Poetry Journal

This is a dumping ground for all of my poetry.

0Likes
0Comments
275Views
AA

1. Civil Rights Movement Poetry

I sat at my desk.

Outside the door

A sign said the words

White Only.

 

White people were

Outside. They shouted

“Go back to the trash

Negroes!”

 

I don’t know why

Black kids invade

Me.

 

A woman came in.

She was black and

Inferior.

 

“What are you

Doing here you-”

“Stop!”

 

She said. “Don’t ever

Use that word on

My people.”

 

“I am a human too,

And I will be treated

Equal.”

 

Then she left. I never

Forgot her, or her

Words.

*********************************************************************************************************************************

As Mommy holds me, I look around at this strange place.

Men and women with peachy skin stand holding boards with scribbles on them.

They yell at a girl with pretty skin that reminds me of chocolate.

There are short walls holding everyone back from going where the girl with pretty skin is.

They try to get over the walls, but men stop them.

They wear shirts the color of the walls that I always bump into.

More men stand with the pretty girl.

They all are wearing clothes the color of the stuff that comes out of my mouth, and carry long sticks.

I just don’t understand.

I don’t understand why men with long sticks stand everywhere.

I don’t understand why people are yelling and trying to get the the pretty girl.

I don’t understand why the peachy people are repeating the word “kill”.

And I don’t understand why they won’t just go home!

*********************************************************************************************************************************

Central High is white.

I wear a white dress.

I am in a hallway with

White walls, white floors, white ceilings,

And white people.

Even the air is white.

The white people chase me, sometimes close enough to tear my white dress,

Sometimes far enough I can’t even see their white glow.

But then they appear again, pulling at my white dress.

We run fast enough that the walls make a white blur.

Obscenities form white words in the white air,

Created by the white people.

Everything is white.

Everything, except for me.

*********************************************************************************************************************************

I wish I was a warrior.

But every time I hear that word,

It’s in the halls,

And I clench my fist to punch the speaker.

But the speaker never gains a black eye.

So I am not a warrior.

 

I wish I was a warrior.

But every time I hear that word,

It’s passed to them on a note,

And I pull out paper to tell them “You’re Beautiful”.

But it stays in my hands, crumpled into a ball.

So I am not a warrior.

 

I wish I was a warrior.

But every time I hear that word,

It’s whispered in their ears,

And I step forward to hug the victim.

But my arms stand crossed.

So I am not a warrior.

 

I wish I was a warrior.

But every time I hear that word,

It’s chanted over and over again,

And I want to chant “Stop!”

But I am silent.

So I am not a warrior.

 

I wish I was a warrior.

But every time I hear that word,

It’s followed by an empty threat of death,

And I step forward to give a lesson to the person that dares.

But death is in my heart.

So I am not a warrior.

 

I wish I was a warrior.

But every time I hear that word,

There are cheers for the warrior of the segregationists.

And I try to be a warrior.

But warriors don’t cry.

So I am not a warrior.

 

Every time I hear that word,

I wish I could be a warrior for the Little Rock Nine.

So I become one.

 

Now every time I hear that word,

It’s in the halls,

And I clench my fist to punch the speaker.

And the speaker gains a black eye.

So I am a warrior.

 

Now every time I hear that word,

It’s passed to them on a note,

And I pull out paper to tell them “You’re Beautiful”.

And it leaves my hands, folded into a flower.

So I am a warrior.

 

Now every time I hear that word,

It’s whispered in their ears,

And I step forward to hug the victim,

And my arms enfold the student.

So I am a warrior.

 

Now every time I hear that word,

It’s chanted over and over again,

And I want to chant “Stop!”

And my voice is louder than everything else.

So I am a warrior.

 

Now every time I hear that word,

It’s followed by an empty threat of death,

And I step forward to give a lesson to the person that dares.

And my heart gains life.

So I am a warrior.

 

I wish I was a warrior.

But every time I hear that word,

There are cheers for the warrior of the segregationists.

And I try to be a warrior.

But warriors don’t cry.

So I am a warrior.

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...