Black Poetry : Scenario Tyme!!! Attention all poets!!!!

[triniti424]

and i wonder...how would the rest of our new famlee attempt this one

 

[$$RICH$$]

This one shook me and took me so now i wanna see coz i'm coming back to thee

 

[watzinaname]

When I met
poetry, at first I was too
interested in trying
to rhyme, so I paused for a few...
And then the colors became vivid
My mind kissed each hue
and thought, yes, kind friend
so glad to meet you...
Is red blood?
Is it a rose?
It could be love
I suppose
But then in another shade it's pink,
delicate and shyly soft,
or so one would think.
Or what about blue
awash in the ocean?
Or green, full of
life in motion...
A yellow daffodil
fed by the golden sun
with silver showers
shimmering over everyone
Immersed in a rainbow
of thoughts and images abound
I'd certainly be lost these days
without my friend poetry around....

 

[PropheticNsyght]

I experienced her
on a sunny day...
I was alone and
it was mid afternoon.
She sat down next to me.
Lawd, she was butterscotch, gorgeous and
highbrow.
I was in the middle of
reading Nikki Giovanni when she said
she wanted to talk.
Word? Hmmmm aiight.
Ma said she wanted to
speak about my life's position and the ambitions
I harbored.
"Yo, I express myself through written imagery."
She smiles and the subject changes.
She was breezy and idyllic,
like rolling hills or walks on the beach.
And we...were good, no interruptions, no misunderstandings,
just good.
She made love to me,
taking me higher to a level of un-repentant
transcendency.
Lawd, ma was fiery like hot coals and lava.
She touched me deeply and
sparked...
New.
She left me streaming, streaming like urine from a drunk man.
The problem was born.
Love and written images slipped from my lips, slid down my chin
and puddled on my paper.
Ya boi was caught, and I could not see,
My earth slipping of its axis
or the
fact that I completely gave all of me to
a butterscotch, beauty named
POETRY. ​

 

[queentswana]

sho-nuff must be :luvv:

I've thought about it for many years,
and cried so many, many tears

Always hiding under cover,
suddenly "pain"...became my lover

Me and my "pain" keep a shield...from the world,
til my hands kept moving, to the shape of a pearl

Well there must be a reason, for this pen in my hand,
to expose of these feelings...the only way I can

I learn that my "pain", was just poetry in drag...
and that the "poetry" in me...was the best thing I had

It reduced all my pressures, that was pinned up inside...
had it not been for "poetry" ...my poor heart would have died​