#AmericanWriters
Have you dug the spill Of Sugar Hill? Cast your gims On this sepia thrill: Brown sugar lassie,
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…
Here I sit With my shoes mismated. Lawdy—mercy! I’s frustrated!
I know I am The Negro Problem Being wined and dined, Answering the usual questions That come to white mind
My old man’s a white old man And my old mother’s black. If ever I cursed my white old man I take my curses back. If ever I cursed my black old mot…
I live on a park bench. You, Park Avenue. Hell of a distance Between us two. I beg a dime for dinner—
Only dumb guys fight. If I wasn’t dumb I wouldn’t be fightin’. I could make six dollars a day On the docks
I catch the pattern Of your silence Before you speak I do not need To hear a word.
He glides so swiftly Back into the grass— Gives me the courtesy of road To let me pass, That I am half ashamed
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams
You say I O.K.ed LONG DISTANCE? O.K.ed it when? My goodness, Central That was then!
Democracy will not come Today, this year Nor ever Through compromise and fear. I have as much right
Remember The days of bondage— And remembering— Do not stand still. Go to the highest hill
I work all day, Said Simple John, Myself a house to buy. I work all day, Said Simple John,