𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 ✍︎︎.
a/n- this poem is dedicated to a special someone & i thought about her today.❤︎︎
(this poem is about me accepting the idea of someone loving me (inner thoughts fr.)
if i could just articulate it,
piece by piece,
bit by bit.
there would be no pure explanation,
that someone so vile, so burdened,
could possibly love you.
but someone showed you that idea,
you could never feel or know,
that her love was there, so easy to show.
she couldn’t possibly love me,
the you that could be silenced,
the you that couldn’t grow.
she stayed,
despite the burden,
despite the trouble,
so would she love you?
could she say it easily,
or would you say it and struggle?
@k3nn3dyxo @imjusthere2readbruv @kisskourt @poems-and-word @inmyheadimobsessed @inadvertently-writing @kaytpoems @abbiemhart @abenomeiiii @ihearttish @shurisvibranium
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Love's Replay.
A poem about my millionth crush on a straight guy.
Do you remember
when you told me;
“Some people aren’t good
for your mental health.”?
God, I should’ve listened to you.
I should’ve known how this would end.
I’ve lived this story a million times.
But, some way, some how,
I always end up
with my eyes
glued to a stupid boy,
watching his eyes
glued to a stupid Arsenal match,
wishing he talked about me
the way he talks about stupid footballers.
~Ekaj.A~
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What is Black
Is it the other side of the deck stacked
White with a perceived lack
Some artificial slack
And while I sing in the breeze and all accompany me who can foresee the sheen on the guilded seam
Yes that's a rhyme and it spans a brilliant time
Did they ask you to be kind
Who failed in the definition
Meaning exquisite
Lies explicit
Were we all wishing
We are a people streaming
Flawed and gleaming
Do you understand the true meaning
Destiny thieving
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WE WRITE
Our hands splay toward some
Hazy & far-flung happiness
& we cleave open for some fragile
Non-evil, no matter how brief:
To touch,
To meet,
To human
Again; a scatter of non-particular
Wonders to be revisited.
All these unutterable blessings we forfeited-
Hugs, hope, heart-
Finally beloved by all & belittled by none.
It will take a whole fleet
Of words to return.
* * *
Then comes the thrust of our throats:
There is no more revenge
We shall boast, no matter
How heavily bladed in our fingers.
Change is made of choices,
& choices are made of character.
Cling to whatever brings us to begin,
Even if it is formless as foam.
We keep hoping
For no reason at all.
For every reason we share.
It is loss, as well as logic,
When we cry:
May those laid to rest never leave us,
But lead us to rise.
We lived.
& that was more than we asked for.
We, too, must howl ourselves ablaze.
* * *
We write
Because you might listen.
We write because
We are lost
& lonely,
& you, like us,
Are looking
& learning.
Written by Amanda Gorman
Courtesy of; https://www.afropoets.net/amandagorman.html
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my new book will be out in a few weeks lol that's wild
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We are absolutely thrilled to announce that the release of our very first full length poetry book—the first in our
@iskrabooks Red Poetry Series—is right around the corner! With brilliant revolutionary poetry and photography by Georgia-based cultural worker, journalist, and organizer, D. Musa Springer (@HalfAtlanta)—Alive and Paranoid is available as both a low-cost, black and white, paperback edition and a full-color, resplendent hardcover.
“This book was written in the hamster wheel, in the sense that D. Musa Springer penned these poems not in leisure but in labor—in spite and because of the sleepless hustle Amerika demands. Such hustle—against the backdrop of a racist, capitalist society—was only survivable because of the poet’s own impulse for writing verse. [...] “Springer’s ‘poetry of purpose,’ is personal and incendiary, it gloats and it weeps, and, most importantly, it is not neatly-trimmed to fit within the borders of a sparkly billboard screen in Times Square. It is blunt and unconcerned with platitudes. Alive and Paranoid journeys through Atlanta, Cuba, dreamscapes of Palestine, and the sonic values of hip-hop, offering a kaleidoscopic look, even a sense of liberty, into Springer’s life in the hamster wheel.”
—Mohammed El-Kurd (@m7mdkurd) From the foreword to Alive and Paranoid
Twitter / IG
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You called...and we came
You called…and we came.
In ships bigger than anything we had seen,
dwarfing our islands and covering them
in the shadows of smoke and noise.
Crowded, excited voices filled the air,
traveling to the ‘motherland’
– over weeks, over oceans that threatened to engulf us.
Driven by a wish, a call to save, to rebuild
and support efforts to establish ‘health for all’
in the aftermath of war.
You called….and we came.
Women and men of position in our homelands;
nurses with a pride in the excellence of our care.
With experience of management, organisation
and a sense of duty.
We appeared.
Smiling and eager to work on the wards, communities and clinics
of this England.
You called….and we came.
Our big hearts, skilful hands and quick minds
encased in our skins – of a darker hue.
Which had shimmered and glowed
in our sunnier climes..
But now signified our difference
– our un-belonging.
Matrons became assistants
Nurses became like chambermaids.
All the while striving to fulfil our promise
– to succour, to serve, to care.
You called….and we came.
The blue of the sister’s uniform
– seemed as far away from us as the moon.
Unreachable by our dark hands in this cold land.
But we were made of sterner stuff.
The hot sun, which once beat down on our ancestors,
when they too left their lands,
Shone within us.
Forging our hearts and minds
with the resistance of Ebony.
You called….and we came.
Rising like the Phoenix,
from the heat of rejection.
We cared, we worked and we organised.
Until the quickness of our brains
and the excellence of our care
made it hard for you to contain us.
And slowly, so slowly,
the blue uniforms had dark and lighter bodies beneath them.
The professional care in our touch
was valued despite the strangeness of our speech
and the kinks in our hair.
You called….and we came.
A new millennium – new hopes spread across this land.
New populations, engaging and reflecting
the varied, diverse and vibrant nature of these shores.
Challenging and reflecting on leadership for health.
Moves to melt the ‘snow’ at the peaks of our profession.
Recognising the richness of our kaleidoscope nation.
Where compassion, courage and diversity are reflected
In our presence and our contribution:
Not only the hopes and dreams of our ancestors.
– Human values needed to truly lead change…and add value.
Remember… you called.
Remember… you called
YOU. Called.
Remember, it was us, who came.
- Professor Laura Serrant OBE
Today marks 75 years since the HMT Empire Windrush arrived in Britain on 22 June 1948. 800 passengers from the Caribbean arrived in the UK, having been encouraged to make the move to help shore up the workforce after World War II. The Windrush generation and their descendants faced incredible difficulties as they built their lives in the UK. Racism, poor living conditions, and a dismissal of their previous professions and skills were just some of the struggles they faced. And yet the contributions the Windrush generation made to the UK cannot be overstated. The NHS, for example, would not be the insitution it is without the contributions of Caribbean nurses and midwives (who btw are still underrespresented in leadership positions in the NHS today).
I could write an essay tbh but it’s late and I need sleep. I’ve added a few links here which gives way more info on the Windrush generation. And not sure if it’s changed now but when i was at school they never taught us ANY of this.
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