Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Marie-Lyne Jul 2019
That’s the thing about lived realities
They are not expectations
Nor stereotypes about cultures
They are the opposite of common knowledge
How about we document our life and get rid of these misconceptions?
emrullah Jul 2019
Growing up between
two cultures
too less for some
too much for others
too many expectations
no middle
Krystle OBrien Apr 2019
To see the world
It opens your eyes
Experiencing cultures
And their way of life

No words can explain
The emotions can be much
To gain something new
And have a fresh outlook

Constant learning of different ways
Broaden your being
It grows you as a person
Humbled, grounded & joyous

Heat and dryness of the desert
The openness of the ocean
The world so vast and extraordinary
With so many things to offer

Music, food, traditions
So different yet the same
Benefitting worldly wisdom
With a great deal still to wander
دema Apr 2019
the first time
our lips met
didn't feel foreign,
it was as if
you were my home
and I had only just
entered your land,
then took a taste of the berry tree
which my greatest grandma had grew,
in either ways;
she would be
bebe = grandma in my language (Iraqi)
Justyn Huang Dec 2018
my Father planted
the seed, yet
The flower.

What kind of
shall we sow?
Family generation cultures
Daniel eason Oct 2018
These shamanic cultures in which we don't seem to mention
Could do with us taking our time to pay them more attention
As these people know the ways our of earth
They know they are one with nature straight from birth
The places they visit
Our holy spirit
Inside everything you and I
No need to suffer and cry
It's located in your pineal third gland eye
A poem on how native tribes have alot more knowledge than we think. We are the ones who could take a leaf out of their books. Let's look in the mirror for a moment.
Nomkhumbulwa Aug 2018
A poem to my People:

"I love you all dearly,
but I know that you have gone;
I see you all here daily,
but I know that you have gone.

I don’t blame you, I understand you,
And I know that I bring shame;
But I also understand,
that I was not to blame.

I know I won’t be welcome likely
ever there again,
And although you may not believe me
I don’t want to cause you pain.

I hope for your forgiveness,
Although I did no wrong;
I hope someday you'll understand
that I did no wrong.

I have tried to make contact,
but you never spoke again;
And because you are so many,
this causes so much pain.

But I guess that you have gone now,
and forever that may be,
If he only hadn’t hung himself,
you might have believed me.

But now that I know,
that I’m not the only one,
I understand the "dark side"
more than anyone.

I understand the culture,
its different where I live;
And although I hope for change for all,
I as yet can just forgive.

I hold nothing against you,
as I said - I understand;
but I hope that in the future,
heads won’t be buried in the sand.

I rarely write poetry,
but this is all I can do;
as a way to get my thoughts across
to so many of you.

I live here in Scotland,
I don’t need to be ashamed;
here on this "Isle of Arran",
I am never blamed.

I hope that St Helena
one day will see it too;
that "there is no excuse for abuse"
no matter "who is who".

It’s sad to lose the RMS,
the most loyal Saint of all,
but she is serving us still by
opening the island to the World.

Opinions might be questioned,
from cultures far and wide,
but with that I hope you'll see
that I have nothing to hide.

Through my bad experiences
I have gained a lot as well,
I have an understanding of
all the people put through hell.

I know I’m one of many,
I know I’m not alone;
together we share this deep connection
to a place that some call "home".

I hope one day you'll forgive me,
as I forgive you,
for treating me the only way
that you knew.

The RMS is serving us,
by opening up this land;
If she stayed forever-
you might never understand.

She may be just a ship to some,
but to me she’s so much more;
She has a soul, a personality,
she had to leave our shores.

We have a lot in common,
both feeling as if "disposed of";
but I do hope we won’t end up scrapped,
and still receive some love.

I'll love you all forever,
even if I hear nothing again;
and I don’t regret my visit,
even though I "caused you pain"

You may not understand just yet,
but I hope one day you will;
and with more education,
the Island will be better still.

I stand by the others,
as they have done for me;
and I’m forever grateful
to my "extra family".

I wish you well for now,
as I’m tired and can write no more;
and I just hope that one day
Such darkness shall leave these shores.”

Take care,
love **
A desperate plea to "my people" who never spoke again, after I was subjected to assault.  They disappeared from my life completely.
Jiawen 张 Apr 2018
We, the humans.
Born like pieces of plain paper.
To live is to paint.
Every single step adds different colors.
The Black.
Rich like the soil on the earth.
The beauty of colourful cultures.
The White.
Clean like the snow in the winter.
The beauty of pure winter wonderland.
The Latinos.
Sweet like the chocolate in your mouth.
The beauty of black and white.
The Asians.
Deep like the book in your hands.
The beauty of ancient wisdom.
The Natives.
Pure like the earth under your feet.
The beauty of nature as it is.
If white is added to cover all colors,
Everything will be white washed.
If there is only white in this world,
There will be no other colors on the earth.
We, the humans.
We are one species on the earth.
We all bleed.
Red inside.
From a colored female
Blanche Feb 2018
Our fate was written in the
folds of your mother and grandmother's saris, beautifully
intertwined with the gold patterns on
the long sheets of fabric.
It was written in the
hem of my father's hockey jersey, patriotic
to our love just as my father
is to his team and city.

And yet, not even the promises we made to
each other could hide the fact that a bindi does
not belong on my forehead, and that
you belong in a cricket field, not an arena.
Next page