December 0

Blog Archive

Thu, 24.09.2009

SOUTHERN MANSION by Arna Bontemps.

Poplars are standing there still as death
and ghost of dead men
meet their ladies walking
two by two beneath the shade
and standing on the marble steps.

There is a sound of music echoing
through the open door
and in the field there is
another sound tinkling in the cotton:
chains of bondmen dragging on the ground.

The years go back with an iron clank,
a hand is on the gate,
a dry leaf trembles on the wall.
Ghost are walking.
They have broken roses down
and poplars stand there still as death….
Copyright 1963, by Arna Bontemps.

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Thu, 24.09.2009

A BLACK MAN TALKS OF REAPING by Arna Bontemps.

I have sown beside all waters in my day.
I planted deep, within my heart the fear That wind or fowl would take the grain away.

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New Poem Each Day

Poetry Corner

these hips are big hips they need space to move around in. they don't fit into little petty places. these hips are free hips. they don't like to be... HOMAGE TO MY HIPS by Lucille Clifton
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