Learn more about other poetry terms
The Seattle Skyline at Half Past Three. It never meant that much to me. The Seattle Skyline at Six'till Four. I've never wanted so much more.
My slam coaches and judges tell me That I mumble too much Something about how I speak when I’m on stage I have this almost drawl
You wouldn’t think His eyes would shine so bright Beneath those clouds that fog his sight But they’ve been aglow since ‘25 You wouldn’t think he would be so kind
Dear Water, You have always been the love, Life of my Body. From my very existence, I have had you, By my side nurturing me. I could not live,
There amongst the fallen trees and rivers of black. Voices and laughter can be heard across the trees, the autumn leaves soak up my mother's blood. Stars once shimmered and danced across the skies,
Roaming In the hallways not quite belonging Squeezing Into a space, where there was never place I am not alone In this daily struggle
Turn over your hands, let me read the lines. I'll feel the aches in those curves, read the letters between the creases in your skin. The soles beneath your shoes smell of sun-baked earth.
My mixed blood pulses through my heart and each beat resonates inside my skull. My damp hair, black as a moonless night sky, is sticking to the nape of my neck and hanging limply over my shoulders.
My people hunted here, Where white people now stand, And where are my brothers, In Oklahoma, where we were pushed away. My friends are hated, For being black, Asian or Hispanic,
I'm so sick and tired of these white lines and white liesPop a xany and everything'll be alrightfit into society, dark aint right So where do I fit?What do i miss?Having my braids and feathers without feeling shame I missThese priveledged people t
“A time comes when silence is betrayal”When the government's stops telling you what is happening you are doomed to an endless life of misinformation and lies spread thick and thin on propaganda cloaked as movie posters and pop culture. Because w
When the wind blows And the sky fogs Up my picture in the mirror When the river roars And the birds soar Above the woods we roamed When the cliffs spike And the rocks fall
Look, Mommy! I grab the bleach blonde Fake ponytail extension From the Target shelf And place it, like a crown, atop my frizzy chestnut brown curls. Mommy, can I have it please?
Lonewolf Not lonely, loved her family. Not alone, but strong enough to do it on her own.
My own country, but I don’t own my land. I used to put my hand through the orange sand. My brother and I would count pejig, nij.
Oh, grandmother With your white-white hair and your pale skin you protected from the sun Did you have any regrets? Were you thankful for the gift you were given? The gift to pass as white?
I drudge myself to a rangewhere boys were buzzingby the riflesFantasizing themselves as Cowboysriding the long ride togetherI tried my hand at the complex contraption
On this November day, I want for my people.I want our voices to be heard,To be appreciated for our history, our present and our future.
From when were young, To when were old, We are always learning, From teachers to parents, From elders to others,
I am from the tribe. From the ancestors and animals. My skin betraying the darkness it should be. I am from the native, yet I am also from the irish man. I am from the mix.
land of the free, home of the brave forced to conform forget your culture we'll beat the indian out of you conform, be like us or humiliated shunned unaccepted be like us or get out