#Americans #Blacks #PulitzerPrize #Women #XIXCentury #XXCentury
My brothers knew The things you know. I did not scorn learning them; It’s just my mind
You confide in me that you are lonely,
I Sing of Mumia brilliant and strong and of the captivity that few black men escape
When you thought me poor, my poverty was shaming. When blackness was unwelcome we found it best that I stay home.
The old men used to sing And lifted a brother Carefully Out the door I used to think they
She is the one who will notice that the first snapdragon of Spring is
Before I leave the stage I will sing the only song I was meant truly to sing. It is the song of I AM.
I have a friend who is turning gray, not just her hair, and I do not know why this is so.
When the people have won a victory whether small or large do you ever wonder
Knowing you might some day come and how unprepared I’ve always been like Mr. Sloppy in Charles Dickens’
Word reaches us that you are sleeping, sleeping. Dismayed we have turned to the sea. We encounter among others
Let other leaders Retire To play golf & write Memoirs
His posture From so many years Holding his robe with one hand Is odd. His gait
The tree of life has fallen on my small house. I thought it was so much bigger! But it is not. There in the distance I see the m…
If I was President The first thing I would do is call Mumia Abu—Jamal. No, if I was president
