#AmericanWriters #BlackWriters
Night funeral In Harlem: Where did they get Them two fine cars? Insurance man, he did not pay—
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.…
Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head w… Let the rain sing you a lullaby. The rain makes still pools on the… The rain makes running pools in th…
I’m all alone in this world, she s… Ain’t got nobody to share my bed, Ain’t got nobody to hold my hand— The truth of the matter’s I ain’t got no man.
Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams
By what sends the white kids I ain’t sent: I know I can’t be President.
I work all day, Said Simple John, Myself a house to buy. I work all day, Said Simple John,
I live on a park bench. You, Park Avenue. Hell of a distance Between us two. I beg a dime for dinner—
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?
I went down to the river, I set down on the bank. I tried to think but couldn’t, So I jumped in and sank. I came up once and hollered!
I worked for a woman, She wasn’t mean— But she had a twelve—room House to clean. Had to get breakfast,
It was a long time ago. I have almost forgotten my dream. But it was there then, In front of me, Bright like a sun—
I woke up this mornin’ ’Bout half-past three. All the womens in town Was gathered round me. Sweet gals was a-moanin’,
You sicken me with lies, With truthful lies. And with your pious faces. And your wide, out—stretched, mock—welcome, Christian hands.
She, In the dark, Found light Brighter than many ever see. She,
