| Commentary and Philosophy Poetry
posted July 6, 2022
A poem from my troubled youth
A world where one black will pull the other one down,
and spit on him and put his face to the ground.
A world where a girl will become your friend,
so you can do her school work and on you she can depend.
She will take advantage of you,
and leave you hanging when she’s all through.
A world where a boy will tell you he loves you and all the sweet things you want to hear,
And then he will leave you stranded.
You’re no longer a girl, but a mother my dear.
A world where you work hard but still don’t get ahead.
Where you pray and cry.
You might as well be dead.
A world where you give your trust and try to take an honest stand.
But the whites won’t give you a chance because you’re darn black man.
People tell you, you’re gifted and everything will turn out swell.
But you know different for you’re still living in hell.
You cry for recognition.
You cry for a little love.
But seemed you have been cursed by the Almighty from above.
So you turn to the bad ways of life and leave the good behind.
And you cursed the ground you were born on
And became a smelly swine.
A swine out on the street, staggering alone.
With hell your resting place and death your only home.
This dog eat dog world.
Share with us one of your oldest pieces of poetry, exactly as you wrote it. I want to see all those excessive ellipses, capitals at the start of every line, the abundance of semi-colons, the pretentious repetition, the unnecessary line spaces that are.....
to my art!
I want you to swear on your honour you won't edit it before posting (adding an image is allowed, as we're in Fanstory Land). Other than that, no limitations. For example, I have one in my repertoire entitled 'Political Correctness' that's literally just a blank page (I was a very sarcastic teenager). For a more useful example, here's the first recorded poem I have of mine - my Nan confirmed I was 8 at the time:
Quietly the clouds move in,
Looking like the hair of an old person.
Then very slowly,
The dandruff starts to fall.
Everything as still as the sleeping mouse,
Everything as quiet as the forest at night.
Until the morning spreads over the soggy landscape,
And children chant their cheers from their places of rest
As they look at the white floor outside.
And the still and silence is no more.
Show us what you had :-)
Show us Your Early Poetry
This poem was written in 1966 at the age of 12 in Mary Elizabeth Caldwell's 7th grade English class. It was found in a box labeled with my name in the basement of her home after her death. Also in the box were other items I created in her class. There were several short stories, another poem, a book of pressed autumn leaves, several rolled-up murals. All of these items were in my original 12-year-old handwriting. I now have all of them. It was as if she thought one day, I might be a poet or writer. I miss her.
and 2 member cents.
Photo ~free Bing picture
You need to login
to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.
© Copyright 2024.
All rights reserved.
has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.