December 0

Blog Archive

Thu, 24.09.2009

WHEN MAHALIA SINGS by Quandra Prettyman.

We used to gather in the high window of the holiness church and, tip-toe, look in and laugh at the dresses, too small on the ladies, and how wretched they all looked-an old garage for a church, for pews, old wooden chairs.
It seemed a lame excuse for a church.

learn more

New Poem Each Day

Poetry Corner

Twas mercy brought me from my Pagan land, Taught my benighted soul to understand That there's a God, that there's a Saviour too. Once I redemption neither sought... ON BEING BROUGHT FROM AFRICA TO AMERICA by Phyllis Wheatley.
Read More