Jeong Jung

Jeong Jung Poems

I am a child,
a little black boy,
Facing the world of inequality,
If only I had skin like snow
...

I’ll tell you of a story,
Of something quite so strange,
Which started with a soup can,
From the Asda® organic range,
...

Take out a penny and clasp it in your hand,
Scan the jars of humbugs and strawberry lace strands,
Lick your lips in satisfaction and yearn for sweet taste
Different sweets, some hard and some as smooth as paste,
...

4.

Jade is the zest of a lime
Jade is the stem of a tree
Jade is the smell of the lawn
Jade is the salt in the sea
...

French and spanish seem the same to me
Latin, German I do not seem to see
Verbs and participles are something quite very queer
and Dutch in particular, not a word to I hear.
...

A puzzle can get lost sometimes
And its job as you can tell
Is to complete a picture of some kind
Perhaps of a fairy tale
...

If I were to live this day,
as if it were my last,
I'd not think of what was to come,
But look back upon the past,
...

If you did spot a star tonight,
I ask what would you do?
Would you sit and wish upon it.
and hope it would come true?
...

There is no 'must' in opinions
There is no right nor wrong
Whether white is black
Or black is blue
...

Tick tock listen to the clock
that counts the seconds which go by.
With each second which passes
a life is born,
...

Your hair is radiant in the light
Each curl and ringlet in perfection
Your smile, a comforting glow,
Moist as dew on grass is your complexion
...

I see you smile and I’m sorry,
I can’t get myself to say,
And it seems to drag and hurt even more
With every passing day,
...

How to describe
ways to explain
Phrases in order to entertain
books and stories
...

The Best Poem Of Jeong Jung

Little Black Child

I am a child,
a little black boy,
Facing the world of inequality,
If only I had skin like snow
I wouldn't feel great pity,
My skin is dark as ebony wood
my hair as tangled as yarn
I stand alone in this world
I am the one who experiences harm
My appearance earns me all the worst
kicks, punches and thumps
and when I go home my mother asks;
'Why the bruises, cuts and bumps? '
But I don't speak, 'coz there's nothing to be done
I, Little black boy, have no fun,
I stand alone in this world
Where justice needs to be unfurled.

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