#AmericanWriters
Here I sit With my shoes mismated. Lawdy—mercy! I’s frustrated!
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
In an envelope marked: PERSONAL God addressed me a letter. In an envelope marked: PERSONAL
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 rent man knocked. He said, Howdy—do? I said, What Can I do for you? He said, You know
When I get to be a composer I’m gonna write me some music abou… Daybreak in Alabama And I’m gonna put the purtiest so… Rising out of the ground like a sw…
I, too, sing America. I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes, But I laugh,
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
In places like Selma, Alabama, Kids say, In places like Chicago and New York...
It would be nice In any case, To someday meet you Face to face Walking down
I am your son, white man! Georgia dusk And the turpentine woods. One of the pillars of the temple f… You are my son!
What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore— And then run?
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 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.
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