En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Right between my underpants

Just before opening the draw
big green eyes with black pupils
peep at me.

Right between my underpants
Felix has made his nest
and yawns with an open mouth
so that his white teeth shows.

When I get a pair of underpants out
the black and white cat
watches me amused,
as if now
he knows some of my secrets.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Black and White

My world is black and white,
The colors I see is black and white,
Hold me tight,
Don’t let me go,
See the tears I have cried,
Listen to my cry,
Look into my eyes,
My world is black and white,
Cut my wrist,
Black my eyes,
Blacken these thoughts I think of,
Black and white is all I can see,
The tears is all I can feel,
Feel me fading away,
Watching myself falling apart,
Look deep into my eyes,
Can you see me,
Can you feel the pain I feel,
I don’t understand why I am feeling this sad,
All the moments that once we shared has faded away like others have,
I never did tried to see the beyond the black and white clouds,
I need to face what I have become,
I need to find my way back,
The black and white is all I can see and feel,
My world has been black and white.

poem by Jennifer Rondeau
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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While I get a few coins from my pocket

Yesterday there were young black men
standing in underpants
at the Apies river
and they were busy
washing their clothes
in the dark brown water

In one of the remote corners
of Sunnyside
a big cardboard box stands
at a shop’s entrance
on the sidewalk
and I see an old white man and woman
crawling out of it one winter morning
and they have got a half white bread
that they share with a white and black fox terrier.

At shoprite in Voortrekker street
a young black man
tries to sell fake perfume
and wants to know nothing
about removing his head
from the car’s window.

I place his goods
next to my car’s door
and tell my darling
to close her window
while he walks round the car
to get him out of the car.

At a pick-a-pay
there’s a small white woman
that’s a car guard
and always helps politely
to get the bags into the boot.

Then I realised
that if you just look around
there are countless people,
that life bites into pieces
and I wonder where
everything in this country is going?

While I get a few coins from my pocket
out of my pocket,
I feel guilty
to live like a king
and to see
others struggle around me.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Black and White and Red

Black and White
And Red I see
Demons they do
Torture me
Black and White
And Red all day
The voices are real
Or so they say
Black and White
And Red abound
I'm lost I call
I'm never found
Black and White
And Red flow out
I scream but you
Don't hear me shout
Black and White
And Red so bright
Exit blood and
Enter light
Black and White
And Red of death
Now I breathe
My final breath

poem by Anonymous Ghurl
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White Skin Black Heart

Yeah, whatcha gonna do now, now that you started?
Whatcha gonna do now, now that its done?
The words got out there, they float around and are coming right back down.
You gonna leave us lying here
Dealing with the consequences of a bad sound
Of a bad sound.
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
Whatcha gonna do now, that its spoken?
These words of a habit, have not faded away.
.................... it clear, conscious gets opened like a wound.
If you cant concieve a better line and better times,
Then let silence bury you, in the end.
When you feel it, when you feel it
Youre condemned.
You see, youve lost your strangle on the freedom road! you
Think ........................of something a long time ago! you
[spewed it out you were so] insecure! it was like ............. on
The toilet floor! youre a [nine seat] drunk, ............... and
You say you want something, .......... you heard the rednecks
Roaring for blood and then they wanted more! life was so small, you
Couldnt get enough. you made a start.
White skin black heart
Dripping,
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
Drag your eyes from [aurora] black heart!
White skin black heart
Drag your leg, get outta here [my sight]!
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
You didnt have to start
White skin black heart
White skin black heart

song performed by by Midnight Oil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I am a man of black and white

I am a man of black and white,
my name is written on the gates of the sky.
i am a man of black and white
my origin is united, yet two apart.

I speak the language of the whites,
but lost in the language of the blacks.
i am a man of black and white,
my resemblance is same with the blacks.

I am a man of black and white,
i was brought up in the land of the whites.
i am a man of black and white,
my home is in the south-east, in the abode of my black dad.

I am a man of black and white,
i love the aspirations of life.
i am a man of black and white,
although two apart, we are united as one.

poem by Randy Micheal
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Black and White (Stream XV)

I have black thoughts,
It is a black day,
A day when the black dog
Coal black, hovers at my shoulder.
I shoulder the burden.
Deep in the black hole.
Black as a black hearted night.
Negative.
Stark.
Black and white.
I do not call my good days white days.
Why?
Or have white thoughts
On a white day,
When the white dog
Pure white sits upon my shoulder.
Which is unburdened.
Out of the pit,
Luxuriating in the bright white light;
White as the purest snow.
Positive.
For we live in a too white world
Maybe we should have grey days,
And light days.
Why should Black be negative and White poitive?

For me then, today is a grey day.
Maybe tomorrow will be a light day.

Copyright P H Brookes 2012

poem by Paul Brookes
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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
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Final Door.......

Brown house
Grey smiles
Green green grass
Black shoes
Crystal tears with heart felt whispers
Hugs

Blue sky with cream teeth
Green green grass
(hold that thought)
Glassed water grasped
Taut innards
Flowers brought

White horses
Braided manes
White lilies
Window pane
White carriage
To carry forth
Green green grass
Hold that thought

Passing traffic
Collars grasped
Blurry images
Tend then pass
Crystal tears
Smart black tie
Shake and smile
Avoid the eye

Deep breath enter in
Listen watch
Let them begin
Then stare at the floor

'Bye bye darling'
Open door

poem by Karen Sinclair
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Black men, White men

should i be led to believe
that the white men's heart
is soft as cotton? and when
touched, is torched, bursts into flame
to settle comfortably in black,
a trail of humble lesson for the soul

should i be led to believe
that a black man's heart is
full of courage? charging like a bull
through America black or white
settling for nothing in between?

should i be led to believe that
black and white work the
theory of ying and yang
ever balancing to rev up the world?
rice would even grow in bush
black hair turns eventually into
a crown of white wisdom
and blackboards light up
knowledge in white chalk
white shines at its best in black
and where else but a piece of white
where black could make its clearest stamp
of its stand - left or right, right or wrong

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Turning White Into Black

Deep inside their strong stubborn skulls,

and ev’n in their glitt’ring eyeballs,

they really know that black is black,

no way white will be black –

ev’n when they attempt to burn it to black,

its ashes cannot be black but grey.

But for the thirty silv’rs they want to receive,

they, from their basket mouths that can nev’r

hold on a dropp of wat’r,

say that white is not white but dark black.

Lies are now their Messiah here,

and their odour are their John, the forerunner;

Justice but their Israelites in Egypt!

Their hands are cloth’d with mess,

making all their body smell shit, shit of lies:

in the scept’r, it is there;

in the cross, it is there,

not ev’n our homes are spar’d of this mess.

They know that white is white,

for their eyes are not blind;

neith’r are they, themselves, confus’d,

but their greedy mouths have made it so,

turning justice to injustice!

poem by Eche Ononukwe
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Eyes Of Green And Gray

Eyes of green and gray
i wish you'd look my way
smile for me today
O eyes of green and gray

Eyes of black and white
of sorrow and delight
i behold every sight
through eyes of black and white

Eyes as hard as stone
so cold and all alone
lost without a home
with eyes as hard as stone

Eyes of green and gray
it's here i want to stay
and never look away
from eyes of green and gray

poem by Sergey Sibikovsky
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Ghost Train

A straw headed woman, and a barrel chested man,
A pocket full of posies with a hat brim full of sand,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
A dog chasing the tumbleweeds, across the sandy floor,
That drift along the platform, through the ticket office door,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
But don't tell me there's nothing coming, you don't fool me,
I hear the ghost train rumbling along the tracks - set them free,
And i hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
The station master's writing with a piece of orange chalk,
A hundred cancellations, still no one wants to walk,
Keep the hungry children from the skeletons in the back,
Paid to keep an eye out for the gipsy caravan,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
I hear the ghost train rumbling along the tracks - set them free,
And i hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white (don't try),
It's black and white (don't try),
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
And i hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide...

song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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(Waiting For) The Ghost Train

A straw headed woman, and a barrel chested man,
A pocket full of posies with a hat brim full of sand,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
A dog chasing the tumbleweeds, across the sandy floor,
That drift along the platform, through the ticket office door,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
But don't tell me there's nothing coming, you don't fool me,
I hear the ghost train rumbling along the tracks - set them free,
And I hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
The station master's writing with a piece of orange chalk,
A hundred cancellations, still no one wants to walk,
Keep the hungry children from the skeletons in the back,
Paid to keep an eye out for the gipsy caravan,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
I hear the ghost train rumbling along the tracks - set them free,
And I hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white (don't try),
It's black and white (don't try),
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
And I hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide

song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Color girl

Black is crow
Black is cuckoo
Black is your eyes ball
Heron is white
Gander is white
And white is you
My color girl
I love black
I love white
I love you
I love to keep you.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Incantation

A white well
In a black cave;
A bright shell
In a dark wave.

A white rose
Black brambles hood;
Smooth bright snows
In a dark wood.

A flung white glove
In a dark fight;
A white dove
On a wild black night.

A white door
In a dark lane;
A bright core
To bitter black pain.

A white hand
Waved from dark walls;
In a burnt black land
Bright waterfalls.

A bright spark
Where black ashes are;
In the smothering dark
One white star.

poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
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The Great Sin Of Prejudice Against Color

Children,
who made your skin white?
Was it not God?
Who made mine black?
Was it not the same God?
Am I to blame, therefore,
because my skin is black?
Does it not cast a reproach
on our Maker
to despise a part of His children,
because He has been pleased
to give them a black skin?
Indeed, children, it does;
and your teachers ought to tell you so,
and root up, if possible,
the great sin of prejudice
against color from your minds.

While Sabbath School Teachers
know of this great sin,
and not only do not teach
their pupils that it is a sin,
but too often indulge in it themselves,
can they expect God
to bless them or the children?

Does not God love colored children
as well as white children?
And did not the same Savior
die to save the one as well as the other?

If so,
white children must know
that if they go to Heaven,
they must go there
without their prejudice against color,
for in Heaven
black and white
are one in the love of Jesus.

Now children,
remember what Sojourner Truth has told you,
and thus get rid of your prejudice,
and learn to love colored children
that you may be
all the children of your Father
who is in Heaven.

poem by Sojourner Truth
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Clothes

Put on a clean shirt
before you die, some Russian said.
Nothing with drool, please,
no egg spots, no blood,
no sweat, no sperm.
You want me clean, God,
so I'll try to comply.

The hat I was married in,
will it do?
White, broad, fake flowers in a tiny array.
It's old-fashioned, as stylish as a bedbug,
but is suits to die in something nostalgic.

And I'll take
my painting shirt
washed over and over of course
spotted with every yellow kitchen I've painted.
God, you don't mind if I bring all my kitchens?
They hold the family laughter and the soup.

For a bra
(need we mention it?) ,
the padded black one that my lover demeaned
when I took it off.
He said, 'Where'd it all go? '

And I'll take
the maternity skirt of my ninth month,
a window for the love-belly
that let each baby pop out like and apple,
the water breaking in the restaurant,
making a noisy house I'd like to die in.

For underpants I'll pick white cotton,
the briefs of my childhood,
for it was my mother's dictum
that nice girls wore only white cotton.
If my mother had lived to see it
she would have put a WANTED sign up in the post office
for the black, the red, the blue I've worn.
Still, it would be perfectly fine with me
to die like a nice girl
smelling of Clorox and Duz.
Being sixteen-in-the-pants
I would die full of questions.

poem by Anne Sexton
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Eye Can't Lie!

Non verbal signals, Understand the pupils,
When these are bigger, smaller and normal,
One is attracted to another, the iris open wider,
Black grape balls in the white eye balls glitter.
Look at the eyes and the eyes don't lie,
When the pupils are shrunk to the beat,
Of sorrow and sadness, though have a false smile,
Eyes speak thousand of mute words,
To show the expression of their minds,
When we are happy these are dilated,
When we are sad these are constricted,
When we are intoxicated and feel happy and sad,
These are either dilated or constricted,
As if the iris controls the light to control our emotion,
When we are lifeless, the eyes still speak the truth,
Pupils are dilated as if the Iris found the truth in light.
When we are dead, the pupils are big,
As If the happiness is found in that last breath.

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Two Different People

Two different people
Black people, white people
Black world, White world
A black person thinks different from the white people
White people thinks highly of himself
White people works very hard for his living
Black's are lazy
They don't want to work, they just want the money
You have to work for the money, they just don't get it
White people knows that there are no free ride in life
Black's want a free ride, there are no free ride in life
Nothing is free in life except for the air that you breathe
The white people have to be careful of what they say to the black People
Whatever you say to the black people if they don't like it they will say it Is discrimination
We can't understand them
They have a mind of their own
The white people are loving and caring
What about the black people?
Not a hope in hell
I don't want any part of the black world
The black world is not safe for me
So I rather stay in my white world where I feel safe
We can't trust them
The reason why there is violence in this world is because the black People cause it
Now they don't like it because they have to live with it
We want a safe world for our people
The black people don't care about it because the only thing they know And seen is violence
There is too much violence on TV
They like it
They like the feeling of danger
We white don't like the feeling of danger
The blacks hate the white people and the white people don't like them Either
The white people knows when to shut up
The black people never knows when to shut up
There is why there are always problem with them
They make life miserable for us
The white people will always be a good friend
The black people can never be your friend
They will take everything they can get from you for free

poem by Aldo Kraas
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Black and White

Black and White By Dilantha Gunawardana

A story in black and white

Black and white;
Black in white; perhaps black on white;
White embedded in black;
Black around white, sprinkle or a speckle even a trickle;
Shadows on the porch on an eerie white night;
A piano keyboard, intertwined in ebony and white;
A checker or a droughts board or lofty chess pieces;
Black stallions and white mares;
All galloping in the pursuit of unending happiness;
A flow of nimbus with a speckle of cumulus;
Showers of blessings, black rain and even snow and hale;
The smog that kisses the snow flake clouds;
Chimneys and embers inside snowy winter bungalows;
We begin in ashes, black residual ashes;
Connected to a white umbilical cord;
We are born white, virgins in every sphere of life;
Then we learn of the agony of the ebony;
Even the bright light of white, even white water that softens our stance;
Criss-cross, diagonal, straight or in jumps in the many paths of life;
Life, a game of chess, as we sprinkle our lives with black and white;
And in the end, we are left with nothing but black and white;
A powdered white peau against the back dropp of a charcoal black suit
In an ebony coffin, with white shimmering handles
Then we burn in to ashes, residual embers
Ashes to ashes, powder of our existence
Black and white;
Our true essence of life.

poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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