#AmericanWriters
Clean the spittoons, boy. Detroit, Chicago, Atlantic City, Palm Beach.
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 rent man knocked. He said, Howdy—do? I said, What Can I do for you? He said, You know
Droning a drowsy syncopated tune, Rocking back and forth to a mellow… I heard a Negro play. Down on Lenox Avenue the other ni… By the pale dull pallor of an old…
The ivory gods, And the ebony gods, And the gods of diamond and jade, Sit silently on their temple shelv… While the people
When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. Since I come up North de
I catch the pattern Of your silence Before you speak I do not need To hear a word.
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 ...
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 got to leave this town. It’s a lonesome place. Got to leave this town cause It’s a lonesome place. A po’, po’ boy can’t
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.…
Here I sit With my shoes mismated. Lawdy—mercy! I’s frustrated!
Remember The days of bondage— And remembering— Do not stand still. Go to the highest hill
Have you dug the spill Of Sugar Hill? Cast your gims On this sepia thrill: Brown sugar lassie,
Now dreams Are not available To the dreamers, Nor songs To the singers.