Skip to main content

Black Woman by Naomi long Madgett

My hair is springy like the forest grasses
That cushion the feet of squirrels
Crinkled and blown in a south breeze
Like the small leaves of native bushes.
My black eyes are coals burning
Like a low, full, jungle moon
Through the darknewss of being.
In a clear pool I see my face.
Know my knowing.

My hands move pianissimo
Over the music of the night:
Gentle birds fluttering through leaves and grasses
They have not always loved,
Nesting, finding home.

Where are my lovers?
Where are my tall, my lovely princes
Dancing slow in grace
Toward knowledge of my beauty?
Where
Are my beautiful
Black men?

Comments

Tea said…
Oooooh, your poem is wonderful. I have to fb it and tweet it. Thank you
Tea said…
Don't see how to tweet it.
Sidne,the BCR said…
hey you should post this at www.whatshereads.blogspot.com. she has a poetry meme going on. love this one.check out mine on my page too.
bookaddict4real said…
Thanks for sharing this I thought Ihad my tweet button on here I will have to fix this.

Popular posts from this blog

Poem: In Texas Grass by Quincy Troupe

All along the rail
                                road tracks of texas
                               old train cars lay
                               rusted &overturned
                              like new african governments
                             long forgotten by the people
                              who built & rode them
                                till they couldn't run no more,
                              they remind me of old race horses
                             who've been put out to pasture
                            amongst the weeds
                            rain sleet &snow
                            till they die,rot away
                            like photos fading
                           in grandma's picture book,
                         of old black men in mississippi/texas
                         who sit on dilapidated porches,
                        that fall away
                       like dead man'…

The Speed of Belief by Tracy K Smith (poem)

I didn't want to wait on my knees
In a room made quiet by waiting. A room where we'd listen for the rise
Of breath, the burble in his throat. I didn't want the orchids or the trays
Of food meant to fortify that silence, Or to pray for him to stay or to go then
Finally toward that ecstatic light I didn't want to believe
What we believe in those rooms: That we are blessed, letting go,
Letting someone, anyone, Drag open the drapes and heave us Bak into our blinding, bright lives When your own sweet father died You woke before first light And ate half a plate of eggs and grits, And Drank a glass of milk. After  you'd left, I sat in your place And finished  the toast bits with jam And the cold eggs, the thick bacon Flanged in fat , savoring the taste. Then I slept, too young to know how narrow And grave the road before you seemed--- All the houses zipped tight , the night's Few clouds muddy as cold coffee. You stayed gone a week, and who were we Without your clean p…

The Life I led by Nikki Giovanni (poem)

i know my upper arms will grow
flabby it's true
of all the women in my family
i know that the purple views
like dead fish in Seine
will dot my legs one day
and my hands will wither while
my hair turns grayish white I know that
one day my teeth will move when
my lips smile
and a flutter of hair will appear
below my nose I hope
my skin doesn't change to those blotchy
colors

i want my menses to be undifficult
i'd  very much prefer staying firm and slim
to grow old like a vintage wine fermenting
in old wooden vats with style
i'd like to be exquisite  I think

i will look forward to grandchildren
and my flowers  all my knickknacks in their places
and that quiet of the bombs not falling on Cambodia
settling  over my sagging breasts

i hope my shoulder finds a head that needs nestling
and my feet find a footstool after a good soaking
with Epsom salts

i hope I die
warmed
by the life I tried
to live