A poem by Nikki Giovanni


         Kidnap Poem

ever been kidnapped
by a poet
if i were a poet
i'd kidnap you
put you in my phrases and meter
you to jones beach
or maybe coney island
or maybe just to my house
lyric you in lilacs
dash you in the rain
blend into the beach
to complement my see
play the lyre for you
ode you with my love song
anything to win you
wrap you in the red Black green
show you off to mama
yeah if i were a poet i'd kid
nap you

Nikki Giovanni is one of the best-known African-American poets who reached prominence during the late 1960s and early 1970s.  Besides being  a world-renowned poet, she is a writer, commentator, activist, and educator. 

My Identity

Some thought I was just another brother from the hood.

The extent of my worth was seldom understood.

I constantly struggled to sustain my identity.

A free spirit is seldom allowed to fly free.

Few people tried to know me.

They were so distracted by what they could see,

They never really took the time to look inside of me.

They tried hard to keep me working below my capacity.

They never saw the battle inside.

It was something I felt I had to hide.

I wanted to show them a different side of me.

But, they were threatened by my creativity.

They wouldn’t allow me to speak my mind.

So, they proceeded to rob my spirit blind.

I wasted so much of my life just trying to be,

But no one was able to accept my identity.

In memory of Tupac Shakur

May your spirit live on through your poetry.

I thought I had lost this poem, but the lost has been found.  I'd like to share it with you.

American Poetry Month (cont'd)

Although my poetry is not what I consider conventional poetry, I have a love for poetry in any form.  Here is another of my favorites by Robert Frost.

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost

American Poetry Month Post (continued)

As I was going through another of my favorite poets poems, this one caught my eye.

I think he eloquently makes the statement that regardless of whether we are white or black, we all eat, sleep, fall in love, even like some of the same things.    I think if we let go of our predisposed dislike for one another, we'd find we are more alike than not alike, and spite of our differences, we are all the same.

 

 

Theme For English B by Langston Hughes

The instructor said,

Go home and write
a page tonight.
And let that page come out of you--
Then, it will be true.

I wonder if it's that simple?
I am twenty-two, colored, born in Winston-Salem.
I went to school there, then Durham, then here
to this college on the hill above Harlem.
I am the only colored student in my class.
The steps from the hill lead down into Harlem,
through a park, then I cross St. Nicholas,
Eighth Avenue, Seventh, and I come to the Y,
the Harlem Branch Y, where I take the elevator
up to my room, sit down, and write this page:

It's not easy to know what is true for you or me
at twenty-two, my age. But I guess I'm what
I feel and see and hear, Harlem, I hear you:
hear you, hear me--we two--you, me, talk on this page.
(I hear New York, too.) Me--who?
Well, I like to eat, sleep, drink, and be in love.
I like to work, read, learn, and understand life.
I like a pipe for a Christmas present,
or records--Bessie, bop, or Bach.
I guess being colored doesn't make me not like
the same things other folks like who are other races.
So will my page be colored that I write?

Being me, it will not be white.
But it will be
a part of you, instructor.
You are white--
yet a part of me, as I am a part of you.
That's American.
Sometimes perhaps you don't want to be a part of me.
Nor do I often want to be a part of you.
But we are, that's true!
As I learn from you,
I guess you learn from me--
although you're older--and white--
and somewhat more free.

This is my page for English B.

Favorite Poets

This poem needs no introduction. 
It is written by one of the greatest poets.

The Mask
By Maya Angelou

Celebrating American Poetry Month

The month of April is declared American Poetry month.  I will be sharing with you the poetry of a few of my favorite poets.

The first one I am starting with is Tupac Shakur.  I am starting with him because I feel he was a gifted writer who was taken away in his prime.  The poem I am sharing is from his book, The Rose That Grew from the Concrete.

"The Shining Star Within"

Secrets R hidden within the clouds
of Darkness.
And in this place no one Dares 2 Breathe
in Fear of self-expression
It has been this way
forever and a day
until she came 2 shine
with a spark of innocence and questions
only 2 be answered with Darkness
Not just Darkness but the silent kind
That steals your soul and kills your mind
There was no compassion
for this thriving star
only exploitations
and confused jealousy
u saw no hope and brought the end
Never acknowledging the star within

This poem was dedicated to Marilyn Monroe

Hate is My Name

Hate is my name.

Death is my game.

I’ve been at this game for years.

I like to bring heartache and tears.

I started my take over long ago.

I’ve taken out many people you know.

Emmett Till

Was one of my well-known kills.

Great men have died at my hands.

Throughout the years, I gained many fans.

I've taken out dignitaries, rulers and Kings,

I assassinated Abraham Lincoln, Martin Luther King,

John F. Kennedy and Malcolm X.

Who knows who will be next?

You might say I’m bold,

Hard-hearted, calculating and cold,

But truth be told,

I have resided in many a Christian soul.

No one is safe when I’m in town.

It doesn’t take long for me to gain my ground.

You see, I’m fed well every day.

If you keep feeding me, I will continue to blow your children away,

And make you pay the cost.

Many innocent lives will be lost.

The lives of countless children and babies will be taken in my name.

You see, there is no shame in my game.

Hate is my name.

Death is my only game.

Copyright by P. Newman-Harris

In memory of Trayvon Martin and all those innocent victims of hate crimes.
I pray one day soon, the violence will end, and hate will be put to rest
So that I children might be blessed.

Song:  Together We Are One
By Delta Goodrem