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Best Poems Written by Angela Brown

Below are the all-time best Angela Brown poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Truce

Truce, written by Poet Angela Khristin Brown

If I were to tell you
 what someone told me, 
I might miss a detail or two.
I hold inside broken dreams,
 broken lies, 
broken promises I step aside.
Black and white
Im rage, love and hate
 like two birds in a bush. 
With all the rage and madness
What am I left to do.
Thoughts of suicide, 
race through my mind
from time to time
I racing time.
Black and white
I heard the rumors
A thousand times
I ain't goin no where,
I break down in cry.
My tears flowing
into the river of life.
Black on white
building blocks of promise
we live in fear
danger is near.
Black and white
I'm afaid of the dark
I can not trust
I do not know
this course of history.
Black and white
have become the colors
no one understands.
we are in troubled waters
pointing at words of blame
at one another 
waiting in the waters of pain
you hating me
I am not like you
I hating you
You don't know me
well enough to spread 
those rumors.
Black and white
in all hatread
love and war
the rumors spread
 got our feelings hurt,
by the words being shared
in truth and dare,
we are both confused
and unaware,
we failed to forgive
we dared to learn to channel our hate
in goodnes and health
we build these walls
we made these walls
we bcome these walls
we tear down these walls
we rise, we fall
life is not a game
we  love, we hate 
one in the same
I must define my purpose
with the words needed to say

letting go

Details | Angela Brown Poem

Our Hips

Much homage to our hips
hips that did not give in
Lipton tea, kool-aid, lemonade
was the sin I live in
hips stuffed with gin
fried pork chops, fried okra
proud of the skin I'm in
turnip greens with turnips
hot water cornbread is the beauty it holds
season fried chicken and lima beans
fried green tomatoes, cream corn
and rice pudding potato fries
images of smiles and laughs
races of people ancestors proud
fried fish, skillet corn bread, and spaghetti
mac and cheese, red beans and rice
secrets of my babies taken from me
and stolen dreams from my past
I hold on to broken memories
of being misunderstood
rumors tease and hold on
are no good
the ancestors singing
the legacy stands
with the Lord above
holding my hand
my hips is the Mississippi river
that holds the water down deep
that keeps me going my heart pumping
from regret holding on tearing me down
where the summer kept me from harm
my hips taunt freely with grace and pride
race of women who could have died
while giving birth erased, removed from regret
much homage to our hips
of sweet nectar that breeds
a race of fine men and women
babies that add to the family legacy
I grasp my hips in solitude
of emotions and of pride
my ancestors gave before me
my hips are grandma's hips
mamma hips, auntie's hips
great ganma hips, nieces hips
cousins hips that say please
take it easy don't tease me
but please our hips with
the Lord blessing us with
hips that give birth to a nation

Details | Angela Brown Poem

Must Be the Music

16-inch records
8 track tapes
cassettes and Cd'
The sound of music played
on my high-fi recording machine
I was 6 years old
listening to Aeron Nevel
'Siting on the Dock of the Bay'
played Marvin Gaye
could sing every word
'Let's get it on'
was the word on the streets
everyone heard
the records played the Temptations
I knew very well
The sounds of Lionel Richie
was so cool, the Commodores ruled
I remember listening
to Glady's Knight and the Pips
'A Long Way to Georgia'
had come to this
The Soul Sisters had reminded me
the lyrics, 'We are family'
Jimmy Hendrick could play the drums
then there was Aretha Franklin
'Yellow Catalac' and Chakka Con
would sing 'I feel for you'
and the sound of music played on and on
Gillispie, Davis and B.B. King
listening to the greatest jazz ensemble
I swayed to the sounds of Nat King Cole
played the greatest notes on an album
from Smokey Robinson
I felt the notes as the songs played
I heard every word
of Bary White deep voice
of every word said
the music played
Funkadelic tunes stood in my head
my imagination would play a tune
I listened to Pattie Label sing on and on
the rhyme and rhythm of Marvin Gaye
as it played with my moods
I closed my eyes to the Syalitics
I opened my heart Rebbie Jackson
as I fell in love with old school music
the voices in my head silenced
as I listened to Miles Davis play on and on
I listened to the old school sounds
as the music played on and on

Details | Angela Brown Poem

Rap

a good rap song
carries a beat
foot tapping
fingers snapping
it is all about the base
about the base
and the drums

rap lyrics are behind the phrase
do not understand the street language
most know the words to re-phrase

rap is broken down knowledge
of ghetto blues
mixed with underground hip hop
Reggie, soul, and r & b tunes
talking all the jive
with an attitude of street poems
you can feel because you relate to it
keeping the words real

rap is our strength
the voice of the people
knowledge is power
a spoken word poem recited
to Reggie, soul, jazz, and r & b tunes


rap is the word up
straight out of the hood
rap, the wisdom of words
rap, words of peace
rap, the words of poetry
about our peoplea good rap song
carries a beat
foot tapping
fingers snapping
it is all about the base
about the base
and the drums

rap lyrics are behind the phrase
do not understand the street language
most know the words to re-phrase

rap is broken down knowledge
of ghetto blues
mixed with underground hip hop
Reggie, soul, and r & b tunes
talking all the jive
with an attitude of street poems
you can feel because you relate to it
keeping the words real

rap is our strength
the voice of the people
knowledge is power
a spoken word poem recited
to Reggie, soul, jazz, and r & b tunes


rap is the word up
straight out of the hood
rap, the wisdom of words
rap, words of peace
rap, the words of poetry
about our people

Details | Angela Brown Poem

Old School

afro puffs, the shag, devil's tail, Jerry curls
bamboo, hoop the loops, hooked earrings
died jeans, Calvin Kline, torn denim slacks
tank tops, overalls, guess who jocks
jelly beans, crayons, baby doll shoes
penny loafers, Stacy Adams, patin leather shoe
niker bockers, kangoes, safari pants
gauchos, capris, skinny and wide leg dress
plaids, pin stripes and the colored dress suits
thin ties, ribbons, and bows uniform blues
hanker chiefs, scarves and pin jewelry clasps
beaded braids, corn rows, and tie died t's
Adidas, Nikki, k-swiss, e-spirit tennis shoes
driven 44's low riders with shocks that bounce
fast cars, fast women, and sports
madonna, prince, and Michael Jackson toons
Aretha, Funkadelic, and Marvin gay soulful blues
ll cool j, ron dmc, will smith and salt and pepper, cool moe d
rap music, r and b, soul music and the hip hop dream

Details | Angela Brown Poem

Girlfriend

you wore large hoop earrings
and platform shoes
plaid gouchoes
a white shirt with a butterfly collar
standing at the corner
sucking on a lollipop
you bought at the candy lady
in the hood, it's all good
'singing we are family'
the girls were blood sisters
with a bad attitude about life
and candy doll shoes
you wore twisted braids
hair lightly pressed
with a long bang
baby hair neatly meshed
girls hung out
speaking of good old times
dreaming of boyfriends
on the corner singing old school rhymes
boy playing a boom box
playing Shaka conn rhymes
I'm feeling you, cause I love you'
the poetry echoes in the girl's minds
Luther Vandross reminds me
of the very first time
the first boy I kissed
how he held me in his arm
I reminisce, our lips pressed
how he touched my heart
I fell in love

Details | Angela Brown Poem

Imagery

Imagery of Racism, by Poet Angela Khristin Brown

Eyes wide shut, 
I can see the dead caucuses
 of ash and dust mites eating at my flesh.
 I have become the old tired drunk suicide.
 My bones aching and tired 
of reasons to move, to communicate, 
expand and move on.
 Images of decayed rusted and 
starving dreams die. I age with desire 
of being strong. Weak and tired, 
I am holding on. One eye shut, 
I can feel the voices 
peeling away my flesh, 
letting go, holding on, 
wanting to be loved. 
The voices stitch the seams 
of my soul, moving on from the dark 
to discover hope. 
The trumpets playing 
their musical ensemble,
 pa pa papaya pa pa, pa pa pa,
 pa pa, pa pa. Light pierce through 
the wounds of joy.
 Echoing sounds before my dreams. 
I’m not asleep yet.... 
We are within a storm 
facing a struggle over. 
I fail, I rise, I fall, I stand tall.

Details | Angela Brown Poem

Hot Comb

Saturday night,
Mom washed my hair
Deeply conditioned
She wrapped a hot towl
Over my head
and blow dryed my hair
with a comb and a brush
Mom took the time to part my hair
piece by piece she would greese my scalp
section by section she rubbed the greese in
With weak tired hands

Early in the wee hours
of Sunday morning before church
I sat in the hot kitchen
Next to the stove burner
With balls of sweat rolling down my cheek
As Mom took hot comb
From off the burner fire
Held the wooden handle
and pulled the hot comb
through my thick cotton like hair
my thick nappy negro hair
section by section she greesed the hair
before burning each strand straight
Until the ends would flip in the air
like I was born with good hair


Mom would pull my hair back
and comb it into a pony tail
I wore ribbons down south
the ribbon with a bow
part of Mississippi culture
with my white Sunday dress
Black patent leather shoes
and white gloves
I was prepared for church
In preparations to meet God

Details | Angela Brown Poem

What's Up

What’s Up, by Angela Brown

What's Happening?
What's Up Wit Us?
What's Going down?
What do you do with a broken heart? 
I do not know how it came to this..
 My heart opened, exist to resist. 
My sanity has drawn the line.
 Love and hate, my love is color blind. 
Wrong skin, wrong color, wrong gender - 
I have this problem. 
The problem nearly killed him.
 Afraid to walk in his shadow, 
with the idea of being afraid. 
Wrong colors, wrong skin, wrong age, 
wrong gender. Afraid of loving him.
 I should be crazy to love this man. 
I thought, I should have been the one, 
before me, before I leave, 
with him telling me, 
love lost its meaning, 
loved divided us, defined us, 
destroyed us.  
I should have been the one, 
telling him who I am, 
who I will to be, 
will to be strong, feelings I do not belong,
 I do not know why love hurts so bad. 
Scandelous walls divide us, deny us, hide us. 
raped, my identity stolen, my heart broken. 
Eliminate the pain inside, 
when you took my child, 
I want to die, 
My last will gone, wrong, 
done might cost me
 my life. Ice me, slice me. 
Burn me eternally. an inferno of love.

What do you do with a broken heart?
 I do not know how it came to this.. 
My heart opened exist to resist. 
My sanity has drawn the line. 
Love and hate, my love is color blind.

Details | Angela Brown Poem

America

Do you know the meaning of the word "N"
Did history divide us because of our skin?

Greatness begins from within by character
Not by the color of the skin
But by what is inside of him
And from of his talents, skills, and knowledge,

Where does the battle of innocence begin?
Does that mean I can no longer have different race friends?
I no longer have the personal freedom to dream?
I bottle up feelings of being mistreated?

When a child calls me a "Niger"
He believes I am inferior
When a child is taught to hate himself
The parents and teachers wage wars
That teaches kids racial ignorance

What makes a man better is
when he learns to find his purpose
Not to be judged by the skin he is in
Nor to be treated wrong because he is different

Man fails to understand what he does not know
Life experience gives a child a chance to grow
When a child loses his self-esteem
He loses his will to live


Teaching hate causes illness
People can die from mental illness
Teaching to forgive and love each other