#AmericanWriters #BlackWriters
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,
How still, How strangely still The water is today, It is not good For water
Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be. Let it be the pioneer on the plain Seeking a home where he himself is… (America never was America to me.…
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 catch the pattern Of your silence Before you speak I do not need To hear a word.
I play it cool I dig all jive. That's the reason I stay alive. My motto
I was so sick last night I Didn’t hardly know my mind. So sick last night I Didn’t know my mind. I drunk some bad licker that
I am your son, white man! Georgia dusk And the turpentine woods. One of the pillars of the temple f… You are my son!
Now dreams Are not available To the dreamers, Nor songs To the singers.
He glides so swiftly Back into the grass— Gives me the courtesy of road To let me pass, That I am half ashamed
Democracy will not come Today, this year Nor ever Through compromise and fear. I have as much right
My old man’s a white old man And my old mother’s black. If ever I cursed my white old man I take my curses back. If ever I cursed my black old mot…
Being walkers with the dawn and mo… Walkers with the sun and morning, We are not afraid of night, Nor days of gloom, Nor darkness—
Because my mouth Is wide with laughter And my throat Is deep with song, You do not think
When Susanna Jones wears red her face is like an ancient cameo Turned brown by the ages. Come with a blast of trumphets, J… When Susanna Jones wears red
