I cannot sing because when a child, My mother often hushed me. The others she allowed to sing, No matter what their melody. And since I’ve grown to manhood All music I applaud, But have no voice for singing, So, I write my songs to God. I have ears and know the measures, And I’ll write a song for you, But the world […]
learn moreThe instructor said, Go home and write a page tonight. And let that page come out of you— Then, it will be true. I wonder if it’s that simple? I am twenty-two, colored, born in Winston-Salem. I went to school there, then Durham, then here to this college on the hill above Harlem. I am […]
learn moreNo matter how gentle the Black How light the skin How gorgeous the face How talented the soul How pure the intentions They will not protect us No matter how innocent the life How secure the birthright Titles will be stripped And babies tossed to wolves Because of a fear of Black skin They will […]
learn moreO’ de wurl’ ain’t flat,An’ de wurl’ ain’t roun’,H’it’s one long stripHangin’ up an’ down—Jes’ Souf an’ Norf;Jes’ Norf an’ Souf. —from Ariel Williams Holloway, “Northboun’” , 1926
learn moreThe old woman across the way is whipping the boy again and shouting to the neighborhood her goodness and his wrongs. Wildly he crashes through elephant ears, pleads in dusty zinnias, while she in spite of crippling fat pursues and corners him. She strikes and strikes the shrilly circling boy till the stick breaks in […]
learn moreI would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams Were it not for your songs. Langston Hughes
learn moreDon’t know why there no sun up in the sky, stormy weather.
Since my man and I ain’t together, keeps rainin all the time.
Life is time, the time. So weary all the time.
When he went away the blues walked in and met me.
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 mother
And wished she were in hell,
I’m sorry for that evil wish
And now I wish her well.
My old man died in a fine big house.
My ma died in a shack.
I wonder where I’m gonna die,
Being neither white nor black????
Copyright 1926 by Alfred A. Knopf.
Reference:
Langston Hughes
When first my bosom glowed with hope, I gazed as from a mountaintop On some delightful plain; But oh! How transient was the scene-It fled as though it had not been, And all my hopes were vain.
How oft this tantalizing blaze Has led me through deception’s maze; My friends became my foe-Then like a plaintive dove I mourned; To bitter all my sweets were turned, And tears began to flow.
Why was the dawning of my birth Upon this vile, accursed earth, Which is but pain to me? Oh!
learn moreThe windows of America are faceless,
incestuous screens pumiced in pure glass,
triangular, innocent, wired white hoods cropped in green glass.
Comatose and armed explorers
brought salt water from the ocean
to boil in three kettles as an offering;
The Indians smoked
on the mountaintrails
in buck heat high along the Columbia;
Lewis and Clark
their slave York,
took their salt up in their webbings;
the meat now cured,
the lumber stink off the river,
fertilize no soil without Indian blood
or red roses…
