December 0

Blog Archive

Thu, 24.09.2009

WINTER IN AMERICA by Gil Scott Heron.

From the Indians who welcomed the Pilgrims
To the buffalo who once ruled the plains;
Like the vultures circling beneath the dark clouds,
Looking for the rain/looking for the rain.

From the cities that stagger on the coast lines
In a nation that just can’t take much more/
Like the forest buried beneath the highways, never had a chance to grow/never had a chance to grow.

It’s winter; winter in America and all of the leaders have been killed or forced away.
It’s winter; winter in America and ain’t nobody fighting ’cause nobody knows what to save.

The con-stitution was a noble piec

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New Poem Each Day

Poetry Corner

I have just seen a most beautiful thing Slim and still Against a gold, gold sky, A straight black cypress, Sensitive, Exquisite, A black finger Pointing upwards. Why, beautiful still finger, are you black? And why are you... THE BLACK FINGER by Angelina Weld Grimke’.
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