Beside Me
an old american
wearing sleepers.
white sands clinging
still on his feet.
beside him
her filipina. the brown girl
black hair. orange sarong
wrapping her body
she needs yahoo.
he says, what are you looking for?
i do not really think
that she is literate. but i can sense
she is trying to be
just like anybody else.
he thinks she is beautiful and
cheap.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Marriage On A Sunday
the man is albanian
we think he is British, bloody british they'd say.
at six feet five, his built is horrendous,
if horrible means the same as that,
broad shoulders, pluffy, peachy cheeks
glowing in Philippine summer. He is the groom.
the woman is a Filipina, chinky, brownish,
short, petite, too small for his huge kind of
affection, they call it love. she is a mere five feet
long black hair, small arms,
frail, she is beautiful and too innocent
for this kind of an important affair. Marriage.
Her chatmate finally now her groom.
Her saviour from poverty, and family honour.
It is none of my business really. But i have
doubts on this discrepancy.
Love, is this love? Can love bloom
between tall and short, between white
and brown, between the rich and the poor,
between an innocent Filipina girl and
and a bloody britisher? Forgive the word.
Tell me, who's the lucky one?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Random Thoughts
i
i YET have to
see a little black girl
wishing that
she is white.
ii
that little brown girl
over there
sitting in one of the
dark corners of her own
messy tropical world
wish that her skin
is white her hair blond
her parents
either British or
American
iii
i wish that kids
shall remain as kids forever
not minding
the color of the skin
when they become
full blown
adults.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paint
Don't paint me red,
Red is for bold women that use cheap scent
Don't paint me blue
Blue is for sadness and regret
Don't paint me green
Green is for envy and not to be seen
Don't paint me black
black is for the night and I love the light
Don't paint me white
White is for virgins and me, I love a flirtin'
Don't paint me orange
Orange is vile and I have some style
Don't paint me brown or grey or cream
these colours are boring and really not me.
Paint me in silver, platinum or gold
so I remain precious as I grow old.
poem by Ruth Walters
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A Crush
It's about a girl.
Possibly the most attractive girl I've ever known.
I was quite taken with her,
almost from the very begining.
Brown eyes and black hair.
Small and skinny.
So proper in all the right ways.
I was in love with her and I still am.
I long now for this wonderful girl.
So beautiful and comely.
I'll spend my life longing for this wonderful and beautiful girl.
I'm sorry I never had a chance to be with her.
poem by Michael McParland
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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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Beach Neighbor
at the other side
of the fence
is my British
expatriate
neighbor
his beard is white
and he is
6 feet tall
retired
military man
married to
a Filipina
who split with her husband
5 years ago
i watch him playing
with an adopted
2 year old
brown kid,
they are throwing stones
to the sea.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dark Little Goth Girl
Dark Little Goth Girl
What have you become?
You used to be so strong
But now you get pushed around
Dark Little Goth Girl
Why do you cry so much when you're alone?
You used to like the darkness so much when you were at home
Dark Little Goth Girl
Why did you fall in love?
You used to be so beautiful with your hair black as night
But now look at it- brown in the shadows and red in the daylight
Dark Little Goth Girl
Why don't you wear black anymore?
You used to look so marble with your skin so pale
I can't look at what you call color now
Dark Little Goth Girl
Where did you go?
Now i can't stand this girl who's going to all your shows
Dark Little Goth Girl
Please come back
I don't like this girl with glitter on her bag
Dark Little Goth Girl
poem by Shaughnessy Turner
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What can I say of myself
What can I say of myself
That others has said of me
Even though they were always wrong
No, I do not grow a tail at night
No, monkeys have straight hair not I
They say that I abandon
My children for a jail cell in the company of men
They do not know that I do not hate my dark skin
It is the money of whites, their power
That denies me; keep me in the yoke of self hatred
They fear my power to survive
It is greater then their to enslave
Financially and sexually as is the American way
By my black American culture am I made brave
They think that I want their daughters and sons
To bring then over to the beautiful dark side
As they are entice by the art of being black
They want me to mount them to bring
Them closer to the animal that we all are
To praise me they say that I am to articulate to be black
And they want to know if this is my real hair
And they call my skull cap a doo rag
They tell me that they too love fried chicken
And watermelon and can get down with some corn bread and collard green
With smoked ham hocks or neck bones
They want to know why I am so angry
As a black man who should be prove to be born an American
And why I am acting white when I dress preppy
Why don’t I sound black over the phone
They want to know why I eat pig feet
They say that I should get over slavery
But not that the Jews should get over the Holocaust
They want to touch my hair
Their women folks are quick to commit crimes
And blame it on a black man
They think that the lighter my skin color
The less dangerous and friendlier I am.
They tell me that I got rhythm
poem by David E. Patton
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Never have you painted more beautiful
You have never painted more beautiful
than last night
and young black woman
with curling hair
standing next to each other
look as if three
comes magically from one body
and they stare with big eyes at me.
Maybe the paintings
are comic picture beautiful
and you thought
that the one
with the pumpkin on the head
is the most beautiful
and there were others
wearing gourds
and I wanted to smile
when you asked
if it is art
or only craft.
poem by Gert Strydom
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To The Other World
try standing naked by this mirror
see yourself to every detail
look closer to your eyes
count the waves of your eyelashes
open your mouth and see how many teeth you have
all white, pure white lining up on your pink gums
feel your lips with your fingertips
feel the pulp the flesh of the lower lip
to the upper lip
touch your hair
do not imagine them all black
closely they are not at all
move a little bit closer and see your body
this beautiful human body
flesh, contours, curves, some muscles
the whole of your skin wrapping
everything in your body holding them all
nothing falls, on this erect body, this
god before you, standing steel-like with dignity
in front of the mirror
do not claim you have seen your soul with your eyes
do not lie
be honest to yourself now,
alone, you are alone, do not imagine
any god, any soul, any spirit,
just be honest,
touch your body with your hands
feel the joy of having this body
your body, pinch a part of it to feel
not pain, but just to feel that you are alive,
do you ever ask what made these parts stay as one?
look again at the mirror of this stature
your body, it is you, touching your body
take a hammer, and destroy the mirror
shatter everything to pieces
this is the world without a mirror
there is nothing to reflect you now
nothing to imagine, it is you, the real you
do you ever ask now, where is that other world?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Summer Night, Riverside
In the wild, soft summer darkness
How many and many a night we two together
Sat in the park and watched the Hudson
Wearing her lights like golden spangles
Glinting on black satin.
The rail along the curving pathway
Was low in a happy place to let us cross,
And down the hill a tree that dripped with bloom
Sheltered us,
While your kisses and the flowers,
Falling, falling,
Tangled my hair. . . .
The frail white stars moved slowly over the sky.
And now, far off
In the fragrant darkness
The tree is tremulous again with bloom,
For June comes back.
To-night what girl
Dreamily before her mirror shakes from her hair
This year's blossoms, clinging in its coils?
poem by Sara Teasdale
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To A Brown Boy
That brown girl's swagger gives a twitch
To beauty like a Queen,
Lad, never damn your body's itch
When loveliness is seen.
For there is ample room for bliss
In pride in clean brown limbs,
And lips know better how to kiss
Than how to raise white hymns.
And when your body's death gives birth
To soil for spring to crown,
Men will not ask if that rare earth
Was white flesh once, or brown.
poem by Countee Cullen
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The American Girl
You can see her walking down on a city street,
The american girl
Shes got the passion in her eyes
Shes got the blush on her cheeks,
The american girl
I love to watch her move, her body sways
She whispers then she laughs
Did you hear what she says
I wanna know if shes talking bout me
Doing things her daddy cant see
The american girl, out in the dark
Shes looking for love, oh oh
The american girl, she breaks hearts
But thats not enough
Shes such a mystery to me
Love is full of intrigue
And full of bogart mystique, the american girl
Shes got the promise in the night
The romance in the back seat, the american girl
I love to watch her move, her body sways
She whispers then she laughs
Did you hear what she says
I wanna know if shes talking bout me
Doing things her daddy cant see
The american girl, out in the dark
Shes looking for love, oh oh
The american girl, she breaks hearts
But thats not enough
Shes such a mystery to me
And she stares at herself
In the harsh white light
And she draws in her cheeks
Just like the model
So unsure of herself in the big wide world
The american girl
The american girl, out in the dark
Shes looking for love, oh oh
The american girl, she breaks hearts
But thats not enough
Shes such a mystery to me
The american girl, out in the dark
Shes looking for love, oh oh
The american girl, she breaks hearts
But thats not enough
The american girl, out in the dark
Shes looking for love, oh oh
The american girl, she breaks hearts
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Do You Think It's Alright / Fiddle About
(Pete Townshend)
I used to know everything about you
But today when I tried to point you out to one of my friends
I picked the wrong girl again
Don't see you in the crowd anymore
I think it's you but I can't be sure
You're wearing disguises
Occasionally a girl surprises me
When she turns out to be you
Wearing disguises
I don't think you want me to see you ever again
And today I saw you dressed as a flower bed
Last week you had a wig on your head
Directing traffic in the street
And your shoes were too big for your feet
You were wearing disguises
Occasionally a girl surprises me
When she turns out to be you
Wearing disguises
[repeat first verse]
Wearing disguises
Wearing disguises
Wearing disguises
Wearing disguises
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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America, So Beautiful.
Why is America the beautiful,
So beautiful?
It's because of German Polkas, and beer.
It's because of Irish corned beef, and potatoes.
It's because of French wines, and escargot.
It's because of soul food, from the hood,
The kind you find in Big Momma's,
In Cathedral City California.
It's because of Mexican food,
And the Mariachi's that accompany it.
It's because of the Hawaiian Poi,
And the Alaskan, fish ice cream.
It's because of the Italian Operas,
And spaghetti and meat balls.
It's because of the English language,
Brought to America,
By the subjects of the king.
America is blue eyes,
America is green eyes,
America is black eyes,
America is brown eyes,
America is blond hair,
America is red hair,
America is black hair,
And my all time favorite,
America is brown hair.
America is Japanese sushi,
America is Chinese hot and spicy soup.
America is mountains,
Beautiful snow covered mountains,
Shining in the sun.
America is deserts,
Hot arid and unforgiving,
And filled with life.
America is forests,
That extend,
'From sea to shining sea.'
America is ingenuity,
Great minds, from all over the world,
Reach their great fruition,
In America.
Where they are free.
Why is America the beautiful,
So beautiful?
It's because America is a rainbow,
Red, white, black, yellow, brown,
And all the myriads of colors,
These main colors produce.
It's so cliche to say,
We are a melting pot.
I prefer to say, What the great Bill Murray said.
'We are a mongrel race.'
Yet nothing on God's green Earth,
Is more loyal, more faithful, more loving,
And more devoted,
Than the mongrel.
America the beautiful.
poem by Juan Olivarez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The hoopoe
Every time that I mow the lawn
he waits in a tree
on me to finish
and there are times
that he gets impatient
and his hoopoe resounds.
Just when I walk away
he flies fluttering down
and pecks everywhere
to get worms
and insects
and I see his orange brown quiff
standing up
and it’s as if his body
glows shimmering orange
and there are black and white stripes
going to the points
of his wings
while like a woodpecker
he hits his bill
here and there into the ground
and like a chicken
pecking up seed
picks up insects from the ground.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Song Of An Old Man
i
his song is sad
a white man in the nursing home
his children sent him there
and they did not bother
ii
the Filipina nurses him
everyday she takes care of him
as he pees
as he poos
she needs the money
she sends her children back in her country
to school
she needs the green bucks to pay her debts
she too has a sad song
iii
and there in the nursing home
the Filipina and the old white man sing their sad songs
they have broken hearts
one waits for his happy death
another one looks for her sad life
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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American Girls
You can see her walking down on the city street, the American girl
She's got the passion in her eyes, she's got the blush on her cheeks
The American girl
I love to watch her move, her body sways
She whispers, then she laughs, did you hear what she said
I wanna know if she's talkin' 'bout me, doing things her daddy can't see
Chorus:
The American girl, out in the dark, she's looking for love, oh oh
The American girl, she breaks hearts, but that's not enough
She's such a mystery to me
Love is full of intriguein', full of vulgar mystique, the American girl
She's got the promise in the night, the romance in the back seat
The American girl
I love to watch her move, her body sways
She whispers, then she laughs, did you hear what she says
I wanna know if she's talkin' 'bout me, doing things her daddy can't see
chorus
And she stares of herself in the harsh white light
And she draws in her cheeks just like a model
So unsure of herself in the big wide world, the American girl
chorus repeats out
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Disguises
I used to know everything about you
But today when I tried to point you out to one of my friends
I picked the wrong girl again
Dont see you in the crowd anymore
I think its you but I cant be sure
Youre wearing disguises
Occasionally a girl surprises me
When she turns out to be you
Wearing disguises
I dont think you want me to see you ever again
And today I saw you dressed as a flower bed
Last week you had a wig on your head
Directing traffic in the street
And your shoes were too big for your feet
You were wearing disguises
Occasionally a girl surprises me
When she turns out to be you
Wearing disguises
[repeat first verse]
Wearing disguises
Wearing disguises
Wearing disguises
Wearing disguises
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Babe
She was wearing a white linen suit,
the skirt just above the knees.
Of course her hair was golden.
Of course those breasts were D's.
Her golden tresses framed a face
with eyes, Aeolian blue.
Those hips could launch a thousand ships,
if Helen's myth be true.
I slowed down for the orange light,
not my modus operandi.
My wife became suspicious-
then she spotted my eye candy.
“Don't be staring at that girl.'
she said, petulantly.
'What girl? ' I said,
the light turned red,
disingenuously
poem by John F. McCullagh
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