#AmericanWriters
In an envelope marked: PERSONAL God addressed me a letter. In an envelope marked: PERSONAL
Love Is a ripe plum Growing on a purple tree. Taste it once And the spell of its enchantment
Remember The days of bondage— And remembering— Do not stand still. Go to the highest hill
2 and 2 are 4. 4 and 4 are 8. But what would happen If the last 4 was late? And how would it be
Now dreams Are not available To the dreamers, Nor songs To the singers.
Goin’ down the road, Lawd, Goin’ down the road. Down the road, Lawd, Way, way down the road. Got to find somebody
When you turn the corner And you run into yourself Then you know that you have turned All the corners that are left
Droning a drowsy syncopated tune, Rocking back and forth to a mellow… I heard a Negro play. Down on Lenox Avenue the other ni… By the pale dull pallor of an old…
The gold moth did not love him So, gorgeous, she flew away. But the gray moth circled the flam… Until the break of day. And then, with wings like a dead d…
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?
He glides so swiftly Back into the grass— Gives me the courtesy of road To let me pass, That I am half ashamed
The rent man knocked. He said, Howdy—do? I said, What Can I do for you? He said, You know
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 —
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 ...
We passed their graves: The dead men there, Winners or losers, Did not care. In the dark