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

If you're into poetry and meeting other poets, join us to remove ads and share your poetry. It's totally free.
Arcassin B Nov 12
By Arcassin Burnham

My queens , My queens , the only thing that means so
much to me is how much you wear you skin so
comfortable.
So lovely ,lovely , like black diamonds standing in the
rough , you could have short hair ,I'd still want you.
Don't try to be something your not, we all know how this goes,
You just want to impress your ghetto friends.
Two eyes , three eyes, I could see love that's pouring out of
you, you're divine, babe I need you now.

Melanin Queen,
Queen,
Queen,
Queen , Queen.
Melanin Queen,
Queen,
Queen,
Queen,Queen.
©abpoetry2018

https://arcassin.blogspot.com/2018/11/ebony.html
b mafika Nov 4
Deeper than love, deeper than me
deeper and deeper and deeper she pleads
maybe too deep that I think she's a freak
maybe too deep in the deep-end again
so deep, this time, I come across her weak
hold her close
feel her breathe
chest rise, and rise collapse
at my feet, eclipsed
in her eyes they rinse and hang me
so short lived, I wish
she could still be, I wish she believed
the same wind shaking trees
chopping waves, cools the sea, shifting clouds
til sunray-bounce off your melanin hip
- mountain range in you, snow-capped
dissolving into sea salt-spray
perfume on Cloth
grapes under foot.
I can never confuse one season for her.

-b mafika
Adaptation of a written rap
She is raw like cacao
Carries a smell of cinnamon and honey
Natural brown eumelanin skin
Everyone judges not knowing what's within

Sweet like honey,
She cures any emptiness carried in a man
Mix her with sunshine
And she glows within

Beautiful big brown eyes
No one ever takes the time to notice her
People only falsely label her and lack realization
That she's the most beautiful and radiant brown skinned girl

Sweet like honey
Beautiful brown girl
Never lose your fire
Even when the sun may not shine, you'll still always blind them

- Henessy J. Beltre
a poem to remind all the eumelanin skinned girls, including myself, that true beauty is within. we should not have to change our appearances to fit in to society's meaning of beauty. (© Henessy J. Beltre - 10.11.2018)
tempest Jul 19
can he see the blood rush to my cheeks despite having skin darker than his?
does he see my skin as a barrier or an invitation?
if he locked his fingers with mine, would he see the contrast between our colors as a masterpiece of beauty or a masterpiece of shame?
if he placed his lips on mine, would he understand my relief that something as natural as melanin (or lack thereof) couldn't restrain love?
i'll never have my answers because i'm afraid of

skin.
so this is actually the first draft of skin (2), which has been posted a bit earlier on my profile. I love both versions so much, which is why both of them still exist. I decided to write a second poem about this issue just because I felt this particular one didn’t emulate the level of fear that I wanted to get across to readers when it comes to interracial attraction.
I’m not beautiful in the ways the world wants me to be
A creation far from what you’ve seen before.
Wide nose with full lips,
brown skin and wide hips.
Internal scars from being beaten and torn,
external scars from changing through seasons.
With a gap in my teeth and confidence in my walk
I defy what has been described as the epitome of beauty.
tempest Jun 29
every person on this earth
has got a certain fear
spiders incite panic,
public speaking invokes tears

mine isn't too uncommon,
but only some women can relate
it's a special kind of fear
to a special kind of hate

it wasn't whispered in my ear
it's just something that i know
it's been ingrained since my beginning,
a part of how society flows

you see, i'm afraid of a guy.
or rather, his rejection
afraid i'm not enough
because i'm darker in complexion

did you know his hands are white?

that's why around him, my skin burns
instead of reciting numbers and letters,
what if it's racism that he learned?

i was taught to admire passions, looks, and intellectual minds
if only to darker women,
love could prove to be more kind

im 18 in year '18 but it feels like '63
hiding feelings from a whitey cause ****** is defined as me
© tempest p
Lash May 27
my creator gave me a gift,
some would say that its a curse.
losing touch with my blackness,
& its only getting worse.

are you black? are you proud?
inhibition seems so loud.
the war on my melanin,
the war on what's within.

why they killing our black?
is it because of what they lack?
would i be more comfortable if i looked like him?
my saviour, with the whitest skin.
or the people that white out sins.

i am a product of divine truth.
which is why they poison my mind,
poison the things around me,
try to make me blind.
but when your fate is in the hands of greater,
the creator.
she'll rise no matter how low you take her.

there's a war on my consciousness.
there's a war & i am conscious.

i am soul, something they cant comprehend.
& because i am soul, i always win in the end.
for in the physical battle i may have no control.
to live in a lie, & go off of what i'm told.
how hateful, soul-less, apathetic one must be.
to dismiss what is real & challenge the way we see.
but, i see beyond the lies.
& i question what you've taught me.
i am aware of your poison,
devil get up off me.
Delamusiq May 3
For the thought of your dreams my mind races
Mad dashs ,shocked faces
But to stare that glint by starlight drapped the caresses of your hair
I trip to find me on your line
Oh right beautiful fields ,waisted time
Your waist on mine
Just a taste , said at nine
we set pace after that line
..

Picture frames on baby's painted nails
Paint me in fame, she replied your insane
Washed face paint dowm drain ,she never kisses again
Her company other then other men is my brother then i move this pen
Words are zen , cherry flavored summer flows
Grass blues and sky growth
Twisted pages on saturn sing burns and we take turns on the wave frank ocean plays
Delamusiq May 3
Pillows lay the case to wake up past 3 oclock
Face faded in dreams make razors on cheek comfortable to me
Blond bold because i barely gave red a try
Is breakfast ready for me
Backing beauty with a blue t , turning to me all bright and free , afro messy , eyes maybe brown, maybe green
Did i mention i couldnt see
Reality just came back to me
Even tho these eyes rarely catch seas
I still see star shaped almonds in cereal bowls put before see


Meet her meteor shower plastic kungfu hopes
My mettle met with metal, she was bars for the screen
So in between things, i smell scent and add my two cents
But when change comes short,  gasoline gases up things
Thunder booms and she can never quite see was behindthe bangs
But that's another thing cause cereal is really tho
Another taste of almomd milk cheerios
Next page