#AmericanWriters #BlackWriters
I worked for a woman, She wasn’t mean— But she had a twelve—room House to clean. Had to get breakfast,
been scared and battered. My hopes the wind done scattered. Snow has friz me, Sun has baked me, Looks like between 'em they done
The rent man knocked. He said, Howdy—do? I said, What Can I do for you? He said, You know
I am your son, white man! Georgia dusk And the turpentine woods. One of the pillars of the temple f… You are my son!
He glides so swiftly Back into the grass— Gives me the courtesy of road To let me pass, That I am half ashamed
Landlord, landlord, My roof has sprung a leak. Don’t you 'member I told you abou… Way last week? Landlord, landlord,
I take my dreams and make of them… and a round fountain with a beauti… And a song with a broken heart and… Do you understand my dreams? Sometimes you say you do,
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 work all day, Said Simple John, Myself a house to buy. I work all day, Said Simple John,
In an envelope marked: PERSONAL God addressed me a letter. In an envelope marked: PERSONAL
The night is beautiful, So the faces of my people. The stars are beautiful, So the eyes of my people. Beautiful, also, is the sun.
2 and 2 are 4. 4 and 4 are 8. But what would happen If the last 4 was late? And how would it be
Droning a drowsy syncopated tune, Rocking back and forth to a mellow… I heard a Negro play. Down on Lenox Avenue the other ni… By the pale dull pallor of an old…
Down in the bass That steady beat Walking walking walking Like marching feet. Down in the bass
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?
