#AmericanWriters
The ivory gods, And the ebony gods, And the gods of diamond and jade, Sit silently on their temple shelv… While the people
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!
Clean the spittoons, boy. Detroit, Chicago, Atlantic City, Palm Beach.
I’m all alone in this world, she s… Ain’t got nobody to share my bed, Ain’t got nobody to hold my hand— The truth of the matter’s I ain’t got no man.
Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams
It’s such a Bore Being always Poor.
Remember The days of bondage— And remembering— Do not stand still. Go to the highest hill
We passed their graves: The dead men there, Winners or losers, Did not care. In the dark
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
He glides so swiftly Back into the grass— Gives me the courtesy of road To let me pass, That I am half ashamed
The gold moth did not love him So, gorgeous, she flew away. But the gray moth circled the flam… Until the break of day. And then, with wings like a dead d…
I’ve known rivers: I’ve known rivers ancient as the w… My soul has grown deep like the ri… I bathed in the Euphrates when da… I built my hut near the Congo and…
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
How quiet It is in this sick room Where on the bed A silent woman lies between two lo… Life and Death,