#AmericanWriters
He glides so swiftly Back into the grass— Gives me the courtesy of road To let me pass, That I am half ashamed
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.
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 was a long time ago. I have almost forgotten my dream. But it was there then, In front of me, Bright like a sun—
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
My old mule, He’s gota grin on his face. He’s been a mule so long He’s forgotten about his race. I’m like that old mule —
Democracy will not come Today, this year Nor ever Through compromise and fear. I have as much right
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 ...
You and your whole race. Look down upon the town in which y… And be ashamed. Look down upon white folks And upon yourselves
Only dumb guys fight. If I wasn’t dumb I wouldn’t be fightin’. I could make six dollars a day On the docks
You sicken me with lies, With truthful lies. And with your pious faces. And your wide, out—stretched, mock—welcome, Christian hands.
When you turn the corner And you run into yourself Then you know that you have turned All the corners that are left
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams
I dream a world where man No other man will scorn, Where love will bless the earth And peace its paths adorn I dream a world where all