Black Poetry : I Am

Discussion in 'Black Poetry - Get Your Flow On!' started by Roxanne, Oct 17, 2001.

  1. Roxanne

    Roxanne Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    I am
    A gift to my mother's womb
    Often consumed by her dreams
    It seems I am forgotten
    Only alive in her unforgiving spirit
    God's wisdom breathes life into my soul
    Behold I the peace of the strong and the free
    From slavery to enslaving my mind by choice
    Institutionalized tool on Master Degree voice
    Thinking I can speak in broken English
    From broken chains
    From broken repatriated promises
    Ink stains document my pain
    As I still remain captive
    Shackled Black
    Conceived on the back
    In the days
    My father came into my motherland
    Wonder did his hand
    Tenderly stroke her for the last time
    Before his fist hit her again and again
    Enough for her to run-a-way
    In search of her own piece of mind
    I am
    A gift made of spit and ejaculated
    Hip grips
    The lips like his
    The eyes like hers
    The lies I keep telling myself
    Ain't loving nothing like them
    Mad at him
    Angry with the gift he left
    My mother womb
    She pretending to be pleased
    She prays mostly pleading on her knees
    I stray from the middle between the two
    I am
    Where I stand knowing I really made myself
    Sometimes I scream
    Seems nothing comes out
    My ancestors refuse to let me cry again for them
    For you must know thyself
    Mother
    Father
    GOD said I don't belong to you
    Only a loan I walk as a free spirit
    I am
    Born through a mother who
    Was not angry enough
    Born through a mother who
    Would not fight back
    When strong Black fists and open hand
    To face slaps
    Born through a mother who
    "Say, Baby don't you cry no more."
    For black eyes sore and bruised
    Make it stop then I can pretend like you
    Mother
    It never happened
    Little children sleep well
    Grow up barbitually trying to forget
    Anger is a virus soaring through bloodlines
    Penitentiary time
    Kills the voice of the ancestors
    Still sit evenly positioned on both sides of the hip
    Whispering wisdom they telling me
    Strong is not determined by how hard you can hit
    But how hard something has hit you
    Yet, you survive
    I am
    A gift traveling through
    My mother's womb often consumed by her dreams
    It seems she can't see that
    I am
    Not what she was
    Not what she dreams me to be
    Not even what she see
    The strong & free spirit
    That has done what she could never do for me
    Forgive her for not becoming the gift she expected
    Looking like the father who protected by disappearing
    I am
    Self reflected from the unforgotten moment
    It took Black love to receive love
    For the ephiphany of me to be conceived
    Somebody tell my ancestors
    That sometimes I do wish to be free
    Living is much to hard
    For life is the biggest hitter
    Yet, surviving
    Somebody tell my ancestors
    I am.
     
  2. baller

    baller Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    ancestors...

    she LIVES.

    product
    of parents who
    themselves
    are enslaved
    shackled by the chains
    of abuse
    yet
    she broke the chain
    made
    of herself
    A FREE BLACK WOMAN.:)

    NO.

    you are
    the beautiful part
    of a mother who
    taught you
    not by her actions
    by her inactions
    she taught you to fight back
    ...gave you strength
    that she lacked

    by example
    she taught you
    how not to be

    in order to be free
    you must forgive
    and move on

    don't be enslaved by
    bitterness
    hatred
    ...unforgiveness

    LEARN TO FORGIVE


    A VERY NICE FLOW.
    ENJOYED IT.
     
  3. $$RICH$$

    $$RICH$$ Lyon King Admin. STAFF

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    SIMPLY BEAUTIFUL

    MOTHERLY HOPE OF POWER SHE GAVE U WITHIN
    WRITE DEM WORDZ SISTA....:heart: :kiss:
     
  4. LISTERSCRIBIN'

    LISTERSCRIBIN' Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    roxanne, i'm lovin' it...very enjoyable and the flo that followed, as well. keep on scribin', i'm watchin'.

    ~~~letthainkflo~~~
     
  5. Roxanne

    Roxanne Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    Forgiven and Moved On...

    When I was a child I pouted and resented my parents like a child, However, as an adult I realize everybody got to struggle with not only their past, but themselves to try and figure out direction. My mother and I have grown stronger over the years, as daughters, sisters in spirit and we celebrate the joy of have having one another to move on together, we survive....
    Thanx for the comments
    Rox:kiss: