Welcome to Day 28 of the April Write 2013: A new era begins
Today is our fourth and final – Free Verse Sunday. Our journey thus far has been an awe inspiring ride and there is still more to come in the next few days.
Remember that if you have not be able to write or read all the days don’t stress, the page will be here for you to continue to add to the challenges or to go back and read the contributions which already grace this page.
As you are aware on Free Verse Sundays there is not a topic or specific challenge set, as it is a day for you to ‘just do you’. The only thing we ask is that no erotica is posted today and it is added to its space and time on Freaky Friday, of which we have had 3 this year.
So with all that said, it’s over to you to grace the page with your words and thoughts for today.
Stay Focused, Stay Strong and Much Love to you all ♥ Marina
The April Write 
Zita Holbourne (c) April 2013
My Black Is Beauty Full
She shouted; My black is beautiful!
MY. BLACK. IS. BEAUTY. FULL!
Attacks on it are institutional
Designed to make her feel inferior
But as well as beautiful she has a tough exterior
Her black has been denigrated
She’s been discriminated
Against because of the colour of her skin
Sometimes even by her own kin
Treated as though the smooth sheen
Makes her an inferior human being
At home they called her the ugly one
Never considering the damage done
To her confidence and self esteem
At school they didn’t seem
To recognise her beauty
Never a princess always a tree
In the school productions she longed to play
A part that put her beauty on display
But indoctrinated with the belief
That she was worthless she embraced her grief
Silently assuming she had no right
And kept her beauty out of sight
Covering up with clothing
Secretly loathing
Her appearance and being
She stopped believing
In herself and her ability
Regarded her skin colour as a disability
When doors closed and opportunity didn’t knock
She decided to lock
Herself away cut off from others
No friends no lovers
Her family worried and now feeling guilty
Far too late realised they’d acted disgracefully
Ashamed they purchased tickets for a flight
Reluctantly she travelled in the night
Where at least she could remain hidden
Under the night flight lights dim
She awoke apprehensive of what this new place might bring
As she peered down below over the plane’s wing
She saw golden sands that glistened against
The turquoise sea on the descent
So inviting she longed to be there
Then sadly remembered she would have to bare
Her ugliness to do so
And knew she’d never go
What happened when she arrived
She could never have believed
In the airport at first she didn’t realise
That the beautiful people before her eyes
Had the same dark skin she had
She was just glad
To be surrounded by such uplifting
People smiling and insisting
That she have a wonderful stay
Complementing her on her way
One woman told her mother she was blessed to have a daughter
With so beautiful a complexion
At first she didn’t make the connection
That the daughter
was in fact her
Young men eyed her with admiration
Older men looked on with resignation
Wishing they were 20 or 30 years younger
Young women looked enviously at her
And slowly she began to recognise
The attention bestowed on her and realise
That she must in fact not be so ugly after all
Especially when the young men lined up to call
At her grandmother’s house where they came to stay
And every day she heard her say
The words she first said when they got there
‘I used to have the beauty you have my dear’
‘Now I am old and your are young’
‘Your black is beautiful dear one’
And now she could believe it was true
Each day here she grew
Amongst her people blessed by the sun’s glow
This place fitted her like a glove
And it was here she found her first love
And as they sat on golden sands and watched the sun set
She became overwhelmed and leapt
To her feet with joy in a daze
She danced in and out of the waves
In her new bikini flung her arms up in the air
She felt no sorrow or fear
And shouted loudly ‘My black is beautiful’
‘MY. BLACK. IS. BEAUTY. FULL!’
Zita Holbourne, Poet-Artist-Activist
Donna Parkinson (c) April 2013
URBAN ENSLAVEMENT
Inner-city insurgents on a covert operation,
Tooled up for Society’s condemnation,
The streets germination,
Morphs into the demobilization,
Of surrounding turf,
For what it’s worth,
Our neighbourhoods are undergoing a re-birth,
We are witnessing postcode purging,
And what is actually emerging,
Is a grotesque disfigurement of civilisation,
Apparently it’s called urbanisation,
Growth, change, advancement,
The enhancement,
Of cultures,
Yet look around at the circling vultures,
Waiting to swoop in on whatever might remain,
They suck from the very vein,
Pick at the brain,
Without refrain,
Can you feel the pain?
Wake up! This is the ghetto not the great African plain,
And we aint at the top of the food chain,
This mission is destined to fail,
This is urban cleansing on a global scale,
The powers that be,
Hold us in captivity,
Within our concrete jungle confines,
The hoods bloodlines,
Flow freely through the heart of the street,
And with every non-consequential heartbeat,
The establishment are riveted at their window seat,
Engrossed in the way we follow their definitive plan,
Yes this is ….The white collar con man,
Using us as a means to extinguish what they ultimately despise,
Making us the catalytic agent in our own demise,
Pseudo submissives at the hands of perceptive puppeteers,
Unassuming volunteers,
Disenfranchised youth moulded into weapons of mass destruction,
Completely wiping out our communities production,
Genocide on the inner city pavement,
Urban enslavement,
Not progression,
A kind of ‘person’ linear regression,
0x + 1 = 2….. It’s an impossible equation,
As the invasion,
Continues on its course of action,
Sating the satisfaction,
Of the slave master,
And this whole thing spreads faster,
Than nuclear fall out,
Cos it’s all about,
The survival of the fittest; supremacy and power,
And this is the day, this is the hour,
That we need to recognise,
This warzone is right in front of our eyes,
And we live it day by day,
This was always meant to be the way,
And we constantly play,
Into ‘the hand’ that’s feeds us,
The institution that bleeds us,
Is winning the battle, holding ground,
While we stupidly think that we have found,
Our strength, Our place,
And they sit back and laugh in our face,
As we do their bidding,
Who the fuck do they think they are kidding?
Not me,
For I see,
This for what it is….. Urban Enslavement,
Step up my youths and disengage from the pavement.
Halim Flowers (c) April 2013
Free Verse
I just wanted to share something
Something pure inside of me
SOmething not seeking to inflate my ego
Or accumulate anything considered “Wealth”
Nor anything that could be conceived as tangible
I just wanted to give her something that would
Probably uplift her
Not because she was downtrodden
Just to show her for a moment that the sky was never a limit
That there was no limit to how much i was sure
That she should be appreciated
I just wanted to give something
To her from me that was Selfless
Something that was applaudible
But I didn’t want to do it for the crowd
I just wanted to give her something that was personal
Simple
But yet with the hopes of being perceived as Great
By her alone
Because I am sure she is a great woman
And I just wanted her to be sure that I was grateful
Because being thankful was something greater than love
Because I could not find the words to express how much I admire her
So
This was my attempt to give her something…….
Halim A. Flowers (c) 2013
For Angela Edgar