#AmericanWriters
The rent man knocked. He said, Howdy—do? I said, What Can I do for you? He said, You know
I was so sick last night I Didn’t hardly know my mind. So sick last night I Didn’t know my mind. I drunk some bad licker that
Harlem Sent him home in a long box— Too dead To know why:
What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore— And then run?
When the shoe strings break On both your shoes And you’re in a hurry— That’s the blues. When you go to buy a candy bar
How still, How strangely still The water is today, It is not good For water
I worked for a woman, She wasn’t mean— But she had a twelve—room House to clean. Had to get breakfast,
I catch the pattern Of your silence Before you speak I do not need To hear a word.
When a man starts out with nothing… When a man starts out with his han… Empty, but clean, When a man starts to build a world… He starts first with himself
Democracy will not come Today, this year Nor ever Through compromise and fear. I have as much right
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…
It was a long time ago. I have almost forgotten my dream. But it was there then, In front of me, Bright like a sun—
Good morning, daddy! Ain’t you heard The boogie—woogie rumble Of a dream deferred? Listen closely:
She, In the dark, Found light Brighter than many ever see. She,
I live on a park bench. You, Park Avenue. Hell of a distance Between us two. I beg a dime for dinner—