A Friend In New York Shot In An Art Exhibition
big round glasses
chinese eyes framed in black
curly black hair
pigtailed
protruding scarlet lips
closed
mustache untrimmed
you are the mouse of modern art
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Scarlet Ribbons
I peeked in to say good-night,
When I heard my child in prayer.
And for me some scarlet ribbons,
Scarlet ribbons for my hair.
All the stores were closed and shuttered,
All the streets were dark and bare.
In our town no scarlet ribbons,
Not one ribbon for her hair.
Thru the night my heart was aching,
Just before the dawn was breaking.
I peeked in and on her bed,
In gay profusion lying there,
Lovely ribbons, scarlet ribbons,
Scarlet ribbons for her hair.
If I live to be a hundred,
I will never know from where.
Came those lovely scarlet ribbons,
Scarlet ribbons for her hair.
Scarlet ribbons- theres magic in the air,
Scarlet, scarlet ribbons for her hair.
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Got Chocolate?
Snowflakes the size of marshmallows fall to the earth;
Frosty icy winds play havoc with her red curly hair.
She delights in frolicking in snow so deep;
Bundled up in bright green coat and leggings,
pink hat, scarf and gloves
she brightens up the gray day.
Grandpa dons his own snow gear, dark brown coat,
black ear muffs, gloves and red Santa hat;
shovel in hand he begins to clear the path
when 'she' playfully jumps into it re-snowing it
to Grandpa's chagrin as he grins
pretending to be annoyed.
but he re-shovels again with great patience.
The worst of the storm has passed. The white stuff
is the perfect setting this day, this Christmas Eve.
Cold, wet and tired Grandpa and granddaughter
come in to warm up to hot chocolate with marshmallows
and it reminds curly head of the snow fall today.
Grandpa's white mustache is chocolate dyed.
Curly Head's mouth says: 'Got chocolate? '
Bedtime has evolved, Santa's on his way.
Curly head has left him a treat in a cup.
Santa arrived;
he put Curly Head's presents under the tree
Santa's white mustache gave him away;
he looked at himself in the mantle mirror
and laughed a hearty, 'HO, HO, HO'
His white mustache was chocolate dyed
and he cried aloud:
'GOT CHOCOLATE?
'HO, HO, HO! '
© Mel Patterson,11-2011
poem by Mel Patterson
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Something Political
beside the woman with short hair
chinese eyes
plain clother
all black is another woman with
long hair
thick glasses
holding a cell phone
and a black leather bag
which she carries with her left hand
they are boarding a plane
to the central city
to talk the president about a
political proposal
the president has a mole on her left cheek
always smiling....
what is the point of all these?
nothing. The plan is kept as a top secret.
do you feel being fooled?
that is normal.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Beauty is not in colours
Black hair is nice, but not black teeth.
White teeth are nice, but not whit hair.
Red lips are nice, but not red eyes.
Black eyes are nice, but not black lips.
Beauty is not in colours;
Beauty is in the concepts.
25.05.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Scarlet Ribbons
(jack segal/evelyn danzig)
I peeped in to say good night
When i heard my child in prayer
"send for me, some scarlet ribbons
Scarlet ribbons for my hair"
All the stores were closed and shuttered
All the streets were dark and bare
In my town no scarlet ribbons
Scarlet ribbons for her hair
Through the night my heart was aching
Just before the dawn was breaking
I peeped in and on her bed
In gay profusion lying there
Lovely ribbons, scarlet ribbons
Scarlet ribbons for her hair
If i live to be a hundred
I will never know from where
Came those lovely scarlet ribbons
Scarlet ribbons for her hair
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bolton
Black skin,
Black eye,
Black hair,
Black lips,
Black tail! !
A small one,
A long one,
With the blue of the sky and,
The green of the grass!
And within time and patience,
And like the elephants at the seaside;
But, Bolton is here to teach you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Round The Corner
The mouse run 'round the corner
The mouse run 'round the corner
a mouse ran 'round the corner
an' straight off down the hall.
Pretty much dun all over
pretty much dun all over
pretty much dun all over
by the light of day, she run.
Her putty tail aflying
a putty tail aflyin'
her putty tail aflying
dividin' the hurryscurry air.
She vanish in the floor shine
he vanish in the floor shine
they vanish in the floor shine
and into the puddle sun.
We laugh all day Black Friday
we laugh all day Black Friday
we laugh all day Black Friday
and all the day before.
And all the day before, now
and all the day before, now
and all the day before, at how
folk will flock to sales.
The mouse run 'round the corner
the mouse run 'round the corner
a mouse ran 'round the corner
and straight off up the hall.
poem by Morgan Michaels
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The Face Of Agony
pale, and abandoned
this is the face i see on the paper
veiled woman in black
lips cracked
teeth protruding
closed eyes
yet she swears
she knows where she is going
what she sees
inside her dream
in that nightmare
are obstructions
of guns bursting
she flees
and they find her
he kicks her
and laughs
he is dominion
she is a mystery
he is the shackle
she is freedom
seeking freedom
he is force
she is resistance
he laughs
she does not die.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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black as night, Elvyra
Watch out they'll say,
she'll come and get you,
black as night Elvyra,
will take your soul,
leaving you with nothing,
you'll never see another,
as dark and souless as her,
you wait and see,
i know what they'll say of me,
black as night Elvyra
They'll say she dances,
with the devil,
that she plays with fire,
that black as nite Elvyra,
you wait and see,
i know what they'll say of me,
Black as night Elvyra
look at her they'll say,
how dark with doom and gloom,
black as night elvyra,
look at her face,
pale as pale,
her black lips,
her black eyes too,
you wait and see,
i know what they'll say of me,
Black as night Elvyra
skinny and pale they'll say,
with raven black hair to opose,
Black as night Elvyra,
she knows your secrets,
whispers from your depths,
watch out for me,
you wait and see,
I'm Black as night Elvyra
poem by Jess Terry
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I had beautiful wavy hair and a waxed mustache.
quote by Curly Howard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Witches' Glen - An Auld Tale
Gather aroon the ingle nuek
For ae eerie tale I'll tell -
'Boot a glen whar a witchy spook
Cast folk in her terrible spell.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.
Warlocks an witches dance at night
When the full-moon turns its ken!
Thunder rides on a bolt of light
The deil's in the witches' glen!
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.
Auld trees hang o'er the twisted wynd
An' blot oot the licht o' day;
An there, there's staring eyes tae find
A stranger wha's lost their way.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.
Frae Grennan wood she hailed an flew
A flash thru the black night wind
Come witchin hour everyin knew
She'd get a' the folks wha sinned.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.
They burned her on Kirkmaiden hill
An' they bound her on a stake:
She chanted spells that made 'em ill
An' they pray'd for Jesus' sake.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.
When ere ye walk the witches' glen,
Whar branches stretch oot like hands
Tak' Bible, cross an' say, Amen!
An' heed the guid Lord's commands.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she's still there tae be seen.
poem by Patrick Scott Hogg
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Half my father
Half my father
Half my mother
My mother white as a ghost
My father black as coal
In my face the mixture glows
My skin is white
Still I am a black man
By the make of my nose
My hair is curly
My eyes are gray
Within me both if them lives
My mother’s race
Did enslave
My father’s race
Was never paid.
Still within I bare the two
Am O the new American?
My father is white
My mother is Korean
They met during the war
And I was born
Their only son
By my tone of skin
And by my eyes
You can tell
That there is a divide
And by my blonde hair
It is there for you to spy
Am I the new American?
My mother is German
My father polish
I learned three languages
As I grew older
Both of them
Did love me well
And of each country did tell
That I could draw
From each well
Am I the new American?
My father is Chinese
My mother Spanish
Both crossed over the Rio Grand
I am in the make of my father
But I have my mother’s brown skin
Am I the new American?
poem by David E. Patton
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Modern Eyes
She know you bad
You don't sing songs of love
She treats you right, she treats you like a web of love
You know who's of the heart, her notions of societies
You belong to know and just like our sophiaties
[Chorus:]
Modern eyes
Modern eyes, to see what you want to see
Modern eyes
Modern eyes, she'll paint you with the modern eyes
What you look for in people is not hard to recognize
Black man, white man, short man
They're all the same in size
You breath the air, you feel the sea and the sand and the skies
When nighttime comes you blind men with modern eyes
[Repeat chorus]
She'll paint you with the hupskin on
She'll paint you with the fire in your eyes
She'll paint you with the modern eyes
[Repeat chorus]
song performed by by Toto
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Night In Monte Alegre
i see the sun
set in Monte Alegre
A White brow
framed by the window
long white hair
flowing like a polluted river
upon the neck of
an old woman
holding a cane
such trembling hands
worn out
stopping on the edge
of uncut fingernails
eyes
fixed upon
the nothingness that
i, who sit there,
am, beginning to see
it is not horrible
darkness creeping
upon the black thigh
dry blood
scarlet night
dead in Monte Alegre
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Face
you only see half of my eyes
a part of my nose you shall kiss
my mustache rugged like the mountain ridge
of cracking stones and parched mud
of wilted grasses under the cruel sun of long droughts
my lips are thick as the dark night and
silent like the short lived dusk
my beard are uncut for months now
my hair black and long is blown by the wind
always eastward bound
blending with the bleakness
of my future.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Black Woman
black woman
woman black
sing to me
sing to me
like Roberta Flack
tell me your longing
say you'll be there
tell it like honey
your cool moist breath
black woman
black as the cat
who strives in the night
sleek as the bird
daring in flight
black as the land
in which you were born
and bleak the day
from that earth
you were torn
black angel
black eyes aware
ebony skin
natural hair
black woman
woman black
love me forever
love me now
don't hold back
poem by Martin A. Ramos
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At The Veranda
her hair is black and curly
and she is so tight
and young and you
do not speak to her
as she waits for
her lover at
the veranda of
this house
you stand on a door
half open where your
eyes take the
luxury of looking
at her
she blushes and
pretends
that she is scrolling
a name in her
cell phone
you pretend you
look at the stars
crowding a black
cloud up
the silent sky
she steals a look at you
she wants you
but she is here
at the master's
bedroom
and her name
has always been
fear
he looks at her again
and winks
in the mirror beside
her
'she is fast asleep' he said.
she has no answer
she smiles.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Blacck Woman
Her hair is like the softest silk,
Her eyes are of deep ebony brown,
Yet her smile melts my inner soul,
She is my Black Woman!
The thick lips she posses are so pleasing;
Her touch is that of a goddess,
Her beauty is beautiful as diamond,
My Black Woman, also My Queen.
Though no one is truly perfect,
But in my eyes she is so fine,
My Black Woman everlasting….
For me there can be only her,
To stand by my side threw thick and thin,
Comfort me when I fail
To help me get back on my feet,
To believe in me when others doubt me,
She’s merely being herself….
Also my Black Woman.
A strong Black Woman she is indeed,
Also passionate with understanding as well,
This woman would never leave my side,
My lady, my friend for all times…
My Black Woman.
©2010 Redscar McOdindo K’Oyuga
poem by Redscar McOdindo K'Oyuga
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Seven-Sided Poem by C. Drummond translated by Souza
When I was born, a crooked angel,
the kind who live in shadows,
said: Go, Carlos! Be gauche in life.
The houses spy the men
chasing after women.
Perhaps if the afternoon were blue
there wouldn’t be so many desires.
The tram passes by full of legs:
white black yellow legs.
Why so many legs, God, my heart asks.
But my eyes
never ask a thing.
The man behind the mustache
is serious, simple, and strong.
Almost never talks.
Has a few, close friends,
that man behind the glasses and the mustache.
Lord, why did you abandon me
if you knew I wasn’t God?
if you knew I was weak.
World world vast globe
if my name were Job
it would be a rhyme, not a solution.
World world vast globe
vaster still is my heart.
I ought not tell you,
but this moon
but this cognac
gives us heartache like the devil.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Try Painting Something In Two Colors Only
the duality of just red and black
red for luck as the chinese sees it
and black for goodness
(remember good guys wear black
as the americans
put it)
but i do not really believe what the chinese
or the american believes it to be
to the French
in Les Miserables
red is the color of despair
and to us
Filipinos, black is the color of mourning
equate it with despair
when idealism dies
when our ancestors pass away
when we do not think of them anymore
black, death and red,
blood,
and
something thicker than water
darkness, and coldness, and being lost because
'you are drunk and you are standing
on the edge of the roof'
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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