For Coloured Girls

 

For coloured girls who have considered suicide when the rainbow is enough. When you believe your pallet has failed to prove to you, that you’re precious enough. When that mirror image you see reflects a pale black beauty of a faded queen, ashamed by your majestic outer layer’s, that Mahoney, golden rich skin.

 

You see for far too long you’ve cried a river of unspoken tears, forced to self medicate your dissatisfaction, just to numb away the pain of your, inner fears. Yes your blood it does flow under a darker shade of skin, but the pigmentation of your ancestral roots still inhabits within a strong bodied sista skin.

 

See, the Mother Land to your womb has now been broken, tainted by the televised misconceptions that being light skinned is the only form of beauty in the law of society’s eyes.

 

How frequently my eyes cry, for my coloured sista’s who know not of the infinite beauty that lies deep inside. Don’t your see that your summer sun kiss skin is the envy of those within. It shines from inside out, beams with confidence and can carries its self throughout any crowd.

 

Your, curvaious physique,

Your, fulminous lips

Your, profuse kinks

To your, cameral skin

 

There’s no other breed of woman, I’d rather be in.

Phenomenal you are, and you alone can make up a rainbow. So let the light of a thousand suns blossom thought your days, let the Melanie in your skin define a woman of substance and endurance.

You see, with happiness and pride within yourself, for you are a beautiful black woman and nothing else.

                                                  By Caroline Gbolade Poetic Soul

A Beautiful Mind

Let me paint a picture of a frame of mind, where waterfalls flow and crystal droplets of inspiration resides. In a beautiful mind, with passionate thoughts, an ever growing society can lose their trail of thoughts.

But our knowledge, it runs free, powerfully exceeding throughout the depths of humanity. See our jigsaw pieces have now been formed to connect, a learning life of experience, an imprint that we’ll never forget.

See the adolescent child within us seeks the desires of mental growth, as a, child’s mind circulates on an incomparable magnitude of greatness, casting rainbows over blue skies, wherever they go.

Extraordinary, imaginative, powerfully challenge to create relationships between the none real, and the real. Without fear they take heed of their thoughts, transforming them into little joys of success.

So, picture-est an intellect of purity, striving towards perfection, as their sponge like inhabitant reaches its stimulated peak.

Wisdom, Vision, the whitish mass of soft matter instinct, also best known as our brains. Its sassiness can make the strongest of beings go weak at the knees, for there’s no doubt that an intelligential mind, is indeed, an attractive mind of beauty.

See, although our minds are like parachutes, they only function well once open.

Although we can be blinded and corrupted by the things that we see, it’s down to us to balance up the good and the bad properties.

Although knowledge comes free, we must continue to feed our minds consistently.

For there’s no limits to which our minds can reach, as with nurture, endless streams will be able to flow free.

By Caroline Gbolade Poetic Soul 2012

Black History Month 2012: My BHM Video

Hi Poetic bloggers,

 

I know I’ve been away for a while but I’m now back and in full affect. Been busy soul searching in regards to my writing and gathering new ideas.

 

For Black History Month, I have recorded and shot a video which will be aired on Sky 218 regularly.

I'm very excited about it, and I hope you enjoy.

 
'To be blessed, to be Soul-stress'

Joshua Bennett

Many of you must have heard of this out standing poet Joshua Bennett. He has graced his poetical, lyrical flow to the likes of Barack Obama and many more.

His poem, 10 Things I want To Say To Black Woman, is deep and inspirational.

This footage is of Joshua Bennet performing what he dose best at the White House.

Poetry Video for thought

This Poetry Video is simply GREAT!! It's the type of poetry that gets you thinking in depths about life and its intense surroundance of Religion.

This is a must watch.....just click play and enjoy!!

I love this poem, I think she said's it all!! Lool

          I aint your N.I.G.G.E.R!!

                                                  

We are the people formally known as niggers. We are our fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters.  We are the definition of this exploited word which binds us together, through a conspiracy, to weaken our minds. Yes! We are our children’s futures and life style but, yet we appear to be lost in an offence, now endured by our own hand and I’m asking you, to help me to understand.        

You see, I aint and never will be your nigger and I don’t plan to be one today, because my, roots are too strong for that, my, eyes have already cried over that, my, heart  has already bleed over that and kaleidoscopeof dreams are far, far, far too big for that.

Adding insult to injury we as black people we need to learn our history, modern day’s slaves we are but, were the ones who actually take it too far.

You see, we’ve been called nigger for so long, it’s now become our theme song. Second nature, meet and greet. Do you think this is the only way that we can get respect on the streets?

Shocking! Or so it my seems, that were holding on to a statement, and yet we wish to develop and move forward with our dreams. Well, it appears to me that were defeating the purpose of our ancestor’s quest, because every time I hear that line it burns a whole through my chest. Over sighted by the unsighted by the commercial affects, with rappers, comedians and the things they eject. Verbally oppressed and raped from our progress. Never Ignorant Getting Goals Accomplished is that of what Tupac suggests.

Take two steps forward, instead of ten steps back, positive thinking to feed our minds which will engage in a better day for you, and yes I. You see, we are the people formerly known as niggers, we may have had to worked a little bit harder, but at least we can say our efforts have not gone unheeded.

Lets terminate this cycle and not be a victim of our own circumtance. Let the greatness of our race materialize and be publicized for the good things we say instead of the bad. Let this poem ignite the fire in your belly, to the roar in you’re voice and lets not be institutionalized by our own prison walls or cell gates because ……

She aint no N.I.G.G.E.R

He aint no N.I.G.G.E.R 

We aint no N.I.G.G.E.R

I aint no N.I.G.G.E.R

Therefore we are the people formally known as niggers!!

  By Caroline (Poetic Soul) Gbolade ©Copyright

                                You

A chorus of words, will never amplify or define the type of man who stands right before my eyes.  A man so amazing, that even the force of gravity, couldn’t hold me down.

A brotha whose intent is so genuine and real, he makes the very world around me holt to a still. Like the cords to my heart he plays a melody so sweet, searing my soul in the juices of his physique.

You see, there aren’t enough adjectives or nouns to this describe the way he makes me weak inside. So I’ll sum it up, as best I can, and let you know, that ……

                  “You’re the, rhythm to my soul,              

The, poetry to my feet.  

The, music to my stride

The, chemistry when we meet.

And you and I combined together,

It feels like harmony, when we reach our peak.”

Orgasmic flutters overpower my limp curvaious body, as you’ve succeeded to satisfy my womanly desires, for you, I only wish to aspire. You see verse after verse you just keep getting better and better, spoiling me, with your beautiful resonance.

See, the love that we share is a reflection, a reflection of the blessings above, manifesting its light to which no one can touch. You’ve now taken custody of my heart, and I can see no reasoning, negotiating methods I have taken no heed in.  See I want you to be my first, my last, my ending and beginning. As I dedicate this declaration of affection, just to let you know, that ……

                “You’re the, rhythm to my soul,              

The, poetry to my feet.

The, music to my stride

The, chemistry when we meet.

And you and I combined together,

It feels like harmony, when we reach our peak.”

You’re my Nubian King, I’m your Nubian Queen. My, tall dark hansom black man who, walks like an Egyptian. My, every lasting gob, stopper. Your, flavors excites the balls of the buds on my tongue. My, dialect becomes a manner of confusion, a concern, to which makes my inner thighs inside pulsate and jive. I’m, fixated on your personal high, you, make the bad girl inside me escape and arise. Your, all the things a woman should want and need, I’m, so overwhelmed, you have me buckling at my knees………because….

           “You’re the, rhythm to my soul,              

The, poetry to my feet.

The, music to my stride

The, chemistry when we meet.

And you and I combined together,

It feels like harmony, when we reach our peak.”

By Poetic (Carloine Gbolade) Soul ©Copyright

Hello all, it’s been a while but trust me I have been working on some new poetry for yah. Which is near to being finished, you will not be disappointed. In the mine time check out me ‘Art and Culture’ page (above) on my toolbar and check out my paintings.

Thank you, (To Be Blessed, To Be Soul-Stress)

                        Happy Christmas!!!!!!!!

            My Black Is Beautiful

 

My black is beautiful, my black is bold, my black has strength and my black has soul.

My black stands tall for all to see, racial taunts no longer bother me. My ebony rich skin glows brighter that than stars at night, a million eyes watch me, as I rejoice out. You see, my nappy hair, my jerry curl perm, creates that statement that I’m proud about, people try their hardest to silence me, but I swiftly regain my strength of doubt.

You see, my black is universal, my black is unique, my black has that rhythm of symphony that has you up on your feet. Loved by many but hated by most, my black is that beauty that people envy the most.

My black whispers the words of greatness, it defines the unity of our struggle.

It shines from the inside out, speaks with confidence and carries itself throughout the crowd.

My black has seen the future; my black has conquered the past. My black has inspired generations upon generations, to become the Kings and queens that they are.

My black is the product of our ancestor’s quest; we are the definition of what once was. You see, as I put my pen to paper, I hope you feel me cause, we can never truly be anything other than what we can be,
                                              and that

                                                is GREAT!!

                             So to all my brotha’s and sista’s, imma say this LOUD
                                       and STRAIGHT

                                         her black is beautiful

                                        his black is beautiful

                                         your black is beautiful

                                 AND MYBLACK……….. IS BEAUTIFUL!!

Written by Caroline (aka Poetic Soul) Gbolade Copy Right Protected 2011

 

 United As One

Hear, The cries of my ancestor’s anguish. The taunts of words which have implanted its self Firmly within our core. The roots have sprouted but still our engine roars, Intensely.
For your voice.

Walk,

With pride

through obstacles and conflict. The tough ridges of uneven rocky roads will soon become paved. Let no being nore creature strip you of your dignity. As the trails of success will come in many forms.

For your strength

Take,

The courage of Martin Luther King, The wisdom of Malcolm X

The integrity of Rosa Parks

And believe the endurable.

For your self belief

Plant,

The seed of faith, Watch as its blossoms and fuses with the earth. For years the blackest of nights have shone without stars

But today the gateway to light will show you the way.

For your heart

Grow,

To perfection, demolish the poisons which threatens your growth.

Fly free amongst a flock of doves and capture the brightness of infinite stars.

For your body

Cradle,

The love of your children, let it carry you throughout your day.

Let them be the reason you reside and the reason you persevere

For your love

Embrace,

The power of your greatness

Sprinkle,

The elegance of your black beauty

Use,

Your mind as a glorious weapon, and hold on to dreams you wish accomplish.

You see, cadged birds are meant to sing a chorus words which echo around the world. Let your song be heard, let your poverty be our worlds affect.

And let the power of our lord continue to rain. 
 
Written By Caroline (aka Poetic Soul) Gbolade

Product of a Black Man

I am a product of a black man, and he is a product of me. I am a product of his love and sensual creativity. See, I have love for my black man, because his love for his black sister is like no other. He frights for what he believes in, speaks his mind and keeps it real. When challenged, his assertiveness can illuminate a room.

His enduring strength is what captivates me the most, it’s a blanket of protection, its warmth feeds my brain, pumps blood throughout my veins, circulates my soul and stimulates my frame. See, I love my black man.  He strives to better himself, to nourish his mind intellectually, as well as productively. See he’s a blessing from god, a descendant from our kings and queens, leader of our tribe, warrior of success. He fears no man/one, Head of the pack, his pride never lets him down, although he can carry the weight of the world, his black sista always around.

See, he may stumble over a few hurdles, lose his way in life, and be misguided to what’s in sight. But he preservers and keeps his eyes on the prize, striving towards success.

My worrier, my prince, my king, and my solider your abilities are limitless. Your hands can accomplish any task.

You see, I bathe in your confidence; your kisses make me weak. My body yarns for yours as yours does for mine. See, I’m mesmerized!! Mesmerized by your board powerful shoulders, your appealing structure and your smooth buttery toffee skin.

I love the black man within. I love the waves in your hair, to the kink in your stare. I love the strength in your back, to how you hold it down like that.

I love your define chest, to your hands which caress, me, so passionately, I’m forever yours and so more. I love the swag in style, to the hip in your hop, the dimples in your cheeks, to that smile that makes me weak. I love my black man!! Raised by strong black women, your roots are firmly planted within the soil; See your fearless soul spiritual shows the depths of a true brotha in the making.

YES! There will be many who will call you slave, but the power of your legacy will not go in vain. 

You see, you are my unit, my strength and my friend, and you WILL sit upon your thrown and wear your rightful crown

                                                                 because you are a product of me,

and I will forever and always be,

YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL, STRONG BLACK QUEEN.

     

  Written By Caroline (aka Poetic Soul) Gbolade 2011 copy right protected  

Lullaby

Sing me lullaby so I can sleep, to ease my pain and not make me weep. Take me far away to another world that is different, without the conflict of suffering and hatred of enemies.

Sing me a lullaby to make me forget. Forget about the ignorance of today and push all of the hurt away. Let there be no divide or subside, but let there be hope and faith in all of our lives, and that we will not kill one another and see our mothers cry.

Sing me a lullaby in perfect harmony, so I may have the vision of sweet tranquility in the sound that is given. Where blue birds fly ever so high, and the sun shines, and so do I.

Written By Caroline aka Poetic Soul Gbolade   (© Copy Right Protected)

MJ (Michael Jackson) King of Music

(August 29, 1958 - June, 25 2009)
For many of you whom my not have remembered, Michael Jackson died two years ago June 25, 2009. He was an amazing contributor to music, life and change. He inspired many, invented new moves, touched many hearts and brought to life a vibrant style which no one could ever match.

Often imitated by many, Michael Jackson you will never be duplicated, as there is only ONE king of POP (music)

                  Chomo!! 

So I Run

I love this def jam spoken word performer. He takes you on a journey through history with his poetry and delivers with great passion and strength. 

Shihan 

"Sick and Tired"

Strength Of A Woman

I'm a woman, and lord knows that’s hard. Just try walking in ours shoes of daily arrogances, to improper advances, hisses and seedy glances. 

Tame as I may seem it’s the inner strength that’s stored within  me, I, seek acknowledgment for my intellect, my soul, my domain my charisma and not my frame.  

See I walk with my head held high, my pride on my sleeve and dignity by my side. Your stereotypical views, they try to imprison me, but, I still break through. Like the suns rays I’m energised to voice my views create my mark, and enhance my spirituality of the one man I know who’ll never let me down. 

You see, I’m a women on a mission, 

and I know my self worth, 

and I refuse to feed your sexual thirst for one night of passion and false hopes of inefficient love. 

See, it may be a mans world in your eyes, but remember it wouldn’t be nothing, without a woman or a girl!

By Poetic Soul(stress) aka Caroline Gbolade 

Stay Blessed, Stay Soulstress

The Raven

Hello my poetic people, just thought I'd share this amazing piece. This has to be one of my favorite poets of the past, and I hope that you'll take time to read the delights of a true writers ability to open up your mind.

Edgar Allan Poe: The Raven

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!