826.

Just touch these hairs in the back of my neck
i will see your face and pray you are just the last 
next to my bed, here you are reaching out,
stop touching me i am not yours!!

Take your clothes off and come to bed!
don't be so shy you are a good buy,
not as expensive as free  voices,
 not as cheap as kiss without thick lip,
color is my choice my blindness doesn't know.

Who are you let me touch your wrist
thin or thick i don't care at all who are you,
can i hear your voice just one time,
yes master I'm all yours let this be the lesson,
mute i might be, deaf it is what you are.
This is what the dream is all about,

if you scream i know because i can feel,
go ahead put your hand on my lips,
count the words on by one,
it feels like the first time,
white on black in the cotton fields.

Will anyone be responsible, 
who will pay, the scars are too deep,
another 200 hundred years,
maybe than justice will prevail
until then mute it is my best pill.


Drip

I ready my mark
Put my fingers just before the line
On your marks, the referee shouts

A bead of sweat drips down my face
Boiling the skin it touches
Leaving a moist trail behind it
Curls around my chin
Hanging in suspense
But it can't support its own weight
It falls

Falls in slow motion
It hits the track
Instantly evaporated against the track

The blank fires
My legs shoot forward
With each stride, my shoes dig into the rubber
I see the finish line
The lactate hits hard
My breathing is ragged and coarse
I can't give up now

My eyes go black
My brain shuts off

I wake up with rub burns on my face
But I finished first
Victory is mine

Outshined Light

The sun spreads its light, while the moon is at his height and uptight,

But the moon can’t bear the light, so the sun takes over his high height,

And yet you sit in your room, regretting why it wasn't your stage last night.

You're outshined once again, so you close your curtains to stay out of sight.

Now shadows created by a single candle are going to be your audience for tonight,

Don't rush the night, because it's not yet your time to spread your own light.

Premium Member Got No Rhythm, Got No Beat


           Chicago, Milwaukee, Minnesota
               Indian names of American fame

            Lake Winnebago, Mt. Moosilauke 
                Indian names, American Jabberwocky 

            LeBron, Te’Oscar and Shaquille
                Black Men, America’s athletic ideal

            Beyonce and Megan Three Stallion
                Black women, enticing hellions  

             Yet in the White House we get Joe and Donald
                 Next time, maybe ‘Pete’ 

             Those white names’ve got no rhythm
                 They’ve got no beat


Intelligent Race

Trying to understand 
all of the mysteries of the world -
all of the politics, the emotions.... 
become blurred. 
As humans we should know better
since we are supposed to be 
the most intelligent race, 
well if this is true then why are we promoting things
that are an udder disgrace?

Football

Football brings a people together,
A country's people unite,
And yet almost but not quite,
When race is a factor, hatred leads the fight,
A sport that supposedly brings together a nation,
Sure does like a bit of discrimination,
When a Black player scores -
The crowd roars,
When a Black player misses -
The crowd becomes malicious,
Fans become hypocrites,
And when the team needs support, all you hear is crickets,
Just racial remarks,
And racists embark,
To blame,
As an excuse to shame,
To hate -
And humiliate,
Black players who are the only reason their team is so great,

Premium Member Pattern Of One's Life 

P=People live their life one day,
A=After the other.
T=Tests come in different shapes and sizes.
T=Today will be gone soon,
E=Emerging a new day of challenges.
R=Ready to run the race to the end,
N=Never giving up, Amen.

Empty

All of it,
For nothing.
The pain.
The sacrifice.
The trauma.

Trading my soul,
For -
The acceptance I never got,
My old self,
She died for me -
And yet im still hanging off the cliff,
All that hardwork,
And the cost?
A life I sold -
Not all that glitters is gold.

I straightened out her kinks,
Dulled her sparkle, dulled the way she thinks,
So she could fit in,
So she wouldn’t have time to notice her differences,
Or compare herself to the white kids -
The sun is also a star,
And yet comparison took her ability to see it.

She tried to be perfect,
But perfection isn’t pretty,
And in the end she became just like the giving tree,
A helping hand that was left empty

Stand up speak up

Stand up.
Speak up.
But -
When it comes to a Black person -
You -
Just shut up
It’s funny how -
When it comes to us needing help,
Selective mutism is your only way out.

We fight the big fights,
Play the role of superhero - day and night,
We are heroes without the capes,
And yet when we need support, you hide behind the drapes,
Every other race is given grace,
But when it comes to us, no matter what we do - we are called a disgrace

When a Black person needs protection,
They see our skin, and - accuse us of seeking attention,
When we practice our right of self defence,
We are accused of a criminal offence,
Seen as criminal, for standing our ground 
Then we are seen as a danger to be around.

Stand up.
Speak up.
But not for a Black Person,
Stand up.
Speak up.
If you are not Black, they won't see you as criminally liable,
Stand up.
Speak up.
Not to defend us, just to label us criminals.

Impossibility

Justice or JUST US -
It seems to be - that this is NOT -
Just a trend, but a common thread,
To how things seem to work -
And no I'm not being woke,
Us Black people just seem to know,
How -
This world works.

We see with our eyes open,
They see with wilful ignorance,
Double standards become the white man’s self fulfilling prophecy,
A legacy -
Created to keep Black people in a state of misery,
In a state of unwanted complacency,
In a state of anxiety -
Of an unknown future,
Where self defence is a life sentence,
And being attacked is a death sentence

Justice was never for US,
Just for U -
Who?
Non Black people -
They get excuses,
We get damnation,
Their violence is proof - of abuse,
Our innocence - twisted to fit the narrative,
Damned if we defend ourselves, damned if we don't,
Either way we don’t get to go home,
A body bag or a prison cell?
Either option is a different version of hell.

Justice is not for us -
A Black person.
We do not get the privilege of impartiality,
Just the label of guilty,
Where the colour of our skin -
Meant justice was a case we would never win.

Police brutality

SLAMMED -
D
O
W
N,
To the ground,
C-R-A-C-K -
The only sound -
Made,
Knee on neck,
Blood blanketed the pavement,

STAY DOWN,
He did nothing wrong,
STAY DOWN,
His only crime was being Black,
STAY DOWN,
In the eyes of the police - it warranted an attack.

He could NOT speak back
He would NOT speak back
He can NOT speak back

Why?
He was DEAD,
Blunt force trauma to the head,
Slammed down with a cracked neck,
The police couldn’t care less,
No panic, no stress,
They know, without a doubt - they will get a not guilty verdict,
They are white with a badge - this means they are protected

The cycle repeats over and over again,
The cycle never ends,
And now police brutality -
Becomes their favourite trend,
And if they get caught they will claim self defence

Burn

burn it.
Burn it.
BURN IT.

All of it,
Every single system,
Every single institution,
Every single building, built by the blood of Black hands.

Violence was a language they understood -
All too well,
So fire is the message we send back
Peace was never an option,
When war was a crime forged against us -
The very people who built their empire.
Blood shackled hands,
Tear stricken faces of the ancestors,
Each tear drop the glue of each cement brick,
Every building burnt - an act of justice,
Every building burnt - a form of reparations 
Every system burnt, is justice served

Violence was the only answer -
To the oppressors acts of discrimination,
Of Black bodies strung, hung and burned,
Of every act of racism,
Of every Black person - murdered,
For the simple act of being Black in this world

What if they had lived?

What if they had lived?
What if?
Why couldn’t they live?
We will never forgive,
We will never forget,
What if they had lived?
And yet we will never get to see that happen.

Trayvon Martin,
Killed for skittles,
If he had lived -
He would have been a pilot,
If he had lived -
He would not have remained a kid

Tamir Rice,
Murdered for being a kid,
Playing with a toy gun -
All he did was have fun,
If he had lived -
He would be alive,
And for his family, his life was the most precious gift
If he had lived -
He would have been forever cherished

If all the Black kids,
Would not have been killed,
They would have lived -
They would still be breathing,
If they had lived the world would be a better place for it

Race Categories

Definition | What is Race in Poetry?

Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.

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