Rate this poem:(5.00 / 2 votes)


On January fifteenth;
Mama shouted HALLELUJAH!
She also gritted her teeth...
in the birth pain, how do you do ya?
She brought Martin Luther King Here,
who hails Jesus to proclaim:
We people have nothing to fear,
racist violence is insane!
Lord God knows that I Am a man.
We Shall Overcome as the poor people,
with no business in Vietnam.
But, We Gather Together at the steeple.
Church is everywhere we go...
Cleaning up garbage and laundry.
In our hearts we really know
the white mans police dog boundary
is another tale and test
for our salvation and dignity.
When I Lay My Burdens Down to rest
Heavens Gate will open for all Eternity.
We must march and cross the line now:
Ignore those bully club bombs and bullets
to bust us.
We'll end racism; it's not allowed.
We demand our Civil Rights Truth Freedom
and Justice.

About this poem

The 15th of January is the only daymte mama parted her loins and almost died, like Jesus Christ on on Dec.25; MLK could become an international hero for civil, social justice rights and world peace if USA properly honored this (& only this date) as his birthday to elevate a connected annual celebration and tribute to the heroic bravery & faith of this pastor, father & leader of people.

Font size:
Collection  PDF     

Submitted by AUTVSMAJ on January 05, 2023

51 sec read

Quick analysis:

Closest metre Iambic tetrameter
Characters 999
Words 169
Stanzas 1
Stanza Lengths 26


FC teaches poetry at Stein Center NYC & performs it regularly, has four poetry books published and staged various original plays in verse. Produces WA/HA? on public Access TV. more…

All Frankcraven.com poems | Frankcraven.com Books

(2 fans)

Discuss this Frankcraven.com poem with the community:

1 Comment
  • Teril
    A moving tribute to one of the greatest men of our time. I love the way that you call to our minds the music of civil rights and solid religious beliefs.
    LikeReplyReport20 days ago


Find a translation for this poem in other languages:

Select another language:

  • - Select -
  • 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
  • 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
  • Español (Spanish)
  • Esperanto (Esperanto)
  • 日本語 (Japanese)
  • Português (Portuguese)
  • Deutsch (German)
  • العربية (Arabic)
  • Français (French)
  • Русский (Russian)
  • ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
  • 한국어 (Korean)
  • עברית (Hebrew)
  • Gaeilge (Irish)
  • Українська (Ukrainian)
  • اردو (Urdu)
  • Magyar (Hungarian)
  • मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
  • Indonesia (Indonesian)
  • Italiano (Italian)
  • தமிழ் (Tamil)
  • Türkçe (Turkish)
  • తెలుగు (Telugu)
  • ภาษาไทย (Thai)
  • Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
  • Čeština (Czech)
  • Polski (Polish)
  • Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
  • Românește (Romanian)
  • Nederlands (Dutch)
  • Ελληνικά (Greek)
  • Latinum (Latin)
  • Svenska (Swedish)
  • Dansk (Danish)
  • Suomi (Finnish)
  • فارسی (Persian)
  • ייִדיש (Yiddish)
  • հայերեն (Armenian)
  • Norsk (Norwegian)
  • English (English)


Use the citation below to add this poem to your bibliography:


"1929" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2023. Web. 30 Jan. 2023. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/147510/1929>.

Become a member!

Join our community of poets and poetry lovers to share your work and offer feedback and encouragement to writers all over the world!

January 2023

Poetry Contest

Enter our monthly contest for the chance to win cash prizes and gain recognition for your talent.

Browse Poetry.com


Are you a poetry master?

Roald Dahl wrote: "The animal I really dig, above all others is the..."
  • A. cat
  • B. horse
  • C. dog
  • D. pig