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Poetry & Free Verse
Challenge Ended
Write about a person, place, or thing related to Black History. Dead or alive. Real or imagined. Offensive or uplifting. Make the reader feel deeply about the Black experience in America, even if you are not Black. The winner will receive $50 cash money from me, and be featured on my social media platforms.
Ended February 28, 2017 • 37 Entries • Created by Selahkx
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Challenge
Write about a person, place, or thing related to Black History. Dead or alive. Real or imagined. Offensive or uplifting. Make the reader feel deeply about the Black experience in America, even if you are not Black. The winner will receive $50 cash money from me, and be featured on my social media platforms.
Cover image for post "I Have a Dream ... ", by JamesMByers
Profile avatar image for JamesMByers
JamesMByers in Poetry & Free Verse
687 reads

“I Have a Dream ... ”

I have a dream, as all men bleed-

This nation will embrace its creed:

"Equality for one and all,

Let freedom ring and racists fall."

I have a dream, in Georgia's wood-

A peaceful feast of brotherhood

As former sons of slaves unite

With sons of owners, bite for bite.

I have a dream, and it is sweet-

That even Mississippi's heat-

That heat of vile oppression's snare-

Will disappear and clear the air!

I have a dream, let me begin-

No one will judge for shade of skin,

And my four children will delight ...

Regardless black, regardless white.

I have a dream, a dream today!

And no, it will not go away.

That color does not make a man-

The content of the person can!

I have a dream, a rising noise-

That little girls and little boys

Of colors black and white will stand

Together, walking hand in hand!

I have a dream, a dream today!

In Alabama, what I say

Will vex the governor until

Those racists words must simply still ...

I have a dream, the valleys, high,

And mountains brought below the sky

Along the rough now smooth and plain-

The crooked, straight, will all remain.

As I move South, this faith and hope

Is carried with me as I grope

The hammer to beat down the stone

Of tyranny from off his throne!

In this faith, we will lift the Lord,

In brotherhood; in one accord-

In this faith, we will all prevail-

In struggles, joys, or even jail!

And this will be the greatest day-

The day when all God's children say:

"My country, 'tis of only thee-

Arise, oh land of liberty!"

And if America will be

The nation that we long to see-

Then freedom must upon each shore

Arise and travel door to door!

From New York, we let freedom ring!

From Pennsylvania, freedom ring!

From Colorado, freedom ring!

From California, freedom ring!

From Georgia, we let freedom ring!

From Tennessee, let freedom ring!

From Mississippi, freedom ring!

From every corner, freedom ring!

And when this happens, we will sing-

The majesty this day shall bring

As all God's children, black and white,

Go singing into that good night ...

"Oh, free at last, oh, free at last!

We overcome our father's past!

Remember we must make it last-

Oh, God Almighty, free at last!"

*This is a rhyming paraphrase of an excerpt from Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s famous speech.

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Challenge
Write about a person, place, or thing related to Black History. Dead or alive. Real or imagined. Offensive or uplifting. Make the reader feel deeply about the Black experience in America, even if you are not Black. The winner will receive $50 cash money from me, and be featured on my social media platforms.
Profile avatar image for Acadec56
Acadec56 in Poetry & Free Verse
241 reads

My great great great aunt, Mary McLeod Bethune

Mary McLeod Bethune was an important, yet overshadowed, civil rights activist. She is most famous for setting up schools for African American in Daytona Beach Florida. Afterwards, her school merged with cookman university to become Bethune-Cookman University. Mary McLeod Bethune was also an advisor for FDR himself. When I first found out that I was related to such an incredible figure, I was, and am, extremely proud. I truly hope that everyone tries to learn much more about her. I gave you just a taste of her magnificent cuisine. 

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Challenge
Write about a person, place, or thing related to Black History. Dead or alive. Real or imagined. Offensive or uplifting. Make the reader feel deeply about the Black experience in America, even if you are not Black. The winner will receive $50 cash money from me, and be featured on my social media platforms.
Cover image for post Monte, by B27321
Profile avatar image for B27321
B27321 in Poetry & Free Verse
468 reads

Monte

the Count

of Monte

Cristo

Perhaps

the Greatest

Story

Ever Told

of Revenge

&

Love

of Miseries

UnTold

Under

the Lash

you Become

the Beast

That Was

Man

&

Can

Only Climb

Up

the Power

Money

Mad

It

Gave Him

All

He Had

the Bitterness

Of

the Past

Washed

a Way

Like Sand

&

Only

Now

the Moment

Was Left

to

Stand

#B27321

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Challenge
Write about a person, place, or thing related to Black History. Dead or alive. Real or imagined. Offensive or uplifting. Make the reader feel deeply about the Black experience in America, even if you are not Black. The winner will receive $50 cash money from me, and be featured on my social media platforms.
Profile avatar image for Selahkx
Selahkx in Poetry & Free Verse
176 reads

Happy Black History Month, Prosers. 

"Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, 

I am the dream and the hope of the slave. 

I rise. I rise. I rise." 

-- Maya Angelou

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Challenge
Write about a person, place, or thing related to Black History. Dead or alive. Real or imagined. Offensive or uplifting. Make the reader feel deeply about the Black experience in America, even if you are not Black. The winner will receive $50 cash money from me, and be featured on my social media platforms.
Cover image for post Wearing Your Skin, by sandflea68
Profile avatar image for sandflea68
sandflea68 in Poetry & Free Verse
185 reads

Wearing Your Skin

I want to crawl proudly into your skin,

the colors of onyx and burnished wood,

copper, milk chocolate and creamy coffee,

rose touches and hints of sunshine,

beautiful bones and proud shining eyes,

strength and resolve and perseverance,

to bleed my colors and blend with yours.

How else can I know what it is to be black?

Now I can hear your voice, feel abandoned

and alone, forgotten by others, I hear your cries.

I walk through the slung mud of desperation,

intolerant thoughts, setbacks leaving deep wounds.

Wander through desolate deserts - a no man's land,

please don't shoot, I want to live - justice and peace

just out of black man's struggling reach, as he musters

his dreams, casting aside the threatening clouds,

shifting shadows of all he's lost through no fault of his own,

bouncing moonless because of the color of his skin,

innocent scapegoat for the sins of white men is

cast out for no reason in sharp thistles of ignorance.

Just give him a chance to rise like phoenix in sky.

How else could I know how difficult black life is

unless I sense what you feel and slip into your skin.

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Challenge
Write about a person, place, or thing related to Black History. Dead or alive. Real or imagined. Offensive or uplifting. Make the reader feel deeply about the Black experience in America, even if you are not Black. The winner will receive $50 cash money from me, and be featured on my social media platforms.
Profile avatar image for Tee_Hi
Tee_Hi in Poetry & Free Verse
195 reads

A True Story

Picture this:

1988. Boston, Massachusetts, Boston University. 

Thanksgiving Break, Black Friday.

A black third-year Political Science major is planning to go to a reggae bar in Cambridge, called The Western Front, where he's to meet two buddies, Andreas and David. But before heading to the bar, he stops by Christy's Market, where he gets some money from an ATM and plays Galaga.

On the street outside of Christy's, he takes a left and is listening to Bob Marley's '3 o'clock Road Block' (which includes the line, "Hey, Mr. Cop, got no birth certificate on me now", which is soon to be relevant), when a cop car passes in the opposite direction. This car makes a U-turn in the circle it has entered, which the young man notices and figures they are following him. The street he's walking on is connected to Commonwealth Ave. via a bridge and is a one-way, so he checks to see if the cop car goes the wrong way on it and are therefore truly following him. Arriving on Commonwealth Ave, he crosses the street to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Plaza (more irony on this day) to wait for a bus or a cab. It starts raining and while sitting directly across the street from a Chinese restaurant, he notices another cop car sitting in front of the restaurant. As he stands, dodging raindrops, this cop car begins to circle, crossing over the trolley tracks in the middle (an illegal action that is posted as such). The young man now figures that the first car gave this car a call. Since it's raining, the cop is looking at him, and he's unsure of whether a bus or cab will be coming soon, he decides to walk to the bus and cab station to catch a ride from there. While walking, he looks over at a dorm and notices lights are on, possibly left that way for any students who hadn't gone home for Thanksgiving break. He goes to the doors and tries the first set, which don't open. He then tries the second set, which also don't open, so he goes to try the third set. Suddenly, the cop from in front of the restaurant arrives.

Says the cop, named Officer Lindy, "What are you doing? You're acting very suspicious."

"I'm a student at Boston University and I'm going into the dorm to use a phone. I'm going to the Western Front to meet some friends at a reggae bar and thought I'd call a cab to pick me up here."

"What are you doing in this area?" the cop repeats. "You're looking and acting very suspicious."

Before he can answer again, the second cop car arrives and this cop, by the name of Officer Cabral, says, "Yeah, that's him. Saw him over by Christy's." To the young man, he asks, "What were you doing? Singing?"

The young man thinks, 'Was it that bad that you had to stop me?' but remains silent.

Officer Cabral, seemingly mimicking the other cop, asks, "What are you doing in this area? You're looking and acting very suspicious."

The young man responds, for the second time, "I'm a student at Boston University. I live at (address from a couple of blocks away) and am on way to meet friends at The Western Front and was trying to use a phone to call a cab."

Just then, a cab pulls up and the young man goes to get in it, but is stopped.

Officer Cabral says, "If you're trying to catch a cab, you should know to go to Kenmore Square if you live at (address)."

After 3-4 mins of the young man and cops looking at each other, the young man decides to oblige them, so he turns to head towards Kenmore Square. But as he turns, Officer Lindy grabs his left arm. As he's originally from Chicago, our young man knows not to resist arrest from police, but since he's not actually under arrest, he's also not up for having hands laid on him, so he snatches his arm back and says, "Hey, what are you doing?"

The cops then grab him up, twist his arms behind his back, put him up against a light pole and say, "That's it, buddy, you're busted for assault and battery of a police officer." Bending the young man over the nearest cop car, Officer Cabral begins to search our young man's pants, to which the young man says, "Sir, there are no drugs."

Officer Cabral says, "We're not looking for drugs, we're looking for weapons."

Pulling out the young man's wallet and ID, the officer throws him in the back of the car and, leaving his car in front of the dorm, gets in the passenger seat, with Officer Lindy taking the wheel, and they begin to pull away. After running his ID, Officer Cabral says, "(Name), oh yeah, you ARE a Boston University student."

So our friend figures he is good; because there is a police station on campus for students, he thinks he is ok and that they're headed to the campus police station. But after a block, he notices that they're going in wrong direction. Our young man is now in worry mode, as he knows what officers do to young black men in Boston.

"So, if you see that I'm a Boston University student and I told you why I was at the door of the dorm, then why not just let me go?"

"If you hadn't have gotten smart, then we wouldn't be in this situation... If you're a Boston University student, why don't you have a Boston University ID?"

"Because I have a bursar problem."

The cops don't respond, but instead continue driving in the opposite direction of the student police station. At this point, our young man begins to panic even more. He begins to think of everything he read in the autobiography of Malcolm X and is seriously concerned...

Our young black man is soon delivered to the police station without incident, where he is brought before the desk clerk. His personal belongings are taken and he's told his bail is $20. Knowing he only has $19, he tells the desk clerk everything he told the officers, in the hopes of receiving leniency in terms of the bond. He is told 'no', but is allowed one phone call. Since he'd just left a buddy who would've had the money on-hand, he calls the friend, but since the pal was with his girlfriend - as our young man was afraid would be the case - the phone is answered and immediately dropped. So he calls another friend and that friend agrees to come down and post the bail. The bail is posted at 12 midnight, but the young man doesn't find out about it until 3am. Well, Christmas came early, because though it's the holiday weekend, the bail-bondsman, who ironically is named 'Mr. Christmas' happens to come by for another client and is told that the young man is in lock-up; he therefore fills out the required paperwork and the young man is released.

Arraignment is set for Monday, the day the young man has a Business Law midterm, which he now cannot attend. Come Monday, he calls his professor and explains the situation and is assured not to worry about the midterm; he is also given the number for an attorney he may call.

At the arraignment, he is met by Sargent Devlin of the Boston University police, who says, "They told me they had one of our boys down here. We can make this thing go away, you just have to plead 'No Contest'". The young man, being quite intelligent, thinks, 'Hmmm, that sounds like admitting to something I didn't do, which is not going to happen since I plan to go to law school.' He verifies this information with his public defender.

Later, in front of the black judge, when asked by the black D.A. how he pleads, he answers, "Not guilty," to which the D.A. says, "If the young man wants to waste the court's time, then he can pay his public defender fees."

The judge says, "We agree with the state and you will have to pay your public defender fees."

At this point, the young man thinks the whole world has gone berserk, because if an administrator of the law can say "public defender" and "pay" in the same sentence, then the world must be crazy. Fortunately, the public defender, obviously a true-blue guy, says he'd never heard of such a thing and that the young man shouldn't worry about it.

Months later, on the day of the trial, our young man arrives at court and finds that the only officer in court is Officer Cabral, who wasn't even there for the initial stop and questioning. The officer proceeds to testify as to how he observed the young man walk up to the doors of the dorm and begin to pull violently upon them. He also indicates that the young man became verbally abusive, as well as physically assaulting him "about his face and chest".

The young man writhes in his chair at the alternate facts being given, but is reassured by his public defender that he'll have his chance to tell his side.

The judge in the case is an 80-yr-old white Boston Irishman, who is falling asleep during testimony. So when the young man begins to tell his tale, he is concerned that he'll either be a victim of stereotypical Boston prejudice or that the judge will sleep through his testimony, just to wake up and give a verdict of "Guilty" just because. It is of note that part of his story includes the question, "Why would I assault an officer of the law when I'm planning to go to law school?"

However, fate, common sense, and truth win the day, as the judge wakes up, proclaims the young man "Not Guilty", and the young man is released. As he is leaving the courtroom, Officer Cabral waves a hand and says, "Good luck in law school." At this moment, the young man realizes he'd seen the officer somewhere else before and it takes him a few weeks to recall that Officer Cabral is a security guard at Boston University's Rich campus, as well as a police officer for the Boston University police. Also, he recalls that Officer Cabral was working one night when he attended a party with some young white ladies. So he then begins to believe that his arrest, detention, and aggravation was caused as much by racial profiling by the police as racial attitudes in general in regards to relationships between blacks and whites.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The young man in question, now 51-years-old, DID finish Law School, and when my S.O. tells me, as well as others, his tale, he always gets visibly upset. And so it goes, that indeed, the effect of some experiences truly do never fully abate.

**As a point of note, the same thing occurred twenty years later, in 2008, to Dr. Henry Louis Gates, who was arrested after returning to his home and finding he had no key, thereby causing him to break into his own home, at which point the police were called. Even after presenting his ID with the same address as where he was standing, he was taken to jail.

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Challenge
Write about a person, place, or thing related to Black History. Dead or alive. Real or imagined. Offensive or uplifting. Make the reader feel deeply about the Black experience in America, even if you are not Black. The winner will receive $50 cash money from me, and be featured on my social media platforms.
Wordslinger
Chapter 99 of 448
Profile avatar image for DavidMark
DavidMark
Cover image for post Shades, by DavidMark
Wordslinger
Chapter 99 of 448
Profile avatar image for DavidMark
DavidMark

Shades

The colours of my world

ardent orange and green

were shades apart

and hungry to be seen.

Without shouted slights

and the colours’ mark

strangers looked twice

before finding us out.

We wore colours to fight

And also to grieve

Embroidered, wreathed

on chests and sleeves.

Simple chances of birth

punctuated our hate

and our side was chosen

by the writing of fate.

History is just old news

but the bands and fights

guns and bullets too

kept the banners bright.

We were enslaved

And let difference in

as though our shades

were painted on skin.

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Challenge
Write about a person, place, or thing related to Black History. Dead or alive. Real or imagined. Offensive or uplifting. Make the reader feel deeply about the Black experience in America, even if you are not Black. The winner will receive $50 cash money from me, and be featured on my social media platforms.
Profile avatar image for Comets72
Comets72 in Poetry & Free Verse
172 reads

Araminta

These rifles and torches enflaming the night

Send hunters alike in their needless brutality.

Rewards are pursued for the carcass of me.

Not ever was hailed in these prejudice cities.

I try to escape their assailable light.

I can feel the weight of their spite.

It bears down on my tender knees.

The screams and cries of brethren pleas

Encourage my ankles to run through these leaves.

My bare feet escaping with all of their might.

Cant Stop! Not once for a single breath.

Keep Pace! Pass pain and opposing trees.

They're close! Those men of besetting light.

The body is bored with this mud-laced path

But agony leads me to freedom only.

My finishing line has come into sight.

Pennsylvania becomes heaven away from the wrath.

Realization through tears as I fall to my knees.

I am not the same person that escaped that night.

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Challenge
Write about a person, place, or thing related to Black History. Dead or alive. Real or imagined. Offensive or uplifting. Make the reader feel deeply about the Black experience in America, even if you are not Black. The winner will receive $50 cash money from me, and be featured on my social media platforms.
Cover image for post Daddy is not well, by CYS_Correia
Profile avatar image for CYS_Correia
CYS_Correia in Poetry & Free Verse
2.7k reads

Daddy is not well

 I grabbed Daddy's hand, asked him to pick me up to hug him. But he was not well. He kissed me on the head and apologized, but it wasn't his fault.

The overseer came to the house without a knock, he looked at Daddy and said "Boy, I'm gonna whip you this morning."

"I ain't done nothing." Daddy pushed me away from the man's sight- and I stayed there.

"I know it, I'm going to whip you to keep from doing nothing." and he hit him with that cowhide. It would cut the blood out of him with every lick if he hit him hard. And I stayed there: I could hear Daddy, he was loud, he was not well, he was crying. 

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Challenge
Write about a person, place, or thing related to Black History. Dead or alive. Real or imagined. Offensive or uplifting. Make the reader feel deeply about the Black experience in America, even if you are not Black. The winner will receive $50 cash money from me, and be featured on my social media platforms.
Profile avatar image for Tyla
Tyla in Poetry & Free Verse
129 reads

Black roots

Slapped in the chains of freedom

Slaved to my history

Constant pulling of the rope across my neck

Swinging the conscience of being black

The end result life or death

To die dipped in red

Or to live white

To become apart of the shadows

To hide in the alleyways

Afraid of a bullet put to the brain

Wips engraved in my back

Slave roots sinking in my blood

Slips yes M out of their mouths

My masters says hands on my back

The hope in my chest that rises in me to protest

Racial assimaltion that threatens to wash down my black roots

That causes me to hide behind my black roots

And bleach my midnight blue skin

Dark and crisp burnt by the sun

Echoes melanin

Colors bright and mysterious

Alluring and devious

And strong

inbraided in my african hair

Amercanized when I was shackled and brought

To the land of the free

Blood dripping down from mouth hit with the reality of this land of milk and honey singing sweet hyms of the promised land

That a black man gotta earn it´s name of being

A black man got no write washing his hand in the holy water

He is already christened with hate

He is already baptised in the blood-shed of his ancestors

He is already marked as another nigger

He will bow his head down and turn the another cheek

He will work until his back break

He will carry the burden of our nation africa

He will have to fight ten times harder for his birthright

To eqauilty

He will bite back his anger

He will curb his appetite to entertain such fanciful dreams

Of his baby will not be turned into a headstone

His cracked and dry with ash

Plowing hard into the ground

And reaping to find rich soil

His skin oiled to heal the from the last whip he reccived for being opened minded

He keeps his mouth shut

And mumbles grumbles this song

About a drinking gourd

The black man grows up

The whips turn to bats

The bats turn to guns

The freedom becomes

Lost in the history books

The struggle becomes blurred in the lines of hate

The hope becomes frayed

The fist pumping in the air

Turns to guns popping

We must remember that

We can´t kill hate with hate

In the words of martin Luther king I have a dream

I HAVE A Dream that one day

One day

This dream of love will prosper this earth

I hope this becomes our dream as citizens to unite and bleed color

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