Showing posts from 2015

Last Words for the Year

No Perfect One
I’m no atheist,
deity or an undefined. I’m no angel or devil.

I’m no black, white, or other.
I’m no hetero, homo, or transgender.
I’m no Democrat or Republic.
I’m no civilian or refugee.
I’m no corporation or product.
I’m no price tag or brand name beast. I am human.

©Danielle C. Robinson

A Simple Love Poem

Come lover, Let’s watch the birds fly as the sky-blue fade rosy. Paint your skin over mines.
Come lover, Let’s tally up our time, And calculate the space in places where we make love.
Come lover, Let’s create a Moon and Sun. Let them glow out of our love.
Into the world, come lover, take my left hand.

©Danielle C. Robinson

On Cool Mornings

On Cool Mornings
I love cool mornings as such Where the breeze loosens
my soul and my Sunny
neighbor kisses melt me golden.

I love a cool mornings as such Where the news is new
And only the sky can
Carry a sheet of blues.

I love cool mornings as such
Where silence invites itself
And I can only hear your
Heartbeat warming up to mine.



When I wake up, I’m scared. Scared to death to face death. So scared to death that a stray bullet may crack my soul, disrupt another baby from learning, target my brother, and silent my sister.
Scared to draw a line that I may not be able to cross or fill in boldly. Scared to fall in love because it may drain all the love I learned to save for myself. Scared to hold another hand and pray because that same hand may reach for a blade to cripple where I stand. I’m scared every time I hear my stomach rumble. I may reach for my bread and water--- but my hands may become too tied up to break a piece or take a sip. Scared for tomorrow after what may happen to today because every day another innocent life is taken away......
DelegantOne Behind or in front of the curtains, am I safe? ---DCR

Desperate Times

Desperate Times Every season mirrors winter now.
More than a few hearts boil a fire
from the breaking news of the day.
And if you listen close,
each cry is the anthem
to the world's broken blues.
And if you look closer,
every headline is bold and black,
chilling with terror.
And if you stand too close,
You'll become cornered by war times war
and baptized by the blood from the streets---
even with the loving
requesting love in these
desperate times. DelegantOne

Lady Bangladesh

Lady Bangladesh
She wails sentimental prayers on sweet and sour mornings. Before running against the sun,
her face is broken bronze.
In between the banks of rice,
underneath her orange and red sari,
rivers run down her back as she gather grains.
Back home,
she has no curry stew to overlap what she gained
and no taka for fish.
But the water in her eyes conveys joy.



Please, let them babies taste some of that fruit.
Let them nurse from the sweetness of their ancestors’ roots.
Let them not thirst, grow hungry or beg from the hands of filth.

Please, let them babies sip from your cup.
Let them cling to their own before time corrupts.
Let them reminisce what we used to and still taste like.

let the seeds see the seeds grow.
Let them not jam themselves into strange fruit.
Let them ripen in their rich dark skin.

let them not grow sour or bitter from within.
Let them not toil before rotting under the sun.
Let them grow raw and bare---
because all that black matters beyond the layer.


Plead to Fathers

Plead to Fathers
We need you to not just lie down with mothers, then leave the babies wet with
no milk, no cents, and no sense of future.
We need to see you respecting---
not dispelling the structure of woman.
We need to see you with brothers,
building each other into independent
and intellectual gentlemen.

Fathers, Daughters need you;
not just down the aisles on wedding days,
but by her side when she needs a hand in fear
or a layout of tools for success or mechanical repairs;
a face in time of desolation
and demonstration of self-reliant and self-control.
A voice of stern intellection on trust and discipline,
and illustrations on what a boy is and what a man is not.

Sons need you; 
not just in the times for picking and choosing pick-up
lines for the girl next door ,
but to express and exhibit the importance
of legacies and how they matter.
He needs you to challenge his inner man,
teach him how to treat a woman, invest for future,
rise above failure and how to resolve
conflict involv…

Downtown Blues

Downtown Blues

At the corner of Wilmington St. and E. Hargett St,
Trump man revived John Coltrane, Duke Ellington,
Miles Davis, and Charlie Parker.
My ears caught a fever,
My lips painted themselves in the land of brass
as I found my way to Table 3
with fresh tea as my guest
and new, blue words
for someone else to sing.


Nine @ Nine

Nine at Nine
Not nine seconds ago. It was nine lives ago.
Precious like the spirit they were praising
Short like the bullets that shuddered their breaths.
In between hymns and scriptures,
history laid itself inside of itself.
Showing  us and telling us all---
hate is vigorous in someone’s limbs.......



Hear me out over the lyrics

of heartbreak, love, religious verses,
Free prose, street poetry, crying-jolly blues, ad-libs
bygones and shenanigans.
Listen to my rhythms as they repeat.
Play me loud and clear
as I disperse tingles in your ear
and sketch the outline of your spine
while on a journey from ear to mind.
Soak me in your soul
until I evaporate from your pores.
Turn me up high.
Let my rhythms kiss the sky.
Balance my treble and hand over the bass
As I jaywalk strings,
To and fro keys,
and waft through horns.

Please, hear me out---
over the rift and raft
of rush hour traffic,
lovers in the mist of making love,
birds tweeting,
outburst and profanity on the streets,
city’s aches and pains,
loose change escaping skinny jeans,
breaking news and vehicles radioed to rescue
tapping feet, clapping hands, and snapping fingers
wet and unfed babies,
hustlers and busters,
please hear me out
over the world……..


Take Me to the Water

Take my hand.
Lend it to the good ole
Reverend or Bishop.
Let me smell the morning's dew
while the sun yawns and glare at me
as I wade in the water.Before the holy oil tattoo my forehead,
let the chrous whisper a lift to my spirit.
And before the currents creep-up deep on my flesh, let the angels crown my soul with peace.Stretch me like the son,
bear a witness,
hear my vows,
and plunge my innocent fabrics
into the water as it meanders.
In the name of the
In-the-name-of -the-trinity.D'ElegantOne

Blue Faces

Blue Faces
Eyes can’t keep count
as they blink at every shade of Africa
scattered on the streets of America.
Under the sky of midnight, 
they lose power in their starry eyes
from years of nightmares
troubled by drenched dreams.........


Words Buried Alive

Day 30 Prompt: Take the phrase” Bury the (blank)”, replace the blank with a word or phrase.

Bury the N Word
Here, take every letter. The –er, the -ga, and the root word too. Toss a black rose, add subsoil--- Leave me Queen and my brother King.
Yep, That Black Dress
In the back, on the 50th hanger, to the right, all black with a V-neck, asymmetrical crossing, no sleeves and it can touch the knees. I buried the dress that I buried our love in. You wouldn’t have liked it either. It was plain. Boring. Like our love. Bury the Chains
Unname me. Give me back my language. Hand over my kin. Free my sore, blackened neckline, wrist and ankles. Phone Motherland and tell her to receive me. Hurry, bury the chains without the scent of my flesh!
Bury the Past
Pick your spot, not too far. Let it make no sound or be heavy. Handle with care. Dig and dig.

What Every Nose Don't Know

Day 29
Prompt:Write a nobody knows poem.

Only God Knows
When the sky gone crack, When the clouds gone drown into the sea, When earth gone shake or stop running around, and the stars gone live on the ground.
When time will cheat its own hands, When a day will never meet a year, When the flowers gone frown, and the ground will screech then meltdown.
When the sun remain at rest, When the moon gone escape a phase, When the wind gone lift us high, and the birds gone stop flying by.
When all oceans will set aflame, When the land will be covered in tears, When the trees gone abandon their roots, and when love and war will no longer dispute.
Only God knows that day.

Breathing in those lines Breathing in those rhymes In between thosesheets In between those minds Up in volumes Up in chapters
Behind that screen Behind that mainstream Over those beats Over those city’s signs posted in them streets Written in all black Written on all white
Right? Write.

Anon. Love
For eight hours, behind my eyelids, sleeping in love---it …

Words of Matter

Day 28
Prompt: Write a matter and/or anti-matter poem
Matter Poem
As a Matter of
Blacks this. Blacks that Blacks from here. Blacks from there
Blacks. Blacks. Blacks.
Blacks can’t. Some blacks can. Blacks don’t. Some blacks do.
Blacks. Blacks. Blacks.
Blacks always. Some blacks never. Blacks are. Some blacks are not.
Blacks. Blacks. Blacks.
As a matter of fact, stats believe black lives do matter.

No Matter What
Your love melted my heart of stone--- convincing it to expel in the atmosphere And no matter what, I am free.
What’s Wrong?
What’s the matter World? Why did you let hate unfurl? Was love not a route to choose? And why are you fading into a world of broken blues? Pardon me; I can’t feel your turns. I did offer you love in return. But you ain’t change. Cause every day, I see the same thing. Naw, you ain’t change a bit. Cause when I sit, And see the news my kinder heart is whipped and abused. And why are your people so sour? When this could be the last and final hour? Huh? Can you hear me world? Or are you too busy wit…

Eyes Rolling Back

Day 27
Prompt: Write a looking back poem.
Black Glancing
Since 1865, we the people have been losing breath, cheating death, sleeping on sleep, breaking bones, bleeding in and out, moaning hymns, soaking in faith for liberty and justice for all.
Today’s Glory
I wish you would move along with the years of your life. Let those years of anguish and deception rest in peace. You know, you ain’t no spring chicken each season that comes around. Stop looking at what you could have done and what you should have did. It’s time to tell time by the inch of your wisdom collected thus far. And you know every eye that will dress your skin gon’ judge you anyway. And I know you’re hurting for God’s words, touch, light, and face to appear. And only we know--- flipping back to Psalms 27 will save you again.
20 Years Ago Not as tight-lipped, Slightly confused or fragile, but the world is still broken.
Soleil Come from behind those bulky trees, and shattered clouds--- burn a fire inside of me that no man can mute. Come touch ever…