Poetry


This section is Dedicated to

Paul Laurence Dunbar

(June 27, 1872 – February 9, 1906)

Paul Laurence Dunbar was the first African-American to gain national eminence as a poet. Born in 1872 in Dayton, Ohio, he was the son of ex-slaves and classmate to Orville Wright of aviation fame.
 
Although he lived to be only 33 years old, Dunbar was prolific, writing short stories, novels, librettos, plays, songs and essays as well as the poetry for which he became well known. He was popular with black and white readers of his day, and his works are celebrated today by scholars and school children alike.

His style encompasses two distinct voices -- the standard English of the classical poet and the evocative dialect of the turn-of-the-century black community in America. He was gifted in poetry -- the way that Mark Twain was in prose -- in using dialect to convey character.
-The University of Dayton website for Paul Laurence Dunbar


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    Poetry: Modification Applies

    By Thomas Beckwith





     

    Modification Applies
    Wired intricately
    To inspire people,
    To solve the difficulty
    Of the true meaning
    Of life.

    By incisions,
    As the ideas
    Are examine closely,
    To see where each and everyone
    Fits together in life
    Like the jigsaw
    That was pieced together
    At Granny’s house.


    Little did we know,
    We were trying
    To place together
    The true meaning
    Of life.

    We were engraving;
    A path for the future,
    Where the color of our
    Skin would no longer matter.

    Connecting together as one
    Like the spirit, father, and son
    As we implement change
    To fix the destruction
    Of the forbidden past.

     

    The Fallacy of a Smile


    The Fallacy of a Smile
    By Community Change




    On a breezy day in a café,
    A man and woman sit passing pleasantries,
    They talk, they smile, they nod,
    Man departs, looking back…offering one last smile.


       
    Her face changes the moment the door closes,
    She’s sad, and more alone than just sitting alone,
    She didn’t tell him that she's carrying his child,
    Somewhere in between hello and several smiles,
    ….she decided to spare him the burden.
    His expression changed the moment the door closed,
    He looked back, but his tears blocked view of all reality,
    He didn’t tell her that he has AIDS,
    Somewhere in between pleasant glances and good-bye,
    …..he decided to spare her the pain.
    One breezy day at an uncovered grave,
    A pregnant woman peers down at a motionless man,
    They both have smiles on their faces,
    Man has departed, he is looking forward…offering one last smile.

    Running

     

    Running
    By Badilisho

     

    I work late hours and avoid going home,

    This is me running.
    		  
    I sit for hours surfing sites and chatting up duds,

    This is me running.

     

         
    I hit the mall staring down potential conquests,

    This is me running.

    		  
      I lay with no connection,

    Running.

    I avoid reading my bible,

    I ignore your calls,

    I ignore my conscious,

    I run.

    I beat myself up for loving you,

    I argue with my thoughts of togetherness,

    I dash away from silent rooms,

    I crowd my mind with noises and things to do,

    This is me running, away from you.

    		  
         

    Listening

     

    Listening
    Poetry by Badilisho

     

    I sit next to my air vent,

    Listening to him strum his bass,

    I have never seen his face,

    But I know the interpreter is masculine,

    Full of compassion,

    Intent.

    Each Sunday evening he entertains me with his interpretations,

    Slowly and continually I fall in love with a stranger,

    How could he know what chords to play,

    When to strum the lowly,

    When to pop hi-tones,

    When to wait on silence.


    I sit next to my forced breeze,

    Enjoying his expression like sugar on the palate,

    Never enough,

    I press my ear to the cold steel,

    Hoping that he would start again,

    He doesn't and I wait.

     

    		  

    So tired of hurting

     

    So tired of hurting






       
      You held out your hand to get to know me.

    To love me...

    To do nothing but make a fool of me...

    You lead me down your dark alley only to abandon me.

    You threw me away like I was yesterday's news.

    Was I not current enough?

    Not fresh enough?

    Or was I just another beautiful conquest?

    I'm sorry. I did my best.

    Clearly I still let you down.

    You taught me so much in such a short time.

    Thanks for showing me who you are.

    And with that, I chose to place my heart back in its vault.

    -locked

     

     

     


    Me

     

    ME





      I want love, I want happiness, I want to be a better man.

    Even behind the most beautiful paintings, flaws still lie.

    None of us are perfect.

    None of us are bland

    I want love, I want happiness, I want to be a better man.

    Rousheaun "Rudy" Reed


    I Am A Navy Corpsman

    I Am A Navy Corpsman
    by Mark A. Wright, HMC(SS) USN 




     

    I am a navy corpsman. I possess the stamina and enthusiasm of youth and the wisdom and experience of an old man.

    I am 3 parts doctor, 1 part nurse, 2 parts marine, 1 part yeoman and 3 parts mom, yet I am 100% sailor.

    I am unemployable to the civilian world in my given profession yet have been the very life line for countless marines, soldiers and sailors since 1778.

    I have carried marines from the battle field ... and have ben carried reverently myself by marines who mourned my passing like that of a brother or sister.

     

    I am young. I am old. brave, scared and scarred. my title has changed over the years: loblolly boy, surgeons stewart, pharmacist mate, hospital corpsman, IDC, yet with all the changes I am still simply know as "doc".

    I have celebrated peace; yet felt the sting of war on the seas, in jungles, in foreign cities, in Washington D.C. and on beaches of every shade of sand... white, tan, coral and black.

    I have raised hell on liberty; hope in the midst of battle .... and Old Glory on Iwo Jima.

    I have removed appendixes on submarines and limbs in the midst of battle and many other procedures far above and beyond what I am expected to do by the normal practice of medicine because it had to be done in order to save the life of a marine or sailor in battle or under the ice, far from a doctors care.

    I have ignored my own wounds to the point of death in order to stay at my station treating the wounded of my nations navy, marine corp, army and air force.

    I have the highest number of medal of honors of any corp in the Navy .....most of them presented to my wife, child or mother because I was already in heaven at the time.

    I am proud to know in my heart that every marine who has ever fought and every sailor who has gone to sea on ships owe their very lives to those they simply, yet respectfully know as "doc"

     

     


    A preview from the upcoming collection: "Son of Buddy and Pauline"

     Four poems by Adarro Minton. author of Gay, Black, Crippled, Fat!




    Dad I'm gay…(period)

    Instead of swinging his coarse blue-collar fists at me in antipathy and tossing my creased Lee jeans and red Pro-Keds into the ragged alley behind our fertile home; on Saturdays he drove me passed the pugilistic football fields in his masculine Cadillac car, to the tittering ballet studio where I learned to tuck my d**k and point my toes, and sat amongst the proud parents of girl-children watching me signify and finger snap.


    Please continue to Full Story

    "Waiting On You"


    "Waiting on You"
    by
    Jerome Whitehead





    You are not going to like what I have to say.
    Knowing you like I do, you won't even have a remote desire to take the slightest whiff
    From the banquet of my words.
    But this isn't about you - or it isn't JUST about you.
    This is about me…us…the we, we should've been.
    The seemingly unbreakable bond between father and son.

    I look in the mirror and sometimes catch a distant reflection of you, and just for a second…
    I drift back to a happier time when you were there - bigger than life…
    And I stood in awe of you…
    …in fear of you
    …had respect for you
    …but mostly, I just loved you.

    And in the haze of cigarette smoke and stale rum fumes…
    …me, my boys and the woman that gave me life vanished in the night…and for years I waited.


    Please continue to Full Story

    New Poetry Release Soul-Full by Leo Shelton

    The sopmore release, a follow-up to RHYTHMS - Poetry and Muse, SOUL-FULL is a love affair of two poets, through spritual connections...a love affair of words, deep, articulate and intense. An emotionally charged dialogue, that resonates both deep and true through the movements of words.

    More details at Tugson Press

    My Black Man

     
    My Man

    Written by Kimberly R. Lynon



     

    From the shortest strand of hair on
    his head to the very tiniest crease in
    his feet

    My black man is strong and complete
    The lusciousness in his lips
    and the strength in his hips

    My black man is ever bit of unique
    The seriousness in his eyes and
    even the tears when he cries

    My black man is a man of emotions
    And when he speaks everyone stops to
    listen because what he says is 'real'
    My black man is a man you can 'feel'

    His shoulders are strong,
    they can carry a lot of weight
    And when you need him
    My black man does not hesitate

    He speaks with knowledge and with
    confidence
    My black man is intelligent.
    He is a man of promptness and
    cares about time
    But the best thing about my black man is

    My black man is mine.

     

     


    Book Review: "In Search of Blackness" by Azaan Kamau

    The book is a poetic biographical journey from childhood to womanhood. Azaan feels that Spirit used her as a tool to share these words, so that the world would embrace and love all unconditionally.

    This book is emotionally charged from beginning to end with pain, love, passion, and triumph! This book gives voice to a collection of life’s stories, some through a child’s eyes!

    The poems express many things people feel or think, but don’t have the courage to say. The book is a vivid look into society and the world as a whole.


    In The Midst of My Blackness

    I know I come from a tribe of Queens.
    Strong women, teachers and warriors.
    I was told the stories of my mothers before me living to die.
    Freezing and sick in the stomach of a ship.
    Dehumanized by a whip and chains.
    Sacrificed life for the wealth of someone else.

    Blood of my mothers dripped in vain.
    Misunderstood arthritis-ridden knuckles.
    Losing count of yellow ape babies stolen at dawn.
    Starring at the noose from the porch,
    While shadows run from the hoods of the night.


    Please continue to "Full Story" for the entire poem.
    To purchase Click Here

    Azaan is a nationally syndicated journalist, poet, and photographer. She is the former Editor of SBC and GBF Magazines. Currently she is the Creative Director of the new STUD Magazine. Azaan has also written for numerous publications, and has two published books. Azaan is currently part of the Virgin Moon Entertainment Production team, an independent film and television company. Virgin Moon’s most recent film success is My Nappy Roots, a documentary about the African Diaspora’s relationship and spirituality with their hair. Azaan has shared her amazing poetry at several Underground exhibits at the prestigious Getty Museum. Azaan uses her writing as tools to educate, empower, and uplift all people. Azaan believes through knowledge and understanding there is no force that can oppress us.

    Huckabee on the Issues

    CNN YouTube Debate

    Former Arkansas Governor Mike Huckabee cited CNN's own poll results to bolster his claim that "some 48 percent of the African-Americans in my state did, in fact, vote for me," he said, noting that the figure "is unusually high for African-Americans voting for a Republican. Here's the reason why: Because I asked for their vote, and I didn't wait until October of the election year to do it ... I don't want to be a part of a Republican party that is a tiny, minute and ever decreasing party, but one that touches every American from top to bottom, regardless of race."



    The racial politics of the Confederate flag came up via an inquiry from Houston resident Leroy Brooks, who asked candidates if "this flag right here represents the symbol of racism, a symbol of political ideology, a symbol of Southern heritage -- or, is it something completely different?"

    Huckabee said that, "with the kinds of issues we got in this country, I'm not going to get involved with a flag like that ... The people of our country have decided not to fly that flag. I think that's the right thing."

    He also used his answer to take a shot at Democratic candidate and former senator John Edwards.

    "Every time I listen to someone like John Edwards get on TV and say there are two Americas, I just want to -- I just want to throw something at the TV, because there are not two Americas. There's one America," Huckabee said. "We are a nation united. We face extraordinary challenges right now. And Democrats dividing us and tearing down this country are doing exactly the wrong thing. We're succeeding in Iraq. We've got tough challenges. We can overcome them. But we do not need to have that kind of divisive talk. And that flag, frankly, is divisive, and it shouldn't be shown."

    Source link

    Spirits of Free

    Please continue to full story for the remainder of this poem

    Doin it well

    It was just today, when I found out That life is short We all shall die, but I'm not scared Not going to cry But I'll take some time To ease my mind And live it like there isn't much time, right Left behind if I don't try To do it while I still have time To smile a bit, and cry too We gots to cry sometimes, even men and that's the truth We find ourselves caught up in lies The roads weren't paved the same with time The roads we take are not the same We all take roads of different names Some roads we take are point and blame Some roads are even hide in shame To bear false witness and play the game To appease man-Ain't that a shame? Oh yea, I sing, I dance-I do it all I hurt, I pain and sometimes fall I apologize and make the first call When I am wrong Cause I won't hold it on myself And, if you do-Ask the Lord for help To remove yourself from thinking that You're always right-cause sometimes you so left Behind, in your thinking and in your ways I'm praying too there are better days To come, even better than this I'm the victor over my life not his And I won't be bound by lies and strife Or self-destruct or close my eyes I'll live it open completely wide And walk with assurance and in stride I live in abundance and with pride With these gifts I've been given I won't second-guess What He has for me it is for me Not for the rest So I have to stand strong and give my best It's timeout now for anything less And, I won't apologize for this man I be The man you see is not all you see My crown is in my brown My locks flow like the glistening falls of Niagara With secrets on the inside Boundless in its spirit with stories of gold to tell I won't sit with you in your Hell If tha's where you chose to be I won't take that road with you-you see I don't live the negativity I stand now expecting reparations and reciprocity But reparations not so much in the dollar bill But a day when man will Realize if it won't for me America, would not be the force she be And I'm not complaining; so don't assume that about me Cause you know they say assume is to make an ass outta u and me When I spit-When I sing-When I dance I do it completely Turn up your volume now so that you can hear me We are not all this, we are not all that I stand with a smile and a pocket tha's not fat But patience that only time will tell I fight on and I'm doin it, doin it and doin it well!!! kashan©

    Chocolate

    Poetry from the soon to be released - Soul-full

    Validated, and solidified
    Vilified, and justified
    Suffocated but flowing like oxygen
    Take it all and leave nothing
    Leave nothing but air by sides

    Continue to full article for the remainder of this poem

    Remember

    Do you remember what it was like?
    You know, when your eyes met and you KNEW something was up…
    Something special – something rare.

    When you exchanged that very first glance or that hidden smile that only you could see.

    Ummmmmmm.

    Do you remember when you finally got the courage (or the nerve)…
    …to say something – anything, and prayed to God that it came out right
    …and you didn’t sound (I don’t know) stupid maybe?

    Continue to full article for the remainder of this poem

    I Talk To You

    No one really wants to hear when you ache so deep inside
    That sometimes it hurts to breathe
    Very few want to take the time to wipe away tears…
    …tears that have fallen, dried and fallen in a silent, silver cascade.

    Don’t get me wrong, they mean well.
    They want to want to hug you…
    …and make it all go away.
    As long as it can be done in ten minutes out the day.

    Continue to full article for the remainder of this poem

    We Have Risen

    We come from various shades…

                As light as the sun rising over the mountains in the east

                To the rich, dark flavor of mother earth.

     

    We are descendants of kings and queens

                That ruled over terrains of the world not yet touched by man.

     
    Please continue to the full article for the remainder of this poem


    You

    You’re like a fine line that separates me from my spirit
    Almost like there’s a part of me that’s floating…free-falling

    …wanting to lose myself in you
    And the other part is grounded – on lock down – afraid to feel because I want to feel.


     

    Please continue to full article for this remainder of the poem


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