Sweet Pea
Oh my sweet pea,
The white child doesn't know the black child;
Oh my sweet pea,
The white child doesn't know the coloured child;
But the black child is aware of the coloured and the white!
And this poem is to bring forth the message of love to all amnkind,
Because we were all made by the Creator!
Just as it is written,
So is the seed of the Medes;
And like Sodom and Gomorrah!
For i saw people queuing for pig meat and,
Like the sins of our past.
Of the people and by the people,
Read your Bible and pray everyday;
For many are still not ready to learn.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Innocent Child
In the eyes of an innocent child, you see all, you know all.
In the eyes of an innocent child, you know why the sky is blue and the
leaves fall.
In the eyes of an innocent child, There is no peace and there is no
war.
In the eyes of an innocent child, There is only peaceful co-existance.
In the eyes of an innocent child, There is only here and now and
nothing in the distance.
In the eyes of an innocent child, there are the colours of the rainbow,
black and white.
In the eyes of an innocent child, Grey areas are not right.
We look at things in grey, black and white, but not like a rainbow.
Some say we even look through rose coloured glasses.
It would be nice if we could look at the world through the eyes of an
innocent child.
poem by Mahfooz Ali
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Zebra Child
I’m not black
I’m not white
I’m a Zebra Child.
My father skin is fare like a pinkish cloud.
My mother skin is dark like coco.
My skin is both swirled into a light caramel color.
I’m not black
I’m not white
I’m a Zebra Child.
My eyes are hazel with a hint of blue.
My hair is kinky yet manageable.
While I have African hips
I also have European lips.
I’m not black
I’m not white
I’m a Zebra Child.
I relish my difference
Although some times
I envy others similarity.
But I am what I am.
I’m not black
I’m not white
I’m a Zebra Child.
Who Will Cry?
Who will cry for the little child who goes for days without food?
Who will cry for the little child who parents beat them?
Who will cry for the little child who is mistreated for being different?
Who will cry for the little child who goes unloved?
Who will cry for the little child whose stomach is swelled up?
Who will cry for the little child who doesn't have clothes to wear?
Who will cry for the little child who is shunned for not being popular?
Who will cry for the little child who is molested every night?
Who will cry for the little child who's parents are not around?
Who will cry for the little child who has to take care of his self?
Who will cry?
Will you cry?
Cause I have.
poem by Natasha Ligons
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Give the white child so that the black child doesn't cry.
Dear little Darling
I don't have any kids but someday when i do i would like to say this one for them on there wedding day.
Dear little darling,
My sweet little child
I woke up this morning
With a thought in my head
I love you a lot
My dear sweet child
I love you so much
I made a poem,
Just for you sweet child
I want to see you grow,
I want to see you blossom,
I want to sing you lullabies,
I want to whisper soft words,
You make me smile
You make me laugh
You also make me cry,
I cry because I am happy
Happy to see you,
Happy to see you grow
I am filled with joy to see you every day
I am glad you are my child;
I know this poem doesn’t rhyme,
It doesn’t have to
You are what the poem is about,
I watched you grow,
I watched you blossom,
I sang sweet lullabies,
I whispered soft words,
And now its time for me to say goodbye;
You are my life, my gift from heaven
Although you are grown up
And it’s your wedding day
A day of happiness
A new chapter in your life,
But just remember this
You will always, be my sweet child.
Life Is Poem
to me life is a poem............maybe a child's singing and crying.....sometimes......when I wake up........I go to a park.......in my leisure.......though I am alwayss leisured by life......I sit on a desolate bank.....look around...what I see.......The sparrows eating our troubles......hopping around........to me.......they are the hopping champions of life......easing our troubles....when there is a sparrow.....there must be a life...of some how.....some what....I watch the people by passing......there is the blind couple.....with their white white long stick....tapping....ı t is a music played ı n pavement stones....composed by them....listen to it....sometimes a black crow crows....writing his black poem, , , , , , tearing our ear drums....to me life is poem......the crying of the living...good or bad....ı wish....I had written this piece...like a child.....they are my beloved ones and friends...who me only understands...and write poem s best........
poem by Metin Sahin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Black, White Or Coloured
I was born black and you were born white or coloured;
But we all came from the lovely hands of the Creator,
Because the Creator loves colours!
And like the muse of the rainbow seen across the sky.
I am always black! !
In the sun, in sickness and even when i die;
But the Creator made it so,
And i will be buried as a black when i die.
You were born white or coloured,
But you came out of the womb with the colour of the rose!
And you became whit eor coloured in the process of your growth,
But you are always blue when it is cold.
You do turn green when there is fear in your eyes!
But yellow when you are sick;
And like the various colours of the rainbow as seen across the sky,
But you will be grey when you die.
This shows that i am always black from birth to death,
But you do have various colours to satisfy your muse like the rainbow;
So you are more coloured than i am in this life,
And we all know the reality of these facts on this earth.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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White sparrow
white sparrow you see me standing
you could kill me without landing
your wing is just as long as a man
you are as cold as a snowy day
you have come here from heaven
you must of as you fight my devil's
your feathers turn slowly black with my sin
and yet you stay beautiful as always
my sin is like a ciggerate it will turn you black inside
but you cannot die as you are one in your own
you came from heaven so your holy arent you
god sent you for me so you must do what you must do
my heart was never red nor white but black
i was born with my sin and also that of my kin
but white sparrow you have taken that from me
and now you are dying you turned black whilst i change to white
oh my lord what a sight it must be to see
a boy like me clean of all carrying a bird of sin
i am carrying you white sparrow your heart is no longer cold
and your body no longer white nor wings large
but white sparrow you will not die, no you will not
for you white sparrow you came from heaven for me
when i picked my child's name people laughed you did not
you looked at my child in his cot and nodded now you cant
for white sparrow you dont belong with me not anymore
your must leave for heaven and recover to help others
so farewell white sparrow il missy you my saviour
now go to that sin filled woman and help her
for white sparrow i will look for you as you continue
for white sparrow i will see you in heaven....goodbye
poem by Daniel Laurence
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Colours.
She ponders, by the window,
the mellow-honey seraphic child
the irreproachable child
the intangible princess child
amongst the colours
engulfing her whimsically
in a paintwork
of jejune rainbows.
Beguiled, you stumble
into her air of intrigue whereupon
you find that behind those
sugar-spun curls and
fairy peach complexion,
she has no eyes.
Blindness! An intangible web
of colours; where longing
meets beauty. She may be blind
but she is not ignorant.
And she touches, inquiringly,
the colours; Orange, subtle sunshine,
scratching, longingly, at the surface of
her blank white paper.
Pink, candyflossicecream
dripdrip dripping-
Pink, onto a neon-coloured world.
She silently uncovers
dark green moss, over
a solid black wall.
Black, stepping out so boldly,
so prominently, but hardly
ever noticed: is she too different
from white?
There she sits, daintily
by the window smudged
with noisy fingerprints,
the mellow-honey seraphic child
the irreproachable child
the intangible princess child
amongst the colours
she cannot see.
poem by Ballerina With Fins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love is a child
Love was a child, so meek and so mild
Love was a child who smiled.
Love was a child who played with a toy train
Love was a child who jumped in puddles in the rain.
Love was a child who laughed and played.
Love was a child God lovingly made.
Love is a child that God now holds
Love is a child who will never grow old.
Love is a child we sorely miss
Love is a child who Angels now kiss.
Love is a child.
poem by Daniel Hooks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Where Is The Child?
love is blind,
life is wild,
death is wide,
where is the child?
hatred everywhere,
badness fills the air,
life is so unfair,
where is the child?
no one is funny,
bees make no honey,
everyone is running after money,
where is the child?
hearing no good voice,
there is much noise,
by a freaky gang of boys,
where is the child?
no one is having a good dream,
everyone wants to scream,
there is no more white cream,
where is the child?
purity is gone,
children have no fun,
badness is now in everyone,
where is the child?
there is no more respectable art,
no real love in any heart,
sadness in every part,
where is the child?
where is the child?
where is the child?
poem by Sarah Abu Zeid
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Give This Child What She Needs
Give this child what she needs
Love
Give this child what she needs
Shelter
Give this child what she needs
Prayers
Give this child what she needs
Some food and water
Give this child what she needs
Good parents
Give this child what she needs
Good manors
Give this child what she needs
A smoke free home
Give this child what she needs
Peace and happiness
Give this child what she needs
To know God
Give this child what she needs
Your guidance
Give this child what she needs
Clothes
Give this child what she needs
Your support
Give this child what she needs
Some family time
Give this child what she needs
A nice bath every day
Give this child what she needs
Some discipline
Give this child what she needs
A warm bed to sleep on
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let The People Have Their Say
The tide is turning
Its coming from the street
Read your own wisdom
Not the headlines
Dont let them tell you
Its fine the way it is
Its our agenda
We know better
Let the people have their say
Let the people show the way
Every woman child and man
Has the power in this land
Now dont you worry
The future will unfold
If we are open and ready
We all have choices
Not just the chosen few
So raise your voices
Hold them steady
Let the people have their say
Let the people show the way
Every woman child and man
Has the power in this land
(let the people)
The time has come now
To realize our dream
To claim our future...together
Let the people have their say
(let the people have their say)
Let the people show the way
(let the people show the way)
Every woman child and man
(every woman child and man)
Has the power in this land
(has the power in this land)
Let the people have their say
(let the people have their say)
Let the people show the way
(let the people show the way)
Every woman child and man
(every woman child and man)
Has the power in this land
(has the power in this land)
Yeah yeah, yeah yo
Yeah yeah
Let the people have their say
(let the people have their say)
Let the people show the way
(let the people show the way)
Every woman child and man
(every woman child and man)
Has the power in this land
Yeah yeah, yeah yo
Yeah yeah
Yeah yeah, yeah yo
Yeah yeah
(let the people show the way)
Yeah yeah, yeah yo
Yeah yeah
(let the people show the way)
Yeah yeah, yeah yo
Yeah yeah
(let the people show the way)
Yeah yeah, yeah yo
Yeah yeah
(let the people show the way)
song performed by by Howard Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old Child
Child. Old child,
No longer wild;
No longer speaking,
No longer beguiled;
I have become
A quiet old child.
Child. Old child,
No longer cold;
Never an old man,
Always too old;
I have become
An old child tenfold.
Child. Old child,
Forever a child;
Always rethinking,
Always exiled.
I should become
A happy old child.
Child. Old child.
Always soft-spoken;
No longer breaking,
Still being broken;
I have become
An old child, unspoken.
Child. Old child,
No longer bold;
By thinking, rethinking
Of stories untold,
All through my childhood,
I've become... old.
poem by Mihai Cosmescu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Help Save A Child's Life Today
this little girl has kinky hair
black is the color of her skin
almond eyes that speak
and small hands and
short arms
the ad says,
help save a child's life today
and i read it silently.
i ask myself, honestly, please do not brand
me as racist
is there such a white child
who can say, 'Help me! '
i am just wondering.
and what about the brown child in Asia?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Child Of Babylon
(coverdale/marsden)
When I heard the sound of thunder
On the day that I was born,
I was blinded by the lighting
An baptised in the storm
My father started crying
When he saw what he had done,
But, my mother started praying
Have mercy on my son,
He is a child of babylon
I am a child of babylon,
Lord have mercy on a wayward son
Nowhere to hide, nowhere to run
I am a child,
A child of babylon
When Ive fooled around so many times
When Ive known it aint been right,
But, I paint it all in colours
When it really should be black and white
I sail my ship through muddy waters,
Try to open every door,
When I saw the seven wonders
It left me wanting more
I am a child of babylon,
Lord have mercy on a wayward son
Nowhere to hide, got no place to run
I am a child,
A child of babylon
On my day of judgement
I know how it will be,
Im prepared to meet my maker
With no hope for charity
Ill stand alone and pay the price
For everything Ive done,
cos there aint guardian angel
For a child of babylon
I am a child,
A child of babylon
I am a child of babylon,
Lord have mercy on a wayward son
Nowhere to hide, got no place to run
I am a child,
A child of babylon
Child of babylon
song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Latter day South Africa
The face of the old black woman
is plastered with mud,
a red cloth is wrapped around her head
and her feet treads burdensome
where she walks bare foot
on rocky roads
and every now and then
steps into a thorn
and almost fall over
while she removes it clumsily.
The child that she carries piggy-back
isn’t black,
nor white,
or yellow,
or eastern coloured,
he’s something of everyone
and is belted to her back
with a ragged cloth
and it’s difficult
since he’s restless
and the child is thirsty
and the hunger
burns from his stomach
to his throat.
In the distance
she hears people
gathering around a bon fire
drinking beer and dancing,
but she’s locked out
and the road is long
and she hobbles on
while the twilight is falling.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just Another Black Child In The Ghetto
Cerdic a 7 year old boy got killed last night
but no one seems to care he is just another black child in the ghetto.
Janet 6 she got raped by one of the men her mom had her call uncle
but once again nobody cares just another black child in the ghetto.
Ahmid, can barely read and write and he's 13
but you know who cares he's just another black child in the ghetto.
Cyndi about to be a mother and she just a child of 15 herself
but she'll blend in with the others just another black child in the ghetto.
It is time for us to pay attention to the Cedric's, Janet's, Ahmid's and Cyndi’s so the children know of the ghetto that they are more than just another black child in the ghetto.
Sitting By Your Self
THIS child needs your love,
this child sees himself in
mamas arms,
this child sings,
this child laughs,
this child cries, when your
sitting by your self.
THIS child sees your tears,
this child waits untill its
past.
this child sings,
this child laughs,
this child cries, when your
sitting by your self.
THIS child takes your hand,
this child leads you to a
chair.
this child sings,
this child laughs,
this child takes away your pain.
poem by David Gerardino
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Child Had No Trust
The child was given a fruit
But the child did not eat
The child was given a shelter
But the child did not sleep
The child was given love
But the child did not take
The child was shown a path
But the child did not go
The child was promised a future
But the child did not believe
The fruit could be poisoned
The shelter could be a tomb
The sleep could be a nightmare
The love could be abused
The path could be an abyss
And the future smelled of the past
The child had no trust
Can anyone make the child believe
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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