#AmericanWriters #BlackWriters #FemaleWriters #PulitzerPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury
I Sing of Mumia brilliant and strong and of the captivity that few black men escape
Before I leave the stage I will sing the only song I was meant truly to sing. It is the song of I AM.
Let other leaders Retire To play golf & write Memoirs
Word reaches us that you are sleeping, sleeping. Dismayed we have turned to the sea. We encounter among others
My brothers knew The things you know. I did not scorn learning them; It’s just my mind
Remember When we ended It all —for a weekend— & how
His posture From so many years Holding his robe with one hand Is odd. His gait
in our lifetime. Which makes the idea of elections Notice how this word has “man” right in the middle of it? That’s one reason I like it. He is right there, front and center. But he i...
Expect nothing. Live frugally On surprise. become a stranger To need of pity Or, if compassion be freely
My desire is always the same; wherever Life deposits me: I want to stick my toe & soon my whole body
How can Humanity look the deer in the face? How can I,
Don’t be like those who ask for ev… praise, a blurb, a free ride in my… limousine. They ask for everything… anything in return. Be like those who can see that my…
The old men used to sing And lifted a brother Carefully Out the door I used to think they
You confide in me that you are lonely,
Going out to the garden this morning to plant seeds for my winter greens —the strong, fiery mustard