#AmericanWriters
I went down to the river, I set down on the bank. I tried to think but couldn’t, So I jumped in and sank. I came up once and hollered!
Now dreams Are not available To the dreamers, Nor songs To the singers.
I look at the world From awakening eyes in a black fac… And this is what I see: This fenced—off narrow space Assigned to me.
Democracy will not come Today, this year Nor ever Through compromise and fear. I have as much right
What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore— And then run?
By what sends the white kids I ain’t sent: I know I can’t be President.
I sat there singing her Songs in the dark. She said; 'I do not understand The words’.
Gather quickly Out of darkness All the songs you know And throw them at the sun Before they melt
When Susanna Jones wears red her face is like an ancient cameo Turned brown by the ages. Come with a blast of trumphets, J… When Susanna Jones wears red
Love Is a ripe plum Growing on a purple tree. Taste it once And the spell of its enchantment
Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams
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 ...
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.
In the Quarter of the Negroes Where the doors are doors of paper Dust of dingy atoms Blows a scratchy sound. Amorphous jack—o’—Lanterns caper
I am your son, white man! Georgia dusk And the turpentine woods. One of the pillars of the temple f… You are my son!