Category: Poems

Poem: I Am Invisible

I Am Invisible
~by Haley Thurman

I am invisible

I hate to be invisible

I am invisible

Do you think I am invisible?

I think you think I am invisible

You can’t see me

You can’t see Haley

I am a girl

I am biracial and half white

Is it the white in me you don’t like?

Is it my black that’s invisible to you?

I have brown hair and brown eyes

My lips are red

My shirt is yellow

But you don’t see me because I am invisible

Or are you blind?

This was originally on Oprah in November, 1999. Below is the video and interesting segment of being biracial in America (includes singer, Mariah Carey). Maybe we can get an update on Oprah’s #wherearetheynow.  I find it sad that there are still such negative comments written today…your thoughts?

Enjoy!

Your friends at iCelebrateDiversity.com

 

Book/Poem – The Crayon Box That Talked

I believe that teaching children to love themselves (and others) is one of the greatest gifts that you can give! I also believe that children should learn to celebrate differences in the home and that their teachers and friends can, and should, be a wonderful source of influence and affirmation. My heart is that my web site and this blog can be tools that ALL people can use to help decrease the gap of hatred and misunderstanding and increase the bond of unity and understanding!

Below is a poem from the book The Crayon Box that Talked that I have read to hundreds of preschoolers. It’s a great book with a simple message, “Together we are better”!

The Crayon Box That Talked

by Shane DeRolf

While walking in a toy store,
The day before today,
I overheard a crayon box,
With many things to say…

‘I don’t like Red!’ said Yellow.
And Green said, ‘Nor do I!
And no one here likes Orange,
But no one knows just why.’

‘We are a box of crayons
That doesn’t get along.’
Said Blue to all the others,
‘Something here is wrong!’

Well, I bought that box of crayons,
And took it home with me,
And laid out all the colors,
So the crayons could all see.

They watched me as I colored
With Red and Blue and Green,
And Black and White and Orange,
And every color in between…

They watched as Green became the grass,
And Blue became the sky,
The Yellow sun was shining bright,
On White clouds drifting by,

Colors changing as they touched,
Becoming something new.
They watched me as I colored.
They watched till I was through.

And when I’d finally finished,
I began to walk away.
And as I did, the crayon box
Had something more to say…

‘I do like Red!’ said Yellow.
And Green said, ‘So do I!

And, Blue, you were terrific,
So high up in the sky!’

‘We are a box of crayons,
Each one of us unique.
But when we get together,
The picture is complete.’

*TM & copyrighted, 1996, 1997, 2001 Shane DeRolf.


Poem: In My Life (biracial)

In my life as a:
“Mixed-Race”,
“Half-Caste”,
“Biracial”,
“Heterogeneous”,
“Half-breed”,
“Multi-cultural”,
“Creole”,
“Mulatto”,
“Mongrel”,
“Hybrid”,
“Inter-racial”,
“None Of The Above”
“Other”

I’ve been told:
“You’re Too-Light”,
“You’re Not Light Enough”,
“You’re Too-Dark”,
“You’re Not Dark Enough”,
“You’re Too-White”,
“You’re Not White Enough”,
“You’re Too-Black”,
“You’re Not Black Enough”,
“You Have An Identity Crisis”,
“You’re Not One Of Us, You’re One Of Them”,
“You’re Not One Of Them, You’re One Of Us”,
“You Don’t Know Who You Are”,
“You’re Not White, You Must Be Black”,
“You’re Not Black, You Must Be White”,
“You’re Not Really White”,
“You’re Not Really Black”,
“You’re Both Black And White”,
“You’re Neither Black Or White”
“You’re Nothing Really”.

I’ve been:
Accepted By Black And By White,
Rejected By White And By Black,
Integrated With Black And With White,
Alienated From White And From Black,
Praised And Complemented By Black And By White,
Insulted And Offended By White And By Black,
Loved By Black And By White,
Hated By White And By Black,
Paid Attention By Black And By White,
Ignored By White And By Black,
Pleased By Black And By White,
Angered By White And BY Black,
Enlightened By Black And By White,
Frustrated By White And By Black,
Fascinated By Black And By White,
Bored By White And By Black,
Helped By White And By Black,
Hindered By Black And By White,

I’ve:
Lived With White And With Black,
Lived Apart From Black And From White,
Agreed With White And With Black,
Argued With Black And With White,
Laughed With White And With Black,
Cryed With Black And With White,
Wanted To Assimilate With White And With Black,
Wanted To Segregate From Black And From White,
Never Seen Anyone Who’s The Color Of Coal,
Never Seen Anyone Who’s The Color Of Snow.

~sabu

Poem: Diversity

Diversity

I believe,
that diversity is a part of the natural order of things
-as natural as the trillion shapes and shades of the flowers of spring
or the leaves of autumn.

I believe,
that diversity brings new solutions to an ever-changing environment,
and that sameness is not only uninteresting but limiting.

To deny diversity is to deny life.
With all its richness and manifold opportunities.
Thus I affirm my citizenship in a world of diversity,
and with it the responsibility to…

Be tolerant. Live and let live.
Understand that those who cause no harm should not be feared,
ridiculed, or harmed – even if they are different.

Look for the best in others.

Be just in my dealings,
with poor and rich, weak and strong,
And whenever possible to defend the young, the old,
the frail, the defenseless.

Be kind,
remembering how fragile the human spirit is.

Live the examined life,
subjecting my motives and actions to the scrutiny of mind and heart
so to rise above prejudice and hatred.

Care.

– Gene Griessman

Poem: Are you greater than the sun

“Are you greater than the sun that shines on everyone? Black, Brown, Yellow, Red and White the sun does not discriminate”. Sara Ting ©

(i saw this addition to Sara Ting’s poem that I thought was also good) 

“Does the rain not wet your hair the same? Muslim, Christian, Hindu, Buddhist or Jew, the skies have washed your ancestors without prejudice.

Can you stop the winds better than any other? Russian, Saudi, Spaniard, Vietnamese, and Nigerian, The winds show no bias towards your borders.

Will you extend your time in this physical form? Tall, Short, Bulky, Skinny, Blind and Deaf, the hands of time wait for no human.” BT Slader ©

Poem: “We are talking about” (biracial)

This will be my last poem from Arnold Adoff’s book “All the Colors of the Race” that I featured a couple of days ago. There are many more great poems in the book–buy it or check it out from your local library!

We are talking about

by Arnold Adoff

We are talking about

                           the ones who pick        their friends

                           because of how    black      they act

                                                                             or

                           because of how    white     they can

                                                                             be.

Sometimes blackness seems too black for me,

                    and whiteness is too     sickly pale;

                    and I wish every

                                        one were golden from

                                                                    the

                                                                   sun.

                         Golden from the

                                                   inside

                                                out.

Poem: “On my applications” (biracial)

Here’s another great poem from Arnold Adoff that was in the book All the Colors of the Race that I featured yesterday.

On my applications

by Arnold Adoff

On my applications   I can

                               put:

this girl:

          a black,

             white,

Christian,

Jewish,

            young

            woman:

                 student,

                 musician,

singer,

dancer,

runner    in the middle distance races,

                 is willing to help you

                 if you take her as she

                                             is.

Poem: “The lady said” (biracial)

Here is a tiny treasure that I found in the library this summer. A book of poems, All the Colors of the Race, written by Arnold Adoff. Based on his own interracial family, Adoff writes from the perspective of his biracial (black/white) daughter, which I find very interesting. At first I was a bit thrown off because I generally prefer poetry to rhyme, however, his style is considered “free verse” poetry. The more I read (and re-read) them, the more I fall in love with them! I hope you do too.

The lady said

by Arnold Adoff

The lady said:       what are you going to

                                                 be

                                when you grow

                                all the way up?

And I said:      a woman.

And she said.     No. I mean what are

                                          you

                                          now?

And I said:   a girl.

And she said:   No. I mean what do you call

                                        yourself?

And I said:   Honey. Baby. Sweet

                                       potato

                                       pie

                                       face me.

If she finds it hard,

                     I find it easy

     to make it hard for her.

Poem: “The Cold Within” by James Patrick Kinney

The Cold Within

by James Patrick Kinney

Six humans trapped by happenstance
in black and bitter cold
Each possessed a stick of wood,
Or so the story’s told.

Their dying fire in need of logs,
the first woman held hers back
For on the faces around the fire
She noticed one was black.

The next man looking ‘cross the way
Saw one not of his church
And couldn’t bring himself to give
The fire his stick of birch.

The third one sat in tattered clothes
He gave his coat a hitch,
Why should his log be put to use
To warm the idle rich?

The rich man just sat back and thought
Of the wealth he had in store,
And how to keep what he had earned
From the lazy, shiftless poor.

The black man’s face bespoke revenge
As the fire passed from his sight,
For all he saw in his stick of wood
Was a chance to spite the white.

And the last man of this forlorn group
Did naught except for gain,
Giving only to those who gave
Was how he played the game.

The logs held tight in death’s stilled hands
Was proof of human sin,
They didn’t die from the cold without,
They died from the cold within.

Poem: “No Difference” by Shel Silverstein

I spent many hours as a child loving Shel Silverstein’s book of poems, Where the Sidewalk Ends.Today I ran across an old favorite. Enjoy!

No Difference

by Shel Silverstein

Small as a peanut

Big as a giant,

We’re all the same size

When we turn off the light.

Red, black or orange,

Yellow or white

We all look the same

When we turn off the light.

So maybe the way

To make everything right

Is for God to just reach out

And turn off the light!

Love it? BUY IT!

Poem: “Human Family” by Maya Angelou

(there’s nothing like hearing Maya Angelou share her poetry…such a gift!)

Human Family

by Maya Angelou

I note the obvious differences
in the human family.
Some of us are serious,
some thrive on comedy.

Some declare their lives are lived
as true profundity,
and others claim they really live
the real reality.

The variety of our skin tones
can confuse, bemuse, delight,
brown and pink and beige and purple,
tan and blue and white.

I’ve sailed upon the seven seas
and stopped in every land.
I’ve seen the wonders of the world,
not yet one common man.

I know ten thousand women
called Jane and Mary Jane,
I’ve not seen any two
who really were the same.

Mirror twins are different
although their features jibe,
and lovers think quite different thoughts
while lying side by side.

We love and lose in China,
we weep on England’s moors,
and laugh and moan in Guinea,
and thrive on Spanish shores.

We seek success in Finland,
are born and die in Maine.
In minor ways we differ,
in major we’re the same.

I note the obvious differences
between each sort and type,
but we are more alike, my friends
than we are unalike.

We are more alike, my friends,
than we are unalike.

We are more alike, my friends,
than we are unalike.

Poem: “Lisa” by Beverly McLoughland (biracial)

I found the following treasure at a school bookfair eight years ago. It was buried in a book titled “Through Our Eyes: Poems and Pictures About Growing Up“. I probably picked the book because it had “atypical” (not the usual blonde-haired and blue-eyed) girls on the cover. To see this, I knew it was intentional. I was happy to see children of different races and ethnicities represented on the pages. The book is filled with sweet poems, but we have especially enjoyed this one: 

Lisa

by Beverly McLoughland

Lisa’s father is

Black

And her mother is

White,

And her skin is a

Cinnamon

Delight,

Her hair is

Dark

And her eyes are

Light,

And Lisa is

Lisa,

Day and

Night.

And Lisa is

Lisa,

Night and

Day,

Though there are

People

Who sometimes

Say–

Well, is Lisa

That,

Or is Lisa

This? —

Lisa is

Everything

She is.

Lisa is

Lisa,

Day and

Night,

And her skin is a

Cinnamon

Delight,

And Lisa is

Sun

And Lisa is

Star,

And Lisa is

All

The dreams that

Are.