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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1306677
Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #1306677
This poem is about the challenges of a minority poet in the 60's
Black man poet? Please, be for real, .
no one really cares about the things you feel.
Yes, these discouraging words I was once constantly told,
but they only fueled the fire that burned deep within my soul.

Full of vigor and youthful ambitions,
I was determined that I would succeed,
for I had faith in my countries promises that said,
every man has the right to achieve.

But here now in this present time,
with regret I find I must to say,
whatever happen to those promises made,
way back on that glorious day?

Could it be that those words that were spoken,
that I was taught from the age of three,
were in fact ordained for a people,
just not for a people like me.

Now I say this before God, and please here my heart,
for my country my life I would give.
And asking nothing in return from my country,
"but the right to justly live"

So when you look upon my merits,
and if there's substance in the things you find,
hold back not opportunity,
and close the door on a productive mind.

Seek that which is found beneath the surface,
for justification lies not in an outer shade.
But upon the things that dwell within a mans heart,
on that alone, let judgment be made.

Therefore, let us learn to partake of goodness,
whenever this virtue is found,
be it in any man,
be he black, white, red ,yellow, or brown.

For the benefits are like that of cool water,
when thirst is devouring thy soul.
Now surely you would drink of it,
"regardless the color, the container may hold".

And if we apply this new understanding,
then maybe our children wont grow up deceived,
for the real enemy has never been that of color,
but all the wicked things, that we have been taught to believe.

Now if the resulting consequences of this writing,
is a mind changed, or life enhanced,
then thank not me but my upbringing,
not to be "bound by my circumstance".

Black man poet? Yes I live,
proud only in knowing, that I to, have something to give.
And though there's great joy in receiving, it will never ever compare,
to the joy of being blessed, "with something to share".




                                                            by  E. Manual H., JR.
   

© Copyright 2007 E. Manual H., Jr. (abcde at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1306677