Archive for category Poems

Poem: Dance


Dance my little black angel, dance

Dance right on to your dreams

Move and slide past the obstacles

Jig your way to the top

Listen to the music inside of you my little black angel

Follow the tune of your heart

Stomp on the doubt that may try to appear

Because you will be great my little black angel

Just dance right on to your dreams.

Written By, Yours Truly



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“It’s beautiful to be black.”
It is the color of strength and pride.
I will say it out loud. I don’t have to hide.

I love me, and the color that I represent.
Look at me, there is nothing like it.
What you see is not an illusion.
It’s a gift from GOD, don’t ever confuse it.

“It’s beautiful to be black.”
It is the color of fame and envy.
If I wasn’t black, I wouldn’t be me.

Black is the color of power and authority.
It is so outstanding, thank you LORD for blessing me.
I’ll shout it to the world, I’m proud of what I am.
Those who are in vain will never understand.

“It’s beautiful to be black”
It is the color of confidence and style.
I have been blessed, by my ancestor from the Nile.

I am scenic from the inside out.
These verses are true, I don’t have any doubt.
There is no one who can change my mind.
Black has been beautiful since the begging of time.

“It’s beautiful to be black.”
It is the color of honor and grace.
This is one thing that cannot be taken away.

By Chara NyAshia Sanjo

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The Color Black

As I was looking for a poem to show my pride
I saw some things that made my black skin want to hide
They take the proud color of black and turn it into lies
With the junk that fills our people’s minds

Black is the color of blindness
In which my dark path seems
Black is the color of darkness
In which I may not see

Black is the color of a blood sucking crow
And it is a color most people don’t know
Black is a color of an evil panther
And that’s the color of my ancestors

Black is the color of coal
A substance that is worth as much as gold
Black is the color of the night
In it I see the stars to bright

Black is the color of power
Black is the color of my desire
Black is the color that set us free
Black is the color of my beauty
Black is the color of my skin and
Black is the world I believe in
Black may be the color that gets you down
But black is the color that makes me proud

Magdala Compere

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Perfectly patterned particles
push perpetually,
emerging: emancipated, elated,
Pushing proudly
up through layers upon layers of denial.
Past denaturing chemicals
and excessive heat;
curls emerge: triumphant.
Blatant refusal
to be ignored.
Blatant defiance of standards.
Despite countless chemicals
and incessant heat curls return:
a complexly simple statement
and reminder
of identity and culture.
Our hair is
as our land is
as we are:

Sunkissed Gem

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light in the dark

Light in the Dark
Ooh, look at you Jigga-Boo,
With your dark skin, big lips, nappy hair,
and large derrière
You fail the brown bag test,
and your hair is all a mess,
Not enough lipstick to cover,
the voluptuous lips, inherited from Grandmother
Hair kinky and curly, and thick as lambs wool,
Even if its braided and beaded, or dreadlocked, its still not beautiful,
how pitiful
We as a people, trying our best to fit in,
Straighten your hair, hide your backside,
pretty equals light skin
Complexity of my sistas’ complexions, is GOD sent,
Sistas’ sweet as ice cream, lighter than caramel to darker than chocolate
Fast forward the time, to one, nine, nine, nine,
Its now acceptable,
to be ethnically incredible
Its true, ’cause Cosmo said so, big lips are now exotic,
Blondes and blue eyes getting injections, to mimic my sistas’ reflections,
how ironic
30 years ago, these characteristics should have changed,
Little Tomeka being teased, because of the rinse, spin, and wash of our brains
No pride in the darkside, not happy to be nappy,
Too fully equipped, in the hips, butts, and lips
But now dark skin gives the look of Mediterranean,
Hair with “a flare”, has kinks and curls up in there
Sensuous, vivacious, womanly and voluptuous,
Synonyms, given by them, to describe traits of us
But not because of us, but because Vogue said so,
And the rear, of the “Buns of Steel” instructor, is to die for
Is this what it takes, for US to close our eyes and see,
That OUR exterior frames, come from our inner self BEAUTY.

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creamy crack: how do i hate thee

 Creamy Crack:
How Do I Hate Thee

You hooked me!
I woke up in cold sweats pining from your deadly
fumes that filled me up with the aroma of love.
You burned me!
To touch you left me with patches
that stripped life away
from the very roots that bloomed from within.
You kept me!
So dependent in a way that I could never walk
without the crutch you gave me
to lift my head high in pride.
False hope!
To think that life would be worthless without you,
because I would be worthless without you.
You stole from me!
Constantly taking the essence that was given to me —
as a gift, replacing it with your mirrors
to reflect the image you see me in.
You tortured me!
Empty and hollow full of holes from wounds of abuse
caused by the toxic disease you carry within your
formula of beauty.
You poisoned me!
Filling my head and thoughts with words and
sweet whispers of self-esteem lasting only 6 to 8 weeks.
You deserted me!
Leaving me in a coma, depriving me of those free
of your mental and emotional restraints of
a chemical prison.
I woke up!
Alive and free and educated to be what God made me.
I got smart!
Finally realizing the only way to rid you
was to neutralize you!
F**k You!!!
My self-worth is not determined by the straight,
relaxed path of destruction you leave behind,
but the bend and the curve of a rhythm…
I choose to roam!
Author Unknown

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in my nappy hair

 In My Nappy Hair

In my nappy hair
exists exotic energy
that has been here for centuries
strengthening me continuously for infinity
allowing me to muster the ability
to see, act and think clearly.

In my nappy hair
The soul of Afrika lives
Which gives
my spirit culture and foundation
Enlightens me on the essence of creation
Brings me education and elevation
of the truth of my beloved Nubian nation

In my nappy hair are Afrikan songs
that make me STRONG
that tells me who I am and where I belong.

In my nappy hair
There is positivity in a large capacity
traveling at high velocities
possessing infinite possibilities
of peace, progression and prosperity.

In my nappy hair is powerfully
refined protein
packed with profound principle
which makes me an invincible King.

In my nappy hair
Knowledge, wisdom and insight
have been twisted together to loc
forming forces of passion and fire

My nappy hair
is natural
is magical
is spiritual
is original

In my nappy hair


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My Queen and Natural Heir

My Queen and Natural Heir

Not to knock weave but I have my preference
This natural hair possesses such an essence
The way it’s meant to be.
Growth from Adolescence An expression; unique, be you no pressure Personality shown throughout the texture
Grow into the style that last forever
Straight, loc-ed, curly, braided or bald
Wake up what to do? Problem solved
Styled simply yet appears so intricately involved
Naturally yours from root to end
No receipt, cant take it back or share with a friend
No glue no burns, chasing a trenda wig? a bang? nikki minaj?
Naturally you, self-Identified let me play in it, scalp massage
Pullin on tracks? “no you cant”
Soft to the touch, a visual stimulant
I love it, that’s a fact
Your natural look is my AFROdisiac


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don’t let our hair divide us

 Don’t Let Our Hair Divide Us
We as black women should not
let our hair be the dividing element
that destroys our development.
Our hair is a unique blend
of the diverse experience
we have experienced in America.
It is an expression of our horrific history
that at times, the white system has used
to destroy Sister Unity.
Yes, our hair defines us,
but it should not deny us
the right to wear it any way we want.
After all, when we look into the magazines of America,
we see what has been believed to be beautiful,
and then wonder if we are okay–
yes, we may say we are okay,
but when we search within
and find that dilemma that
makes us wonder if we should blend
the nappy with the straight
in order to relate to a world
that has denied our beauty
from the very beginning,
then our hair still is a
difficult and complex issue.
Deep down we wonder if our men
like it straight and blowing in the wind,
and then after feeling its awesome texture,
we fall in love with that glorious natural;
yet when we stand against the world,
the eyes of society don’t often see
our natural halo as beauty.
And then we rush back to the straight
hoping that this will dictate
that we must compete in a competitive world;
but blackness is a state of mind–
the color or length or texture of our hair
really cannot be defined;
the decision is ours–
we might plague it for hours,
for in the end what should really matter
is the genuine love we have
for our God-given hair.
Carolyn Hopkins


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