heartbreak
They can break your heart, but they can't break your soul; poetry about lost love that comforts and uplifts.
To Be
I would rather be by myself, alone, than be Mis-used by others. Copyright © 8/18/2024 by Andrea O. Corwin I am grateful you read my work! 😃 If you liked it, please give it a ♡, and drop a comment. You can subscribe for free and BAM💥My content will come to when you enable notifications. . - - Andi
By Andrea Corwin 2 years ago in Poets
Voices of Melanin
In the mirror, my skin sings songs of the earth, Deep as the night, rich with untold worth. Yet in the streets, whispers turn to screams, Shadows of hate cast over my dreams. My skin, a tapestry of history’s grace, Woven with struggles, etched on my face. But they see darkness, a reason to fear, Blind to the light that shines so clear. Words like chains, heavy and cold, Binding our stories, left untold. But in our hearts, we carry the sun, A burning truth that can't be undone. They shout, "Too much," they shout, "Too loud," Yet we stand tall, unbowed, unbowed. For every slur is a battle won, In the war for justice, that’s just begun. Our melanin, not a mark of shame, But a crown of pride, we reclaim our name. From whispered slurs to outright cries, We rise, we rise, through tear-filled eyes. They fear our power, our radiant hue, But we are the dawn, breaking through. In every step, in every breath, We walk through life, defying death. So let them speak, let them sneer, For we are the future they secretly fear. A world reborn, where love prevails, Where blackness thrives, and never fails. In the mirror, my skin still sings, Of freedom’s promise, and all it brings.
By Jariatu Kallon2 years ago in Poets
Dark side of Ebola in Africa
In the heart of Africa, where rivers run deep, A silent whisper wakes, disturbing sleep. It comes in shadows, unseen, unheard, A fevered breath, a fatal word. Ebola, they say, with fear in their eyes, A name that echoes, a name that cries. It slips through villages, quiet as night, Leaving only sorrow in its dreadful flight. Mothers wail, their children gone, Fathers kneel, hope withdrawn. The soil bears witness to tears and grief, As life is stolen, swift and brief. In white suits, the healers fight, But the battle is dark, and there's little light. The land, once vibrant, now wears a shroud, Beneath the weight of a deadly cloud. Yet in this storm, we find our grace, In the clasped hands, in the human race. For every tear that falls in pain, A spirit rises to heal again. Africa, strong in every bone, Even in darkness, you're never alone. For in your heart, the sun will rise, And cleanse the blood from your skies. Ebola may come, and Ebola may go, But the strength of a people will always grow.
By Jariatu Kallon2 years ago in Poets
