Blue Sky
There is a blue sky that shudders
And turns black after exhaustion;
The fires are on, in the childhood,
Many of these days are like fountains.
Loathing the men of mathematical qualities
Is nearly making me shudder,
For the shunning of the sun is huge.
Underneath the sky of the star is a planet,
And the soil is an open field of commerce.
Let the black mountains outshine others
In their blackness, so that fire of igneous rocks
Inflames our heart and speaks mathematically high.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Blackness Of The Black Black Night
THE BLACKNESS OF THE BLACK BLACK NIGHT
The blackness of the black black black night
The blackness inside-
‘The wretch concentred all in self’
Why oh I oh I oh I?
A million times the question comes
Focusing only on number one.
Who are we
And what can we be
If we are only
‘me me me’?
The blackness of the black black night
The blackness deep deep inside
Why oh why oh why oh
Always always always ‘I’?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Sometimes It Is Nice To Be Away
away from the usual colors
today he wears black from head to toe
it is hot and the heat stings and the black color you know
absorbs everything he feels
like he is blazing with fire
from his blackness
a black heart
a gray choice of the part of day
gloomy parks at night
with only one neon
sometimes you are on fire
and Holy Goodness
you do not want to put it off
you are like the burning bush
and your soul takes off
sheds off
its slippers at the entrance door
well, sometimes, sometimes
we like not to understand
we miss the mystery of our own ignorance
and we take pleasure
with what we hide
something like a burning heart
beside a volcanic magma
a different joy and yet so alone
making stones and instant cliffs
no one bothers
that is the ecstasy of it all
when no one bothers
when you become a child again watching through the glass window
on your favorite toy
the red one
with stripes of black
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Reality...one
in a field of grass
underneath the morning clouds
a man with a black hat
white polo and marine blue pants
rides on a red motorbike
followed by a brown dog
and a black horse
one upon the other they tread
upon the road that you are talking
blue birds fly the skies
above the poplars
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The way he paints the sun and the trees
He paints the sun in black bold colors
Flaming in black smoke and the trees
Are tiny and thin all in black like
Charred sticks from a huge fire
He did not place people in the landscape
The black rays are like the hands of octopuses
Crawling and perhaps eating the landscape
I look at his eyes, they are all red
Blood spurting out from his capillaries
With this huge fire of anger
Burning the painting the canvass ashed.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Open Sky.
From here I can see
The art of the sky,
Shrouded by the aprtments,
But a hundred kilometers
I am on with the open sky,
Which has become a rarity,
Unlike in my childhood,
When I played always
Under the blue open sky,
With my boy fiends,
And neighbourhood gorls,
The open sky was
Always in different hues,
Of blue, pink, orange,
With white, black, blue clouds
Watching which I grew up,
The colours of the sky
Is rarely seen by me,
The delight and companion,
Of childhood which din't speak.
Ravikiran Arakkal
poem by Ravikiran Arakkal
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Black Star
(words & music by wayne - edwards)
Every man has a black star
A black star over his shoulder
And when a man sees his black star
He knows his time, his time has come
Black star dont shine on me, black star
Black star keep behind me, black star
Theres a lot of livin I gotta do
Give me time to make a few dreams come true
Black star
When I ride I feel that black star
That black star over my shoulder
So I ride in front of that black star
Never lookin around, never lookin around
Black star dont shine on me, black star
Black star keep behind me, black star
Theres a lot of livin I gotta do
Give me time to make a few dreams come true
Black star
One fine day Ill see that black star
That black star over my shoulder
And when I see that old black star
Ill know my time, my time has come
Black star dont shine on me, black star
Black star keep behind me, black star
Theres a lot of livin I gotta do
Give me time to make a few dreams come true
Black star
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black Heart
Black Heart is shame
Black Heart is pain
I'm so black hearted, I have no name
Black Heart is sadness
Black Heart is no hope
I'm so black hearted, I'm about to pick up a rope(hang)
Black Heart is lonely
Black Heart is wanting to kill
I'm so black hearted, I'm about to take pills(overdose)
Black Heart is angry
Black Heart is despair
I'm so black hearted, i can't have a another pair(lover)
poem by Avontae' Miller
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Primer For Blacks
Blackness
is a title,
is a preoccupation,
is a commitment Blacks
are to comprehend—
and in which you are
to perceive your Glory.
The conscious shout
of all that is white is
“It’s Great to be white.”
The conscious shout
of the slack in Black is
'It's Great to be white.'
Thus all that is white
has white strength and yours.
The word Black
has geographic power,
pulls everybody in:
Blacks here—
Blacks there—
Blacks wherever they may be.
And remember, you Blacks, what they told you—
remember your Education:
“one Drop—one Drop
maketh a brand new Black.”
Oh mighty Drop.
______And because they have given us kindly
so many more of our people
Blackness
stretches over the land.
Blackness—
the Black of it,
the rust-red of it,
the milk and cream of it,
the tan and yellow-tan of it,
the deep-brown middle-brown high-brown of it,
the “olive” and ochre of it—
Blackness
marches on.
The huge, the pungent object of our prime out-ride
is to Comprehend,
to salute and to Love the fact that we are Black,
which is our “ultimate Reality,”
which is the lone ground
from which our meaningful metamorphosis,
from which our prosperous staccato,
group or individual, can rise.
Self-shriveled Blacks.
Begin with gaunt and marvelous concession:
YOU are our costume and our fundamental bone.
All of you—
you COLORED ones,
you NEGRO ones,
those of you who proudly cry
“I’m half INDian”—
those of you who proudly screech
“I’VE got the blood of George WASHington in MY veins”
ALL of you—
you proper Blacks,
you half-Blacks,
you wish-I-weren’t Blacks,
Niggeroes and Niggerenes.
You.
poem by Gwendolyn Brooks
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Dark and Black
Yes I am dark and black,
its none of your business,
don’t fill your heart with hatred,
it is my one and only destiny,
so don’t wanna be my enemy.
Yes I am dark and black,
it is my fate and race,
I’m here to run this pilgrim race,
I’m hot and real, not another fake,
so get used to my deep black face.
Yes I am dark and black,
That’s what I am, I love it so,
I’m not ashamed, don’t be confused,
It’s not for sale keep moving on,
I’m black and proud, all my days.
Yes I am dark and black,
call it whatever you want,
equate me with all your evil and demons,
but excuse me your personal pains and agony,
for darkness and blackness ain’t the same thing.
Yes I am dark and black,
before I was loaded in your slave boat,
and shipped to plantations far unknown,
and made to work and toil for free,
raped and abused, miseries untold.
Yes I am dark and black,
touch my hue and feel the smoothness,
embrace me and feel some gladness,
reject me at your own destruction,
respect me and be respected.
Yes I am dark and black,
forever I will be, don’t block my path
I’m more than this, so let me be,
no matter your segregation, I’m here to stay,
it’s not just a fact but it’s the plain truth.
Yes I am dark and black,
the unending ocean couldn’t change my blackness,
your strongest chain couldn’t break my color,
please blame your fathers and your mothers,
if my son now sit enthroned as your king.
Yes I am dark and black,
I was before your fathers arrived,
I was as I sailed the stormy waters,
I was as I waited my salvation,
I am and forever will be.
Yes I am dark and black,
it is my turn to rise and shine,
burn yourself in hell if you can’t stand it,
cry all you want, it won’t change the truth,
for the Most High has sealed it, there’s no repentance.
Yes I am dark and black,
and whom shall I fear?
why should I be dismayed?
and what shall I be afraid of?
yes I am dark and black,
and so shall it be
beyond this border even into eternity.
Isaac Slimx
May 2009
poem by Isaac 'slimx'
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The Fate Of The Black Bird
the black bird flies alone against the blue sky
it is lonely and that is the truth that lies in every black feather of its strong wings
if only it can change its course
and find a place where there are other black birds like it
perhaps it will turn back and learn to sing the song of the black flock
it is not a way of life that its father had handed to it upon its beak and claws
it is not even a choice and never did it ever imagine that it shall be alone against the blue skies
against the black nights and against the towering peaks of mountains
there is no other way of rationalizing about it except fate,
it is the destiny that chose its path and it is simply following the dictates of the stars.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Not for love anymore
I do not want to touch the blue
As the blue turns red
And yellow turns red
I do not want to write in black
Because black turns red
My fingers bleed
My pores spit out red
I cherish lilac
The smoothness, the innocence is gone
What is left is red
The ochre, the emerald greens
With a blink of the eye I find them red
All my reveries are swept away
By the ebb that is red
I do not want to see
I think of stop touching
I shall stop breathing
Red is strangling me
'Cause
Red isn’t for love anymore
Black Valentine
Making love? Is it all I want? Do I really care for you?
These Questions are on my mind, passing through...
Kisses, Hugs and Roses.
Stuffed-dolls, chocolates and the voices...
Saying 'I Love You.'
It's been many years of 'I Love You',
Tears and laughs that together we've been through.
Thousand of kisses, hugs and wishes.
You know love is the reason why did I wrote this...
Black Valentine, No, Don't Approach me,
Let Mr.Cupid's arrow rip right through me.
Make this day as red as the roses,
Keep me away from broken-up promises!
Black Valentine, Black Valentine,
Never play with this heart of mine.
Let me be your soul mate, Let us blend.
Let the days of heart-break come to an end.
Flowers and chocolates could make you smile,
But would our love last for even a mile?
I could hear your voice and see your face,
But between us how come I feel a huge space?
Black Valentine, Black Valentine,
Even though you are always with me all the time,
I know that whatever I do, You can never be mine...
poem by J.B. Baronda
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Woman's Skepticism
love, desire, passion, fire, is all the qualities that you seek
for this is what will make you complete.
the man will normally have the passion and desire
while the woman has the love and the fire.
his desires could light a stack of timber
and leave your body totally limber.
it will grow so strong, that it turns into passion
and not caring about which feelings is in fashion.
he has to quench this irresistible urge
burning every part of his being
and this is all that he is seeing.
the fire spreads throughout his brain
leaving him totally insane.
he finally realizes that this ' must be love'.
and these feelings were all brought on by you
and to his heart, he must be true.
when you finally find a man who has all these qualities
you have become so skeptical
that these qualities you do not see.
open your eyes for i am here.
let me take away that fear.
my love has become embedded so deep in my soul
that my heart it did take hold.
poem by Louis Rams
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Blackness
Venturing into a big black hole.
Emptiness surrounds, it fills my soul.
The grandness of the blackness takes control.
Hopeless, meaningless damn the blackness.
The blackness inside that does feed us and beats us.
It swallows me up and feeds my soul.
Heats the hate that makes me cold.
It reaches out and takes a hold.
To drive me further in blackness bold.
Further and further it's freakishly cold.
Enveloped yet to be told.
No boundries how far will it go?
We've got to see how dark the black can be.
So venture now to blackness hold.
You must be bold to take this road.
poem by Michael McParland
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The Bickerings Are Over: A Forecast
rocks upon rocks
and mountains upon mountains
of rocks and heaps of sand upon
heaps of sand, red blood
spilling on this soil, and
bodies scattered along
the parths, and too much
writings of hate on the
walls,
the white horse has been
sent and the light from
the great sun has
penetrated every heart
now in the state of grace
each man shall be contented
and silenced.
the weather is fine and there
is food for all on the table.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Birth
These mountains: blackness, silence, and snow.
The red hunter climbs down from the forest;
Oh the mossy gaze of the wild thing.
The peace of the mother: under black firs
The sleeping hands open by themselves
When the cold moon seems ready to fall.
The birth of man. Each night
Blue water washes over the rockbase of the cliff;
The fallen angel stares at his reflection with sighs,
Something pale wakes up in a suffocating room.
The eyes
Of the stony old woman shine, two moons.
The cry of the woman in labor. The night troubles
The boy’s sleep with black wings,
With snow, which falls with ease out of the purple
clouds
poem by Georg Trakl
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In Tuolumne Meadows
I Love to sit in the sun
And watch the foaming Lyell
Leap over its granite bed.
I love these days that run
On a burnished golden dial
With the blue sky overhead.
I love to waken at night
And whisper the stars above me,
And feel the fingering breeze.
So still is the world, so right,
Where even the black pines love me,
And the white moon guards my ease.
I love the upward ways
To the sun-tipped crest of the mountains
High over the billowy world;
Where the wind sings hymns of praise,
And the snows break into fountains,
And life is a flag unfurled.
I love—ah, beloved, what bliss
Would shatter the ice like a river
And sing all the way to the sea,
If the world could be lost for this,
And you from your sorrow forever
Could rest on the heart of me !
poem by Harriet Monroe
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My Innocent Childhood
soil soil and soil, , playing in the soil,
No fear of disease, no fear of toil.
What a wonderful days that was,
i always remember my childhood, my innocent childhood..
Only friend no foes,
no thinking of what dont and what does.
No fear of future, no thinking of present,
i always remember my childhood, my innocent childhood..
What was the past, leave it, it surpassed,
what has to happen, lets face when it comes.
Future planning! What is this?
i always remember my childhood, my innocent childhood..
Play was religion and play was God,
only thing which gave fear, was my fathers rod.
Crying crying crying a lot, then said love you pappa,
i always remember my childhood, my innocent childhood..
poem by Zeya Mallick
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Fire, Fire
Fire, Fire
in hell do they burn?
Fire, Fire
here's my concern.
I cannot think
of hell right now,
only of the fire
that burns somehow
inside my brain
that inflames my senses
and heats up
seeing all pretenses
that prevail in this world,
Not the fires
of the underworld.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Eternal Fire
(9/15/12)
You instilled in my soul an eternal fire
and filled my heart with a fiery fire
Wanting to feel your warm
Tender body in my arms
Releasing all your love
And your charms.
Wanting your body underneath mine
Making mad passionate love
To you all the time.
I let my mind begin to mold
Letting my heart take control.
Letting the feelings rise to the top
Never hiding them, never to stop.
I could have given my love to anyone
But I chose to give it to you
For without you my life is through.
This eternal fire burns like
The fires in hell
Look in my heart, can't you tell.
you are my life, you are my everything
And with your love I want to be.
Let me see how high this eternal
Fire can really grow, for with the height
My love will truly show.
© L. RAMS
poem by Louis Rams
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