En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Awaiting For a Black History Date

Those awaiting for a Black History date,
To express their appreciation...
For contributions their own kind make.
Are those trying to find,
Approval for these acts.
That had been laid and placed in past decades...
For the chance to enhance and romance,
Deeds done to eliminate...
The sweat endured to produce the facts.

And how can a 'Black History'...
Take just a few days,
To confirm any of that?

To gather to celebrate the lives of these folks...
Should be done on a daily basis.
And not when just provoked.
Or joked when adorning attire...
Meant to invoke a connection that inspires.

It is difficult to live each day as it is...
In a society that has done its best,
To disavow the truth as it is lived.

And taking one month to proclaim one's identity...
Seems a waste of time.
When people rather wine and dine.
Especially if thoughts are not carried around...
With a discipline within that is deep down.
Or with an integrity that does not disappear...
Before Spring has yet to begin!
And the Winter cold and snow...
Has from steps safely cleared.

'I'm Black and I'm proud! '

No doubt.
But...
When?
What time of the year?

And what are you wearing...
Before those thoughts of yours,
Come to an end.
Hmmm?

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Black History Month

In January...
There they are making history.
In February...
There they are making history.
In March...
There they are making history.
In April...
There they are making history.
In May...
There they are making history.
In June...
There they are making history.
In July...
There they are making history.
In August...
There they are making history.
In September...
There they are making history.
In October...
There they are making history.
In November...
There they are making history.
In December...
There they are making history.

But...
It's nice to know
The shortest month of the year
Was chosen to celebrate
The great deeds of African-Americans!
However...
It is those LEAP YEARS,
That really have the blacks jumping for joy!

Note: 'Black History Month' along with other
works of interest can be found in...

*'MindPrints from Untouched Places-VOL I'*
~Now available online at a PC near you~

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Month Of Re-Enforcing Stereotypes Has Arrived

The month of re-enforcing stereotypes has arrived.
With a naming of a few who broke away from them,
To remind others they too have the same potential...
If they embraced discipline, devotion and a work ethic.

It's the month of re-enforcing stereotypes.
And folks who have waited to use the words 'niggers'
'coons', 'jungle bunnies' and other degrading references...
Depicting people of color,
Can do so to say they are celebrating bondage.
Since...
Isn't that the purpose?
To keep people reminded of their slave mentalities.
OR like some folks like to address their 'connections' as...
Keeping themselves down to Earth.

And...
With much assistance,
What a good job people have done...
To prove a legacy of ignorance can have its visual benefits,
For all who are determined to keep stereotypes alive.

Note:
Are these images subtle? Not anymore. In fact depictions of
ignorance 'are celebrated where I live in Hartford, Connecticut.
And thought to be 'cute' by those totally absent of identity.

When a picture from Kemble's Coons (Authored by Edward Windsor Kemble)
shows a coon with a naked black child sitting high in a tree,
eating on an ear of corn, and I know this reflects the mindset of the people...
this picture released and shown to begin celebrating Black History Month,
can be upsetting. ESPECIALLY when there is no acknowledgement, whatsoever,
of Jimmy Brown who was the first Black President of The Hartford Board of Education.
AND those who are 'celebrating' those deeds of black folks in this 'town'...
Have no idea who he is.

'Is 'this' poetry? Is 'this' a slice of life? Yes, it is. A poetic flowing of an intention! '

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blackstars of beautiful twilight

Winding all the black thoughts of the golden children upon the lost divinity
Enriching the black history of warm words and the soulful sounds of silent dignity
Lining all the black rimes to the history walls painted by the cold face of humanity
Igniting the black sparks of the twisted science of reality upon these cold swords of invalidity
Looking towards the bright future of the black poetry, we proudly declare the shine of cold thought mortality
Enhancing the forever shine of all Blackstrars, brings about my finding of true serenity
Blackstrars of beautiful twilight shine upon my forever...spark the joy and pride upon my black mind
Blackstrars of beautiful twilight shine upon the land of my black history and dreams, be the vision and true joy of my black kind.

poem by Sicelo Sithole
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There 'Use' To Be A Winter In New England

Pretty soon people will be complaining,
About getting any snow at all.
Especially in New England...
When Summer and Fall,
Seem to rush to connect with Spring.

It is January and there is a dusting of snow.
And people heard strolling on the streets...
Say it is cold.
Wearing nothing but jackets and no Winter coats.

There 'use' to be a Winter in New England,
This time of the year.
And many would ski and slide the slopes.
Prepared in their snow wearing gear.

And every year Winter seems to be taking a backseat,
As warmer days come to tease...
Those who love the snow,
To witness it quickly leave.

There 'use' to be a Winter in New England,
This time of the year.
Pretty soon people will be complaining,
About getting any snow at all.
When Summer and Fall,
Seem to rush to connect with Spring.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Season of Love

Winter sky so dark with stars so bright
brings a glow of sheer delight.
Diamond's woven into a cloak of navy blue
the scene is set for all things new.
Romance and love flourish at this time of year
winter magic dispels all doubt and fear.
Time to walk and cuddle in the park
all secrets hidden in the dark.
Winter winds stir passions deep within
can love really be a mortal sin.
Kindred spirits search and find
Needing to be with their own kind
Cold frost brings a need to touch
wanting love so very much
Virgin snow casts its magic spell
nature knows us so very well
Stark contrast shows trees laid bare
bringing out our need to care
The season of love is upon us now
to resist we don't know how
Time to rest in a lovers arms
bewitched by mother nature's charms
This very special enchanting season
give's true love its rhyme and reason
So let us give thanks for this special time
with a toast to winter of sweet red wine

poem by Veronica Black
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Kept Integrity

I remember early in my expressions as a writer,
I was told I did not represent my plantation roots.
I didn't depict those sufferings,
My ancestors experienced in the fields...
As they plotted to set themselves free from slavery.

Well...
All Black folks weren't shackled and chained.
Quite a few Africans sailed the seas with the Chinese,
Long before claims were made and history re-written...
By the 'others' who say to have discovered what they didn't.

I come from a long line of pioneers.
And there is nothing in my heritage,
That keeps me tied to paying an annual homage...
To being oppressed and grateful,
While I address this on a daily basis.
As I display a disrespect for myself.
And express a lack of identity.

None of my ancestors,
Would have never allowed me to reflect...
That kind of ignorance.
They may have been tricked and deceived,
To abandon their palaces and kingdoms...
But a kept integrity will never be diminished.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Exile On Princes Street

(DickKellyMosleyRotheryTrewavas)
I saw a blue umbrella in Princes Street Garden
Heading out west for the Lothian Road
An evening news stuffed deep in the pocket
Little did I know that even a heavy load
I found us walking Grierson's dockyards
Where the only thing working was foreign film crews
Making an impressive documentary
For the big news
To the satellite
And all we're left with is the black black oil
With a sense of pride and identity
The waters left behind we shouldn't forget
Laid low in the books of history
I saw the starlings wheel round Georgian spires
Gathering on patrol in the skies
In the distance burns the flame of Grangemouth
And the dream is lost
Everything what it could inspire
From the take you know there is no distance
How we talk about in the secret affairs
Taking our ride into the distance
To be what it was or could have been
What I should have said
And all we're left with is the black black oil
With a strong sense of national pride
'Till we take some more steps to unity
Take it back to me
Take it back
In a city run out of luck
And all we're left with is the black, black oil
With a strong sense of national pride
Calling the ... for identity
What it meant to me, what I said
What we could have had
I saw a blue umbrella in Princes Street Garden
Heading out west for the Lothian Road
An evening news stuck deep in the pocket
Little did I know that he'd fall
Carrying a heavy load
And all we're left with is the black black oil
With a strong sense of national pride
Calling a name in the sake of unity
What it means to me you'll never know
You'll never

song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black History

Boom, boom, boom!
That was in 1530 to the Slave Trade;
My Mama told me so,
My Papa told me so,
In the name of our ancestors gone by;
Slaves for arms,
Slaves for powder,
Slaves for hardware,
Slaves for spirits;
Boom, boom, boom! !
All over the West Coast of Africa!
Today, i am a Blackman to tell you a story.

Black History, the Black African, the Black Race;
Of my ancestors gone by,
Boom, boom, boom!
Black head, black sugar, black coffee;
Where are the true identities of the Blacks?
That was in 1530 to the Slave trade.

Black History, black love;
A Black Race to a call.
Tap your fingers and do think about it,
My Mama told me so;
Bllack shoes, black phones;
With the Black History gone too soon,
My Papa told me so.
Black hair, black eyes;
The black coal to steam up the engines!
In the name of my ancestors gone by;
But, where are the black pens of love to share?

Do think about this and learn from it,
Boom, boom, boom!
A Blackman in the house to tell us a story;
Where is William Wilberforce?
Where is Thomas Buxton?
Where is Granville Sharp?
What about the Slaves? !
These men need to tell us more;
They killed my ancestors softly without compensations!
Black love, black stream, a black home to live in;
Like 'Naughty By Nature',
I've got 'Queen Latifah' to tell us more.

Of the Black Songs,
Of the Black race,
With a Black-Limo to keep us going;
This Slave Trade was a Black History to us all.
Boom, boom, boom!
Do contact Africa to learn more from this;
Like a black bird, a black cat and the black fingers! !
Do contact Africa to see things for yourselves.
Oh Blackman,
When are they going to admit to what they did?
Like a Black Ninja in the house,
Do know your history before you destroy yourselves.

Boom, boom, boom!
The very sound of the Slaves marching on;
This is our colour and, we have to respect it.
Black Cop, Black Soldier;
A Black Marine to a call,
We still have more to learn from each other.

Black wine, Black Doctor, Black People;
Know all about your history.
About where you came from and,
Where you are today;
Black seed, black marble, Black Prophets!
We still have more to learn.
Slaves for arms,
Slaves for hardware,
Slavces for powder,
Slaves for spirits;
Boom, boom, boom! ! !
Black beauty, black sea, black pot;
Black Nurse, black melody, black stamp;
Know your history always.

Of the freed Slaves from England to Sierra Leone,
With those from America to Liberia! ! ! !
Today the Black Panther is here to stay like,
The Black Writer.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The Celebration Of Black History Month

Why are you doing that?

'In the celebration of Black History Month.
This is the only time of the year,
We can express our heartfelt gratitude.
AND,
Do it with a full blown dignity, pride...
And an identity expressing our self esteem.'

I don't get it.

'A group of us have decided,
To re-enact those days when we...
Our people,
Were captive slaves...
And kept in physical bondage.'

So...
You are polishing shackles and chains?
To attach to yourselves'
Help me understand this.
Please.

'Well...
It is our way of showing,
We are appreciative...
For all that our ancestors have done for us.'

And...
Why the wearing of tuxedos?

'We've invited some very influential people,
To impress them with the advancements we've made.
Proving our completed togetherness,
As we struggle for freedom and true equality.
A picture paints a thousand words.'

You don't mind if I don't attend do you?

'I am not surprised by that at all.
Everytime there is a call for unity...
You find some excuse not to participate.
And frankly,
Your absence may be for us attending this event...
A blessing.
Your sermons about us being ignorant,
Is a bit tired and outdated.
It's brothers like you...
That keeps putting a blemish on our efforts.'

You have no idea,
Just how outdated you make me feel.
And...
You will not have to worry about me,
Putting a single blemish on your efforts.

'That's a relief.'

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I don't want a Black History Month. Black history is American history.

quote by Morgan Freeman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Here To Leave Their Garbage

I don't allow myself or my time to be played with.
What would be the point to lay back and waste it?
Or complain about others,
Taking their lives too seriously?
Isn't that the purpose?

Neither the time or the experience to live it,
To do 'something' beneficial...
Was not meant to whine and dine,
With a trashing done to take for granted.
Is that the reason why we all are here?

I would think we would want to do our best,
With an appreciation expressed somehow.
However...
Many believe they are here to leave their garbage,
For someone else to clean up behind them.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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January

A time to review, a time to renew;
A time to bid farewell to last year’s amassed.
A time to survey opportunity’s view.
A time for the present before it’s the past.

A brand new year for joys and sorrows,
Most of which will be of our own making.
Don’t miss the todays while planning tomorrows
Since right now is here for the taking.

Snowy driveways and football chats
Dot this month of ice and snow.
Old Man Winter attacks thermostats
As sledding kids know where to go.

This new month is what you make it.
It can be freezing cold and very stark…
Or full of warmth if you don’t forsake it,
But recommit to love as you embark.

poem by Gregory Huyette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Have You Ever Done That Before?

Your 'things' do not make you a better human being.
You may believe they establish you a status.
But there is something that can be said about pretense...
That leaves those hungering to spend their time,
With people who express a common sense...
From thought producing minds.

It is a rarity to find folks,
Who have not been tainted or provoked...
By teased materialistic dreams.
Or the kind of people who become identified...
By where they live and what they drive.
Living a quality of life that seems delightfully contrived.
Yet inside of them there is a frightful hollowness...
That is silently screamed,
And quietly demeaning them.

Your 'things' do not make you a better human being.
And their absence,
Also has not revealed you possess an integrity.

With your identity gone packed away with your 'things'...
And no integrity left you can display or bring,
What is it that you claim you can give to offer?
Superficiality?
Okay...
And,
What else do you have besides that?

Do you have anything we can chew on that's concrete?
How about a conversation we all can contribute.
Have you ever done that before?
Had you considered comprehending after listening,
To complete sentences...
Delivered to your assuming ears.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Some Kind Of Welcomed Status

No one should feel threatened,
To serve a life sentenced...
Spent surrounded where people enjoy,
Mediocrity cemented in ignorance...
As if they are meant to seek this to employ.

I can understand why the young people,
Strike out and defy authority as they do!
Most adults are immature...
Without a presence of discipline that is endured.
And...
In most urban centers this is what people choose,
As an approval of some kind of welcomed status.

Or a showing by example,
Those qualities of leadership expressed...
To impress their children.
However...
Neglect is what these young folks expect.
With a quickness of their lives lived,
With no understanding the finalizing of death.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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black RESPECT

Black shoes,
black suits,
black sandals
black you,
black specs,
black life,
black faces,
black casket dropped deep the dark grave,
Red ribbons,
red lights,
red flowers,
red wine.
Hearse sirens
wailing women,
Black speeches,
Blackened praises, all in all they call it the last respect

poem by Joub kahuria
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Knowing Very Little

Someone knows 'someone'
Who has been quick to express disappointment,
Regretted.

That 'someone' who believes,
They were annointed to know everything...
Just because God has given them air to breathe.

Those folks are the ones,
Who say they have no interest in politics.
Announcing that religion and politics do not mix.
And knowing very little about either.
And even knowing less on a daily basis.

They do not read or participate in community activities.
And yet appear on a neighbor's doorstep,
Out of breath to express...
'What in the world is going on?
Do you know what I just found out?
I 'heard' there were problems with the economy.
And there was this Black guy on TV...
MY TV!
Telling me about changes he is going to make.
What on Earth?

Have you seen him?
Is this some kind of a joke?
What happened to Bush?
I feel I am about to have a stroke! '

They remain confined,
Out of touch and time.
And soon...
Out of their minds!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Now That The Year Is Growing Kind Of Old (Envelope Couplet Sestets)

Now that the year is growing kind of old
when the true story of Jesus we are told,
we are living up to a day of giving
while daily we hear joyful birds singing
as when they did that child once behold,
now that the year is growing kind of old.

Now that the year is growing kind of old
our Christian faith we do at times uphold
while to others we bring some happiness
like messengers of God we try to bless,
sing happy songs on each friendly threshold,
now that the year is growing kind of old.

Now that the year is growing kind of old
while some live sheltered in a stronghold
in a world of chaos there is tranquillity,
when in God we find some serenity,
in our own lives we act cheerful and bold,
now that the year is growing kind of old.

Now that the year is growing kind of old
in our lives God’s blessings are manifold,
while merrily bells do jingle and chime,
we tell of loving that goes past all time,
we celebrate Christmas in each household,
now that the year is growing kind of old.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Back In The Days Of My Youthful Glow

Both sympathy and empathy I understand,
With clarity.
There has been no part of my life...
Was there an option that I live,
If...
For just a few days or week.

Nor did I get the opportunity...
Just to live for the weekends to party.
Or...
Never did I run away,
From a task or deed to leave.

And I do understand,
There are millions living today...
In a sorrow that may seem to them,
Carried on backs weighted down by grief.

However...
Being a product of an environment,
I knew few that were pampered...
It becomes difficult for me,
To echange my experiences...
To walk in someone else's shoes.

Most of the time,
I had holes in the soles of mine.
And I was taught at an early age,
To keep my shoes shine...
Bathe.
Wear clean underwear.
And be thankful for what I had.

Even if that meant...
To be glad if I had nothing!

And...
Back in the days of my youthful glow,
Anyone would think I was ordained...
The 'king' of Bellevue Square.
A tenement project where poor Black folks lived,
To later become great people!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Winter of Discontent

I remember a winter a few decades ago.
Where our dear England was covered in snow.
It started on Boxing Day with a blizzard from hell
then in the course of a week the snow just fell.
This once green paradise was now a shroud of white
and everyone was suffering from chillblains and frostbite.
Outdoor life was like an indoor fridge
where everything had frozen like a mountain ridge.
Abandon lorries on the side of the road
men were freezing even their load.
Villages cut off all over the land
so in came the troops to lend a hand.
This was the winter of discontent that lasted from
Christmas, and way past Lent.
As one lot of snow cleared, it would return again
to bring freezing cold tempretures and a lot of pain.
Wind would blow both night and day, and still the snow
never went away.Drifts of snow standing six foot high
just being topped up with snow from a winter sky.
So what of this winter of ice and snow
one that happened a few decades ago.
I remember it as one that was cold and wild
because in the summer God presented me
with my first born child.
In this year, where snow fell in December
it was the coldest winter I will ever remember.

poem by Sylvia Spencer
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