APRIL IS NATIONAL POETRY MONTH!

Published anonymously in 1827, this poem appeared in the Freedom Journal.

I present the poem...

BLACK BEAUTY

"Black, I am oh! daughters fair,"

But my beauty is most rare;

Black, indeed, appears my skin,

Beauteous, comely, all within:

Black when affliction press'd

Beauteous, when in Christ I rest;

Black, by sins defiling flood,

Beauteous, wash'd in Jesus' blood"

Black, I am in my own eyes,

Beauteous, in my Lord's I rise;

Black I am to men tis' true;

Beauteous, in the angels view:

Black, if Jesus frowns awhile,

Beauteous, when I see him smile;

Black, while in the tomb I lie,

Beauteous, when I mount the sky!

  APRIL IS NATIONAL POETRY MONTH!

Written by MRS. C. D. WILSON

and

published on September 30, 1859.

I present to you the poem...

SIN--IT'S OWN AVENGER

Who dares sin against his soul,

Must lost of purity;

This fearful loss is only told

In the solemn deaths of eternity.

A little wrong to our neighbor done,

May seem a trifling sin;

But to ourselves that wrong becomes

A withering, blighting thing.

It is a fixed, eternal law,

That God himself has graved,

That he who binds his fellow man,

Becomes the meanest slave.

Ye masters! who with loudly pride,

Dare trample on your brother's rights,

Be wise--let reason be your guide,

Behold this law in wisdom's light.

When led by passions fierce and strong,

To injure him by wrongs untold,

O ! think how terrible the wrong

You thus inflict upon your soul.

Time may heal his cruel wound,

His agony at length shall cease;

But oh! where should balm be found

to give the hardened soul relief?

Think of the fearful price you pay,

By dealing in your brother's blood;

Who walks not in kind mercy's way,

Can ne'er enjoy the smile of God.

Beware, or you must surely fall,

By sin's dark maelstrom driven;

Repent, restore, heed wisdom's call,

Forsake your sins and be forgiven.

The good, the true of every land,

Have plead for universal rights,

O! join this throng, this holy band,

For they alone know pure delight.

  APRIL IS NATIONAL POETRY MONTH!

A Poet, a Lecturer, Teacher, Abolitionist, an Author, Writer, and Suffragist.

One of the first African-American to publish a short-story in ameriKKKa.

The first female instructor at Union Seminary.

The Co-founder of The National Association of Colored Women's Clubs (NACWC).

An only child of free parents. Frances Ellen Watkins was born in Baltimore, Maryland in 1825. Frances went to live with her uncle William Watkins, after her mother’s death at an early age. There she attended the school her uncle founded and taught at, “The Watkins Academy for Negro Youth.” William Watkins was a minister and an abolitionist. His political activism shaped his niece’s social, religious, and political views. Influencing her writing. At 21 years of age. Frances E. Watkins wrote her first volume of poetry entitled “Forest Leaves.” Frances E. Watkins Harper poetry has appeared in The Frederick Douglass’ Paper, The Liberator, and many other abolitionist publications.

Without further ado, I present to you....

ETHIOPIA

Yes, Ethiopia yet shall stretch

Her bleeding hands to God;

Her cry of agony shall reach

The burning throne of God!

The tyrant’s yoke from off her neck

His fetters from her soul,

The mighty hand of God shall break,

And spurn the base control!

Redeemed from dust, and freed from chains,

Her sons shall lift their eyes;

From cloud capped hills and radiant plains,

Shall shouts of triumphs rise;

Upon her dark despairing brow

Shall play a smile of peace;

For God shall bend unto her woe,

And bid her sorrows cease.

'Neath sheltering vines, and stately palms,

Shall laughing children play,

And aged sires with joyous psalms

Shall gladden every day!

Secure by night, blest by day,

Shall pass the happy hours;

No human tigers hunt for prey

Within her peaceful bowers!

The Ethiopia! stretch oh! stretch,

Thy bleeding hands abroad;

Thy cry of agony shall reach

And find redress with God.

          GO SETAPHIRE TODAY!

Purchase Your Copy of BLACK CROSS Today!

Paperback Now Available @BarnesAndNoble.Com

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/black-cross-nicole-hammett/1140532427?ean=9781668593448

BLACK CROSS

Stage Play by Nicole Hammett

Cover Illustrated by Nicole Hammett

A tie-in with the SETAPHIRE SERIES!

BLACK CROSS

The New Negro Movement. Back to Africa Movement. Harlem 1921. Home of the Black family. Black Cross tells the story of the becoming of Alice-Paul Black. Wife of Rufus Black, mother of Willie and Junior Black, daughter of Mamie Johnson.

Born a dark-skinned Negro woman. 

Disallowed the right to dream.

Black Cross tells the story of Alice-Paul Black’s willingness to no longer accept who her husband allows her to be. Who her mother tells her she needs to be. Who the world says that she is. It took a long time for Alice-Paul Black to find her voice. She’s going to tell you who she ain’t.

          GO SETAPHIRE TODAY! 

Paperback Now Available @BarnesAndNoble.Com

Purchase Your Copy of SetaPhire: Mandela

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/setaphire-nicole-hammett/1140532426?ean=9781668587218

Commemorating and Celebrating the life of Marcus Mosiah Garvey!

SetaPhire: Mandela

What is the purpose of your life? 

What are you supposed to Setaphire to?

Mandela’s journey begins

More than Setaphire’s best friend. Born Francesca Xnonymous in Kingston, Jamaica. On Francesca's 11th birthday, she’s given the truth as a gift. Her name is not Francesca Xnonymous, it’s Mandela Xnonymous. Mandela will leave her bittersweet paradise behind and move to a foreign land to attend a prestigious elite academy.

Modeled on a Black History curriculum and Marcus Garvey's philosophies. The Academy provides support and guidance as the instructors wade the chosen through the tempestuous of self-doubt to the realization that they are Black Beauty and Black Excellence!

                  GO SETAPHIRE TODAY! 

PURCHASE YOUR COPY TODAY!

Download SetaPhire!

Ebook Available @BarnesAndNoble.Com

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/setaphire-nicole-hammett/1133290392

Commemorating and Celebrating the life of Marcus Mosiah Garvey!

SETAPHIRE

The First Book In The SetaPhire Series!

Quirky, Historical, Educational, and Entertaining!

Setaphire is a coming-of-age story of an awkward African American adolescent who’s gifted an unusual present on her 11th birthday. The Truth! What is this truth? Her name is not Sapphire. It’s Setaphire! What is Setaphire supposed to SET A FIRE to?

The chosen journey begins on their 11th birthday, whisked away to an unfamiliar town and an unknown academy modeled on a Black History curriculum and Marcus Garvey’s philosophies. The academy provides support and guidance. As the instructors wade the chosen through the tempestuous of self-doubt and to the realization that they are Black Beauty and Black Excellence.

  APRIL IS NATIONAL POETRY MONTH!

Published in 1855, I present "The Dark-Skinned Boy," written by GYPSEY.

THE DARK-SKINNED BOY

’Twas dark-skinned boy, yet so beautiful,

With his tender, large, soft eye,

And the bright blood shone in his dusky cheek,

And his forehead was broad and high;

And his red lip dimpled with baby glee,

As he danced and crowed on his mother’s knee.

The sunlight skimmered through swinging vines,

On a girlish figure bowed ;

For the mother sat with weary soul,

Whilst her young boy laughed aloud,

And her mournful eyes on his face were bent,

Whilst his ringing voice to her heart core went.

The sunbeams lit on his jetty hair,

And wove him golden crown,

An he called to her, "look at the yellow gleams,

How the vine leaves shook them down."

But she started, and turned from his beaming face,

And brought him away to a shadowy place.

How he lifted in wonder his pleading eyes,

But he saw that her look was sad ;

Then his bright lip curled with kindred grief,

And the child was no longer glad.

Such a baby he, and still closer crept,

And nestled his head on her heart and slept.

The long, black lash, like silken fringe,

On his warm cheek drooped so soft ;

And the bright tears twinkled amid his locks,

For the mother shed them oft.

Oh! those bitter tears could they wash the stain

From that dusky brow t’were not all in vain.

He was free, and so bright, and so beautiful,

Then why did that mother weep ?

And why did she sit with such lifeless lips,

Looking down on his blessed sleep ?

And say, do ye ask for that mother’s joy ?

Oh, God! he is naught but a "darkey boy !"

  APRIL IS NATIONAL POETRY MONTH!

Published in 1854, in Frederick Douglass’ Paper.

I present a poem written by Aretus Adams.

WHO IS OUR NEIGHBOR?-A QUESTION ASKED AND ANSWERED

A neighbor is the one who thou

Hast power to aid and bless,

The aching head and throbbing brow,

Whose wrongs we ought redress.

Surely, it is the panting poor,

Whose eyes by want are dim,

Whom hunger sends door from door--

Go thou and succor them.

He's near you, 'tis the very man,

Whose years are at their brim,

Bent down with sorrows, care and pain--

Go thou and comfort him.

Many there be whose hearts bereft

Of every earthly friend,

Widows and Orphans helpless left--

Go thou and shelter them.

Unto thy neighbor's a toiling slave,

Fettered in mind and limb,

Whose hopes are all beyond the grave--

Go thou and ransom him.

To be a neighbor, is in fact

Just what the lord designed--

To be in sympathy with Christ,

A lover of mankind.

  APRIL IS NATIONAL POETRY MONTH!

 A Black abolitionist, a Barber, a Political Activist, and a Poet.

James M. Whitfield was born in 1822 in New Hampshire. By 16 years of age, he was publishing papers for the Negro rights education. His poems have appeared in The North Star, Fredrick Douglass' Paper, and The Liberator.

Without further ado, published in 1853, I present...

AMERICA.

America, it is to thee,

Thou boasted land of liberty,-

It is to thee I raise my song,

Thou land of blood, and crime, and wrong.

It is to thee, my native land,

From whence has issued many a banned

To tear the black man from his soil,

And force him here to delve and toil,

Chained on your blood-bemoistened sod,

Cringing beneath a tyrant's rod,

Stripped of those rights which Nature's God

Bequeathed to all human race,

Bound to a petty tyrant's nod,

Because he wears a paler face.

 APRIL IS NATIONAL POETRY MONTH!

Published in Frederick Douglass' Paper on June 10, 1853, I present a poem written by E. P. Roger.

"Loosed from your moorings you are free;

But fast in chains am I;

You move before the gentle gale,

Beneath the scourge I lie.

"You fly around the mighty globe,

You swift-winged angels be;

I am confined in iron bands,

Oh, God, that I were free!

"Oh! that I were on one of you,

'Neath your protecting wing--

Upon your gallant decks no more

To feel oppression's sting.

"But ah! alas! 'twixt me and you

The turbid waves roll high;

Go on! go on! I'd gladly go

Could I but swim or fly.

"The ships are gone-they hid afar;

I'm left in hottest hell;

Why was I born to be a brute

With earthly friends to dwell?

"Why am I thus a wretched slave?

Oh God deliver me?

Is there a God? thy power vouchsafe,

And let me now be free.

"Oppression I will not endure--

I rather choose to die;

Come life, or death, I must be free,

God helping me I'll try."

When thus the mighty spirited yearned,

The chains could not confine;

Thou didst resolve to strike the blow,

And liberty was thine.

 APRIL IS NATIONAL POETRY MONTH!

Today, the spotlight shines on a poem published on January 20, 1852, written by Frank Addison Mowig Philom.

MY PEN

My pen, my pen, my joy and my pride,

My idol I worship each day ;

A gem which adversity giveth to me,

Shall speak of the shackles, the bond, and the free,

And sound thy loud anthems o'er woodland and lea,

To echo forever and aye.

My pen, my pen, thou hope of my youth,

What visions I saw in thy name ;

My castles have fallen, alas! I am left,

From friends and from kindred, and almost bereft,

I feel the cold pinions around me are pressed

That shall stifle my infant-like frame.

My pen, my pen, I wished not for thee

To leave me a gainer of gold,

No--motives more pure, I trust now impart

A halo of love still nearer my heart,

That shall shine with more brilliance when lucre and art

Are with the past ages enrolled.

My pen, my pen, thy noblest of arms,

Thou "Grand Worthy Scribe" of the world,

'Tis not for the name, but thy valueless worth,

That maketh thee my dearest of treasure on earth,

And call for loud praises around each peasant's hearth,

Where beauty's so clearly unfurled.

My pen, my pen, there is joy in thy name.

My heart shall be ever thineown ;

While a Washington's banner around shall wave,

Oh! stretch forth thy hand like an angel to save

From deep tears of anguish a FREE COUNTRY'S SLAVE,

That the stain be forever unknown.

My pen, my pen, when I leave this dark sphere,

And pass to another more blest,

'Tis now my fond wish that there I may be

Engaged in recording some virtues of thee,

Who hast in thy might caused the SLAVE to stand free,

And at last reach a haven of rest.

 APRIL IS NATIONAL POETRY MONTH!

Today, the spotlight shines on a poem published in 1852, written by A. R.

THE TRUE HERO

It is his aim

To travel on, in duty's way,

Though multitudes defame--

His motives constantly gainsay.

He labors on,

Undaunted by the world's dark frown;

Prepared to suffer wrong,

It can not weigh his spirit down.

Ever awake

The pangs of sorrow to allay,

No enemy can shake,

Or lead him from his course astray.

He firmly stands

Where poisonous arrows round him fly;

Where virtue aid demands,

He fights to conquer or to die.

Unmoved by fear,

Though envy may diffuse her bane,

Or malice toil severe,

To heap reproach upon his name.

He finds within,

A true and never-fading guide;

There is on earth or him

No monitor so safe beside.

And when life's wanes,

Its tender cords are nearly riven,

He finds what well sustains,

And aids him to his flight to Heaven

         GO SETAPHIRE TODAY!

Purchase Your Copy of BLACK CROSS Today!

Paperback Now Available @BarnesAndNoble.Com

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/black-cross-nicole-hammett/1140532427?ean=9781668593448

BLACK CROSS

Stage Play by Nicole Hammett

Cover Illustrated by Nicole Hammett

A tie-in with the SETAPHIRE SERIES!

BLACK CROSS

The New Negro Movement. Back to Africa Movement. Harlem 1921. Home of the Black family. Black Cross tells the story of the becoming of Alice-Paul Black. Wife of Rufus Black, mother of Willie and Junior Black, daughter of Mamie Johnson.

Born a dark-skinned Negro woman. 

Disallowed the right to dream.

Black Cross tells the story of Alice-Paul Black’s willingness to no longer accept who her husband allows her to be. Who her mother tells her she needs to be. Who the world says that she is. It took a long time for Alice-Paul Black to find her voice. She’s going to tell you who she ain’t.

         GO SETAPHIRE TODAY! 

Paperback Now Available @BarnesAndNoble.Com

Purchase Your Copy of SetaPhire: Mandela

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/setaphire-nicole-hammett/1140532426?ean=9781668587218

Commemorating and Celebrating the life of Marcus Mosiah Garvey!

SetaPhire: Mandela

What is the purpose of your life? 

What are you supposed to Setaphire to?

Mandela’s journey begins

More than Setaphire’s best friend. Born Francesca Xnonymous in Kingston, Jamaica. On Francesca's 11th birthday, she’s given the truth as a gift. Her name is not Francesca Xnonymous, it’s Mandela Xnonymous. Mandela will leave her bittersweet paradise behind and move to a foreign land to attend a prestigious elite academy.

Modeled on a Black History curriculum and Marcus Garvey's philosophies. The Academy provides support and guidance as the instructors wade the chosen through the tempestuous of self-doubt to the realization that they are Black Beauty and Black Excellence!

                   GO SETAPHIRE TODAY!

PURCHASE YOUR COPY TODAY!

Download SetaPhire!

Ebook Available @BarnesAndNoble.Com

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/setaphire-nicole-hammett/1133290392

Commemorating and Celebrating the life of Marcus Mosiah Garvey!

SETAPHIRE

The First Book In The SetaPhire Series!

Quirky, Historical, Educational, and Entertaining!

Setaphire is a coming-of-age story of an awkward African American adolescent who’s gifted an unusual present on her 11th birthday. The Truth! What is this truth? Her name is not Sapphire. It’s Setaphire! What is Setaphire supposed to SET A FIRE to?

The chosen journey begins on their 11th birthday, whisked away to an unfamiliar town and an unknown academy modeled on a Black History curriculum and Marcus Garvey’s philosophies. The academy provides support and guidance. As the instructors wade the chosen through the tempestuous of self-doubt and to the realization that they are Black Beauty and Black Excellence.

 APRIL IS NATIONAL POETRY MONTH!

Written by Wymond and published on March 1851.

I present the poem…

THE SLAVE'S SOLILOQUY

How sweet is freedom to the free! Then what

Would not the wretched, horror-stricken slave

Endure, that might purchase freedom too?

Oh, listen to his heart-heaved signs and groans,

As he bewails his wretched lot, and bear

His sad soliloquy!

O, let me have

My liberty! Though I might wander up

And down the earth, a by-word on the tongues

Of men, and friendless live and die, yet let

Me have my LIBERTY.  Though I were sure

That the wild wilderness would be my home,

Where none should be more kind and merciful

Than howling wild beasts, thirsting for my blood,

And naught but fruitless forest trees should shield

Me from the storms of night, yet let me have

My LIBERTY! O, let me wither 'neath

The torrid, summer sun, or wander lost

Upon a springless, shrubless, sandy plain;

Or let me shiver, freeze and die amid

The winds and drifting storms that beat upon

Spitzbergen's frozen brow, if I may have

My LIBERTY! Or let me say farewell,

Forever, to the land that gave me birth,

And let me choose old ocean for my home;

And not a word I'll murmur, when the night

Is black with tempest, and the howling blasts

And hissing waves shall leave the rushing storm,

"While mountains billows rise-ten billows heaped

In one, then rush down, an avalanche

Of brine." And the rattling thunders rule

The tempest with their deaf'ning roar, and let

The lightning ploug the reeling masts. All these

I'll bear, if I may have my LIBERTY.

The friendless world, the wilderness, the heat

Of blazing suns, the frosts of icy North,

Have, all combined, no terrors like the woes

Of Slavery.

O, then creation's lord,

High-gifted tyrant, boasting of thy love

Of liberty, yet robbing Freedom of

Her rights, by chaining down thy equal and

Thy brother, to unending slavery,

Unheeding all his woes, as though thy heart

Were adamant, throw off thy lethargy.

If thou art yet a man, let sympathy--

Let manhood's common ties--let fear of woe,

Thy well-earned due, and which eternity

Shall pay--let justice, shame, and conscience plead

With thee, and urge thee grant the slave that gift,

With which, he loves to live--without which, longs

To die--his rightful Human Liberty.

 APRIL IS NATIONAL POETRY MONTH!

Today the spotlight shines on a poem written by H. M. and published in Frederick Douglass’ paper on October 2, 1851.

I present the poem...

THE AUCTION BLOCK

The sable mother, child in hand is now exposed to view;

Around her unpitying hand, to nature all untrue,

Her form's surveyed, while ribald jest meets her offended ear,

Rude laugh, course wit is echoed around, and this she has to bear.

The auctioneer attest her worth, and asks one hundred more,

"Without the brat, I'd buy the wench," exclaims a Southern boor.

His powerless arms her husband lifts, who grits his snowy teeth;

But quickly awed by stern command, he tries to choke his grief.

"Well! be it so," the owner cries,--"come bid her off alone!"

She hears him not--but ah! The father breathes a hollow groan.

Her piteous eyes are cast around, and suppliant she stands;

But "meek-eyed Pity" dwells not there, she lives in other lands.

Poor doom'd one, hark! the hammer falls, the wretch asserts his rights,

He tears her from her Boy, to whom she clings with all her might.

"My child!" she screams--"in mercy be my own, my darling boy!

Quick! Buy him quick! You cannot sure my life blood thus destroy";

"And look! There stands my husband dear, a manly heart has he,

And willing hands--oh! buy him to, in mercy unto me!"

Alas! as well might victim plead with tiger on the plain,

As soon as old Ocean yield to view the drowned live again.

She seeks his eye--and reads her fate, what now on earth is left

to cheer the widowed childless one, of all but life bereft?

And what is life? She ask not it, she's torn from all away,

She prays for death-an early death-that sable one doth pray.

 APRIL IS NATIONAL POETRY MONTH!

Published In 1850

Written by J. C. HOADLY

I present...

JESUS WEPT

"A man should never weep."

It may be manliness to boast

Thy cheek was never wet

With tears of sorrow or remorse,

Of pity or regret;

The wayward pride may vaunt thine eye

Unwashed with gushing brine,--

Oh! this may well be manliness,--

For tears are all divine!

As o'er Sahara's burning waste

No verdant tale appears,

Save where the barren sands are wet

With Nature's genial tears;

See in the arid heart of man

A green oasis rise,

Alone where grief or pity opes

The fountain of the eyes!

Around thee want and woe may cower,

And wounded hearts may grieve,

And sin and sorrow--warp and woof--

Their Nessus' tissue weave;

Yet boast thee that no pitying tear

Adown thy cheek hath crept;

But when thou call'st it manliness,

Remember--Jesus wept!