Short Poems for Black History Month

Color is an interesting idea. It makes us different, and it gives us separation and identity. However, we human beings have been seen as only one color since the beginning of humankind: White. Yet there is so much more than "white people." Yes, there are people who are black. They are black, and they are just like white people. And that's something to be proud of, my friends. Now, you may not think so, speaking of such white folk like the American presidents. I would disagree and tell you to open your eyes. There are so many great black citizens in our fair country of the United States, ladies and gentleman. And the best way I can tell you how is through a series of poems I recently wrote about a few great black men and women who stood on their legs and wanted what was right:

Rosa Parks

Resting along the leather seat,
Gentle ride going 'round,
A group of people looking as if they're praying to God,
To survive the day without having an argument.

A sudden stop, however,
A halt to the speedily proceedings,
Just another pick-up from the sides,
Getting ready to take a side.

I'm comfortable, still,
A movement is better than to move for one other,
Warnings start spouting,
Speakings that exclaim of "What an atrocity"!

I stay, though,
Waiting to get off at my proper route,
Instead of getting off at my new destination.
I will not move from this place.

They lift me off,
Sending me to the next world,
A world of true criminals with real punishments,
Not one of them for sitting in a seat.

I await my own comeuppance,
Known already by such outrages exclaimed.
The younger generations know this too,
As they shall carry it further.

Martin Luther King Jr.

My Dream has come true,
The young ones' eyes have finally opened.
They may finally walk along with my future brothers and sisters,
As my brother and sisters shall walk with them.

How little it is of the man who claims that he is the one and only,
When others stand right before him, praising of such glories of the world.
Even more so does we who see the exact same as that little man.
Yet, we do not criticize back towards this exact mirror.

Let us forever glance at the greatness we have finally been blessed with,
This true freedom to walk amongst all others.
The greatness to sit in a comfortable seat,
The greatness to enter a solid stone building.

The greatness for our own to have homes wherever possible,
The greatness for us to speak and not to be spoken to.
It is this great dream addressed and fulfilled,
That I am proud of the American People.

Muhammed Ali

Dodge left, dodge right,
Keep your aim not too low or not too high.
The fight is not done yet, not so soon,
It isn't the night yet, only noon.

Your left arm resembles the balance,
The pitch and hit from the throw.
A proceeding smack brings your foe to finally turn the other cheek,
Revealing things never thought possible.

Your right arm is the protector,
The keeper of life and defense of the human soul.
The shield brings your foe back for another,
Finding out such frustrations of his mind.

Keep the mind clear,
The hands soft, and the body clean.
This is your moment to rule for a while,
The moment to live.