#Americans #Blacks (January 2009) Poetry Source:
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And that is what poetry may do, wrap up your dreams, protect and preserve and hold them until maybe they come true. Columbus dreamed of finding a new world, he found it. Edison dreamed ...
I am your son, white man! Georgia dusk And the turpentine woods. One of the pillars of the temple f… You are my son!
Harlem Sent him home in a long box— Too dead To know why:
Well, son, I’ll tell you: Life for me ain’t been no crystal… It’s had tacks in it, And splinters, And boards torn up,
Good morning, daddy! Ain’t you heard The boogie—woogie rumble Of a dream deferred? Listen closely:
Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams
In the Quarter of the Negroes Where the doors are doors of paper Dust of dingy atoms Blows a scratchy sound. Amorphous jack—o’—Lanterns caper
The calm, Cool face of the river Asked me for a kiss.
The rent man knocked. He said, Howdy—do? I said, What Can I do for you? He said, You know
By what sends the white kids I ain’t sent: I know I can’t be President.
The gold moth did not love him So, gorgeous, she flew away. But the gray moth circled the flam… Until the break of day. And then, with wings like a dead d…
When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. Since I come up North de
Go home and write a page tonight. And let that page come out of you— Then, it will be true. I wonder if it’s that simple?