#AmericanWriters
To fling my arms wide In some place of the sun, To whirl and to dance Till the white day is done. Then rest at cool evening
My old mule, He’s gota grin on his face. He’s been a mule so long He’s forgotten about his race. I’m like that old mule —
In an envelope marked: PERSONAL God addressed me a letter. In an envelope marked: PERSONAL
I will take you heart. I will take your soul out of your… As though I were God. I will not be satisfied With the touch of your hand
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.
Where is the Jim Crow section On this merry—go—round, Mister, cause I want to ride? Down South where I come from White and colored
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—
My name is Johnson— Madam Alberta K. The Madam stands for business. I’m smart that way. I had a
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams
I sat there singing her Songs in the dark. She said; 'I do not understand The words’.
The rent man knocked. He said, Howdy—do? I said, What Can I do for you? He said, You know
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 ...
From Christ to Ghandi Appears this truth— St. Francis of Assisi Proves it, too: Goodness becomes grandeur
Remember The days of bondage— And remembering— Do not stand still. Go to the highest hill
Tell all my mourners To mourn in red — Cause there ain’t no sense In my bein’ dead.