Top 100 Poems About: RACISM

In this page, poems on / about “racism” are listed.
  • 1.
    Still I Rise

    You may write me down in history
    With your bitter, twisted lies,
    You may tread me in the very dirt
    But still, like dust, I'll rise. read more »

    Maya Angelou
  • 2.

    If you can keep your head when all about you
    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
    If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
    But make allowance for their doubting too: read more »

    Rudyard Kipling
  • 3.

    My old man's a white old man
    And my old mother's black.
    If ever I cursed my white old man
    I take my curses back. read more »

    Langston Hughes
  • 4.
    I, Too

    I, too, sing America.

    I am the darker brother.
    They send me to eat in the kitchen read more »

    Langston Hughes
  • 5.
    We Wear The Mask

    We wear the mask that grins and lies,
    It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,--
    This debt we pay to human guile;
    With torn and bleeding hearts we smile, read more »

    Paul Laurence Dunbar
  • 6.

    Oh when I think of my long-suffering race,
    For weary centuries despised, oppressed,
    Enslaved and lynched, denied a human place
    In the great life line of the Christian West; read more »

    Claude McKay
  • 7.
    Children's Rhymes

    By what sends
    the white kids
    I ain't sent:
    I know I can't read more »

    Langston Hughes
  • 8.
    Let America Be America Again

    Let America be America again.
    Let it be the dream it used to be.
    Let it be the pioneer on the plain
    Seeking a home where he himself is free. read more »

    Langston Hughes
  • 9.

    You declare you see me dimly
    through a glass which will not shine,
    though I stand before you boldly, read more »

    Maya Angelou
  • 10.

    Once riding in old Baltimore,
    Heart-filled, head-filled with glee,
    I saw a Baltimorean
    Keep looking straight at me. read more »

    Countee Cullen
  • 11.
    The Little Black Boy

    My mother bore me in the southern wild,
    And I am black, but oh my soul is white!
    White as an angel is the English child, read more »

    William Blake
  • 12.
    The Lynching

    His Spirit in smoke ascended to high heaven.
    His father, by the cruelest way of pain,
    Had bidden him to his bosom once again;
    The awful sin remained still unforgiven. read more »

    Claude McKay
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