Hello Poetry is an open poetry community that raises money by advertising to passing readers like yourself.

If you're into poetry and people who're into poetry, join the community to remove ads and share your poetry. It's totally free.
Let's start at the very beginning

Brown skin. Flat nose. Short.
I was a free land for you to take.
For once I was in glee.
Until you had me taken and used.
You have forgotten who you are.

Chapter 1.
A blank page. A mystery.
Who were you really?

Chapter 2.
White skin. Pointed Nose. Tall.
A variety of people I didn't recognize.
You welcomed them while some fought with blood.
This is what you've done.
You have sold who you are.

Chapter 3.
The never-ending battle.
The battle within oneself.
You told yourself you are free.
There are no battles, no blood, no freedom.
You have forgotten what freedom is.

Chapter 4.
There are battles. There is blood.
Yet you have chosen to close your eyes.
Is this the love you have proclaimed for me?
You have helped no one with your steels and wood.

Chapter 5.
You freed yourselves from the dictator.
But there is still no peace at hand.
You all drown from the deep flood.
Yet you'd rather race each other to the shore.
Haven't you realized? You are not in the sea.

Chapter 6.
You are not at land either.
At least not ours.
You step at our muddy lands yet your mind is far from home.
You scrub your skin until its white.
To you, your skin is dirt.

Chapter 7.
Across the land, some eyes are red.
Their hands are rough with dirt,
clutching unto a plastic that smells.
It dives unto their minds and they smiled.
I wasn't able to protect them when you saw them with a bullet in their heads.

Chapter 8.
Mothers and Fathers that I raised
Have left me and you as well
To be able to put zero's in your wallets
They fight with their hands so rough
You. For you. But what about me? How about me?

Chapter 9.
It's an unending cycle of a triangular shape.
You fall. I fall. Some rise.
You all have lost hope and wish to leave me so soon.
Is this really who you are?
Will I never find who I truly am?

Chapter 10.
An empty page.
The writer of the book grew tired.
He didn't continue— or he never got to.
No one really knew.

The page was not there.
Ripped like a masterpiece.
A painting of blood along its back.

I am an open book, ready for anyone to read.
Yet you have flipped me close and left me to fill with dust.
You have left me on the bookshelf
and slept in a locked room.
Something for my country.
Kenechukwu Sep 9
I am being pulled from left to right
Every candidate claiming to be the light
Promising heaven, earth and even twilight
Once they win they forget you and take flight.

Gun to our heads by the future leader
'Better vote wisely or become a casper'
Ballot boxes filled with forged paper
Hold your peace or it is a recipe for disaster.

If wishes were real, beggars would ride
Voted for a meal, while the politicians lied
my country is a deal, sold as a cheap bride
All they do is steal, it's time to say goodbye.

You know we are back to the embers'
there's always someone's blood they forget to remember
Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms!
We are in a fine mess with honorable villions.
My view on elections and voting in some countries.
Our children screams
As loud as they can
Don't shoot them in the face
They are just afraid
Don't look them in the eyes
They are begging for mercy
They don't wanna hide

Our history burns
The anthem is silence
A country with no rules
Where the people are blind
The government hides
The mess and the chaos

There is no life
We lost it waiting in line
Bleeding because of a lost bullet
Screaming for help
But no one hears
Until we die
Until we are silent

The future is dark
We can't see it through the smoke
Our television is rose colored
Always telling lies
And I can't decide
If I fight for this country
Or let it die
Vexren4000 Aug 31
A spray of cruelty,
Foolhardy words and policies,
Dogmatic religions and cruel humans,
Allowed to flood beautiful places,
Because we give them the benefit,
Of the doubt.
Bethie Aug 30
I'll never live in the city
In the crowds and the bustle
I'd never ever trade my home
For the traffic and the hustle
• • •
I'd miss my ol dirt road
I'd miss the country air
Just being in the city
Makes me country-er, I swear
• • •
I'm really not a hic
But being in the city
Makes even country music
Go from ugly to quite pretty
• • •
That being said, I have to say
That cities aren't so bad
It's just that I'm a country girl
And home is where I'm glad
Jack L Martin Aug 23
Jim was a man from the country
he rode horses around a big fun tree
the horses would buck, which was really bad luck
cause poor Jim cracked his coccyx abruptly!
Jack L Martin Aug 23
Frickin' freckin' fruckin' fruck
Fifty bucks to fix my truck
Pockets empty
Out of luck
I'm stuck here now
The people,
The land,
The waters,
The opportunity,
The selflessness,
The confidence,
The change,
The error,
The sights,
The air
Can form any terrain's person and pride
Into something magnificent county-wide!
From my poetry journal.
I grew up in the country
Where greens and blues reign supreme
Where the stars shine bright at night
And the air smells like the air

I grew up in the country
Where your friends are really friends
Where animals run amok
And I relish the warm sun

Now I live in the city
Where it's grey as far as sight
Where the sky is just a haze
And now I cant even breathe

Now I live in the city
Where most your friends are strangers
Where horns and smoke rule the road
And I lock myself at home

I want to go home
Where the grass touches the sky
Where the clouds are white
And I can take a deep breath

I want to go home
Where I can trust peers freely
Where I can hear myself think
And I be free once more
It's so flat and featureless
you can see into tomorrow
and back to yesterday.
A Texas poem.
Next page