I Am the Darker Brother: An Anthology of Modern Poems by African Americans by Arnold AdoffPoetry
This book is a very powerful collection of poems written by African Americans. Some poems were lighthearted and happy and others were written with anger and dismay. They talked about everything from slavery, to discrimination, to love, to the earth, to being comfortable in your own skin. What is great about this book, is that no matter who is reading it, there is a poem that they can relate to in the book. Everyone has had a struggle in life, and these poems embody the everyday struggles of African Americans. This is a great book for youth to be exposed to so they can gain insight into some of this great literature written by African Americans. It is not too often that works like these are showcased and it would be great to have students read and learn using this collection.
Prentice Powell *Poetry on THE SYSTEM - The Black Condition* From "Verses and Flow" (Better Copy)
These Four Poems About Black Hair, Resistance, and Love Will Brighten Your Day
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Lamont Lilly is a NC based journalist, activist and community organizer. The presented selections are from his forthcoming debut Honor in the Ghetto Fall Plain but poignant, his poetry directly derives from the marginalized, from the streets of mass struggle, freedom fighting and the continued pursuit of Black Liberation. The Black Youth Project is a platform that highlights the voices and ideas of Black millennials. Through knowledge, voice, and action, we work to empower and uplift the lived experiences of young Black Americans today.
Words that make us feel heard and understood, that acknowledge our pain and how heavy life can feel. And sometimes we also need to get put back together again; to be reminded of the ways we can get through this, how we have overcome, and how, despite it all, life gives us hope. Let this collection of poems about life help you feel heard, comforted, and give voice to whatever hurts or heals right now. I walk in the dark and trip and fall and get up and step blindly on the mute stones and dry leaves and someone behind me is also walking: if I stop, he stops; if I run, he runs. I turn around: no one. Everything is black, there is no exit, and I turn and turn corners that always lead to the street where no one waits for me, no one follows, where I follow a man who trips and gets up and says when he sees me: no one. Your absence has gone through me Like thread through a needle.
12 Poems to Read for Black History Month - February is Black History Month, and urged in this poem is not a list of accomplishments, but a way of being alive.
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YES I'M BLACK!
With a little over a week left in Black History Month, there are some raw details about our history in America that everyone should hear. What better way to convey these necessary details than through poetry and spoken word? These poets in the nine poems we've rounded up unabashedly retell our history, dispel stereotypes and celebrate our culture. They speak of our ancestors, our resiliency and our magic. Watch the videos below and get lost in what it means to be black in America.
February is Black History Month, and to celebrate the contributions black poets have made, and continue to make, to the richness of American poetry, we asked twelve contemporary black poets from across the country to choose one poem that should be read this month and to tell us a bit about why. Them lounging streetcornerwise in our consciousness under some flickered neon of mannish-boy dream. Someplace where the rhyme is always as good as the reason, anyplace where the cost of gin is precious enough to thin but solemn enough to pour on the sidewalk for the departed, anyplace where the schools are overcrowded and underfunded and black and brown enough to not really miss the Seven, who were underperforming on the standardized tests and had been diagnosed as ADD or BDD status anyway. Anyplace where sin gets hymned out—straitlaced into storefront chapels on Sunday mornings—but sewn back into Saturday night doo-wopped breakbeats, finger-snapped shuffles of promise. We know the Seven. Know them like our neighbor's boy gone bloodied to bullets.