#newpoet poems on Hello Poetry

Kenechukwu Mar 2020

Side profile portraits at an open mic
delayed dimming lights
and sketch imprecise.
She draws me,
so I write her.
Lines written or lines drawn
we do not deter.

And so,

Right by her
my heart concurs
that to write by her
is to love in verse.

My love is an artist, I am a poet.

#love #artist #poet #sentimental #creative #newpoet #blackpoet

Kenechukwu Mar 2020

Dylan's roof

Dylan’s roof covers your house supposedly,
But you can’t go through the front door,
you don’t even have a key.

You see, Dylan’s roof covers your head
ever so reluctantly
But Dylan won’t kick you out,
you were brought here to work for free.

Dylan doesn’t like you
or anyone with your complexion
But Dylan won’t admit it,
he’d rather ‘serve and protect’ his brethren.
By serve and protect I mean swerve and reject.
Any responsibility for a bullet in your chest.

You see, Dylan’s roof doesn’t just cover 52 states
It covers millions of your reflection
that share melanated traits.

The windows under Dylan’s roof give you a glimpse of your potential.
Freedom and happiness.
You trace the future with a stencil.

After some time,
Dylan’s roof will start to dissipate.
The rains of your liberation
will begin to precipitate.

The seeds that were planted
by the ones gone before us,
will start to germinate
in the fields that once tore us

On the 17th of June 2015, Dylan Roof walked into ‘Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church’ in downtown Charleston, South Carolina and killed nine innocent black people. He was arrested so very gently.

#blm #blackpoet #rip #blacklivesmatter #allies #newpoet #change

Kenechukwu Mar 2020

Soil.

Unearthing a few grains of soil could create sinkholes
Or create more solidarity
The ones that grow and stand tall
Are ripped out and harvested for sustenance

We live in it
grow in it
sustain it.

Our bonds are like packed soil,
porous but poreless
in appearance
a state of perpetual disturbance

With every handful forcefully taken
endless grains fall in on themselves.
To save face
save race.

#community #blackpoet #nature #newpoet #creativity #soil

Kenechukwu Mar 2020

Mother's Nature.

The wind doesn’t blow through their hair like it does the others.

It meanders through the curls of our melanated mothers.

It carries heavy accents infused with both love and suffering

over badly connected telephone lines

and the language barriers of anglocentric confines.

It navigates their thick 4c forests

as do the rigid combs they brandish to govern expanding crowns

that sit above scalps which resemble

the most polished oak.

#blackpoet #mothernature #beauty #love #newpoet

Kenechukwu Mar 2020

Some thoughts on a train

I rest my head on the window and watch
overhead electrical wires dance.
My overpacked bag nestles between my ankles
while the window's vibrations massage my scalp
into a tranquil numbness.

For a moment, my thoughts exist in an uncommon serenity
in which they follow only the oscillating dance of the wires above

Merge and then separate
Merge…separate

I find calm
seeing the world
as a singular continuous blur
passing me by.
It makes more sense
than any destination.

And the view from this train window defines life
beautifully, in a manner ever so concise.

“A constant journey between destinations with imprecise vision in between”

#somethoughtsonatrain #daydreaming #train #journey #blackpoet #newpoet #travel

Kenechukwu Mar 2020

Inside the Outside

Occasional retreats into my mind
became regular visits.
Then I became a permanent resident
and so, nowhere else felt like home. Nowhere else could.
Always just inside.
Inside the outside.
Or rather, what the outside had made of me.

Inside pain
Inside scars
behind dark eyes
that had long since lost their stars.

Hoarding pessimism and harbouring cynicism
mistaking resentment for activism,
unrefracted anger through a hollow prism,
locking arms with isms and schisms.

The world knocked all hours
I would look through the peephole, but never open the door
The glass on it was stained bloodshed
A panorama of the world overwhelmingly red
but blue, in 1803 on a Dunbar riverbed.

Once, I opened the door
the world crawled into my pores.
pain and profanity stretching in my skin
wearing me, tearing me.
eating away at an empath, of course.
I was told that my mind and skin needed apathy to reinforce
I am to stop the world from putting me on all fours.
My nature does not allow for me to be so coarse.
So for now,
I close my doors.

#blackwriter #mentalhealth #insidetheoutside #newpoet

Roger Mar 2020

In this life, some do fall...

As a young man
I bought a bottle of aged bourbon
leaving it as a reminder
that celebration was near,
but it became my biggest failure
and my expectations flushed
down like brown bloodied bile.

I washed away nights of sin with gin
and begged mercy between breaths
but even then I had known I'd chosen less
as I dabbed my hands with lemon soap
I wrote a goodbye note 'Cheers
to the bottles I never broke open--'

#alcohol #drinking #sad #poems #newpoet #new #frontpage

noor Dec 2019

my suit

i am living in a suit
i have been for quite some time
the real me is underneath
but i cannot break through
this has become apart of me
that i cannot get rid of
i cannot retire from this suit
and this is because
of food

#food #fat #sad #ugly #newpoet #love

noor Nov 2019

the flower that broke me

a flower has bloomed.
you cherish it. you water it, give it so much sunshine.
you give it all of your attention.

but as time passes this flower has begun to change color.
its losing its beautiful bright color and is becoming dry.

could it possibly be dying?
no you won't accept it.
it will not die, as it brings you so much happiness.
you will not let this flower go.

but despite all of your efforts, one by one, each petal falls.
until finally, there is nothing at all.

you cry.
you mourn.

how could this have happened?
you watered it and gave it all the sunshine it needed.
why did it not stay?

it knew how happy it made you but still
it perished
but one day you witness another flower bloom
one that was exactly like the last

but could it die again?
will it make you so happy for it to one day just die?
you don't trust it anymore, as it broke your trust last time.

it left you.
it hurt you.

how could something so beautiful just wither away?

this is why i don't love.
because one day it'll die.

just like my flower.

#newpoet #flowers #love #roses #empty #broken

Michael McD Oct 2019

Dewdrop

Before present, I use to feel like morning dew;

Calm and Central, Controlled and Stable.
Yet, no amount of calm could stop the great fall.
And fell it did; yes, slipping downwards.

Full hands becoming empty, numbers start decreasing, sleep lessening.
Adhesion could not save the dew, it kept slipping.

Now at the edge; oh, that amassed abyss reflecting.

Only fingertips hold on now; only adhesion holds on now.

#new #newpoet #newpoem #sad #depression #faith #release #metaphors #emotional #expression