#Americans #Blacks #PulitzerPrize #Women #XIXCentury #XXCentury
With your unknown to me Odd magic You came To me:
As if I’ve swallowed A watermelon And Sidestepping My digestive tract
The old men used to sing And lifted a brother Carefully Out the door I used to think they
Look into her eyes and know: She does not think
If my sorrow were deeper I’d be, along with you, under the ocean’s floor; but today I learn that the oil that pools beneath the ocean floor
Knowing you might some day come and how unprepared I’ve always been like Mr. Sloppy in Charles Dickens’
Expect nothing. Live frugally On surprise. become a stranger To need of pity Or, if compassion be freely
I have a friend who is turning gray, not just her hair, and I do not know why this is so.
Be nobody’s darling; Be an outcast. Take the contradictions Of your life And wrap around
My brothers knew The things you know. I did not scorn learning them; It’s just my mind
Going out to the garden this morning to plant seeds for my winter greens —the strong, fiery mustard
If I was President The first thing I would do is call Mumia Abu—Jamal. No, if I was president
You confide in me that you are lonely,
When the people have won a victory whether small or large do you ever wonder
Let other leaders Retire To play golf & write Memoirs
