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I am Black...Everyday

happy 𝔅LACK history month! ✊🏾

In honor of an exciting month I complied a few songs and poems to get it kicked off the right way. When I think of Black, I think of jazz, beauty, strength, kings & queens, power, soul, good food, laughter and the list goes on. I LOVE THE SKIN IM IN. I celebrate me and my beautiful brown people not just in February but everyday. And it should be that way. We as a people have been going through so much and counted to grow with all the hate around us. I like to think of black people just like a lotus flower. Just like the flower it grows in mud and just like Black people we grow into something beautiful in bad circumstances. SO, lets get into it!


Harlem (Dream Deferred) by Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry uplike a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore—And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sagslike a heavy load.
Or does it explode? 

Caged Bird by Maya Angelou 

A free bird leaps on the back of 
the wind and floats downstream   
till the current ends and dips his 
wing in the orange sun rays and 
dares to claim the sky. 

But a bird that stalks down his narrow
cage can seldom see through his bars 
of rage his wings are clipped and   
his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing. 

The caged bird sings   
with a fearful trill   
of things unknown   
but longed for still   
and his tune is heard   
on the distant hill   
for the caged bird   
sings of freedom. 

The free bird thinks of another 
breeze and the trade winds soft 
through the sighing trees and the
fat worms waiting on a dawn bright 
lawn and he names the sky his own 

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams   
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream   
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied   
so he opens his throat to sing. 

The caged bird sings   
with a fearful trill   
of things unknown   
but longed for still   
and his tune is heard   
on the distant hill   
for the caged bird   
sings of freedom.

Nina's Blue by Cornelius Eady 

Your body, hard vowels
In a soft dress, is still. 

What you can't know
is that after you died
All the black poets
In New York City
Took a deep breath,
And breathed you out;
Dark corners of small clubs,
The silence you left twitching 

On the floors of the gigs
You turned your back on,
The balled-up fists of notes
Flung, angry from a keyboard. 

You won't be able to hear us
Try to etch what rose
Off your eyes, from your throat. 

Out you bleed, not as sweet, or sweaty,
Through our dark fingertips.
We drum rest
We drum thank you
We drum stay.

The Slave Auction by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper 

The sale began—young girls were there,
   Defenseless in their wretchedness,
Whose stifled sobs of deep despair
   Revealed their anguish and distress. 

And mothers stood, with streaming eyes,
   And saw their dearest children sold;
Unheeded rose their bitter cries,
   While tyrants bartered them for gold. 

And woman, with her love and truth—
   For these in sable forms may dwell—
Gazed on the husband of her youth,
   With anguish none may paint or tell. 

And men, whose sole crime was their hue,
   The impress of their Maker’s hand,
And frail and shrinking children too,
   Were gathered in that mournful band. 

Ye who have laid your loved to rest,
   And wept above their lifeless clay,
Know not the anguish of that breast,
   Whose loved are rudely torn away. 

Ye may not know how desolate
   Are bosoms rudely forced to part,
And how a dull and heavy weight
   Will press the life-drops from the heart.


Hope you enjoyed this post! I know I had fun writing it. :) Let me know below whats your favorite thing about BHM 💕

-God has already worked it out for you, relax-

1 comment

  1. Nice post! Such a cute idea to put together for Black History Month. I am a new follower. :)


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