#AmericanWriters
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 —
Democracy will not come Today, this year Nor ever Through compromise and fear. I have as much right
It would be nice In any case, To someday meet you Face to face Walking down
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.…
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—
I am God— Without one friend, Alone in my purity World without end. Below me young lovers
What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore— And then run?
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 ...
You and your whole race. Look down upon the town in which y… And be ashamed. Look down upon white folks And upon yourselves
'Me an’ ma baby’s Got two mo’ ways, Two mo’ ways to do de Charleston!… Da, da, Da, da, da!
I woke up this mornin’ ’Bout half-past three. All the womens in town Was gathered round me. Sweet gals was a-moanin’,
Harlem Sent him home in a long box— Too dead To know why:
Love Is a ripe plum Growing on a purple tree. Taste it once And the spell of its enchantment
In an envelope marked: PERSONAL God addressed me a letter. In an envelope marked: PERSONAL
In places like Selma, Alabama, Kids say, In places like Chicago and New York...