#AmericanWriters
Here I sit With my shoes mismated. Lawdy—mercy! I’s frustrated!
I was so sick last night I Didn’t hardly know my mind. So sick last night I Didn’t know my mind. I drunk some bad licker that
Have you dug the spill Of Sugar Hill? Cast your gims On this sepia thrill: Brown sugar lassie,
Night funeral In Harlem: Where did they get Them two fine cars? Insurance man, he did not pay—
I worked for a woman, She wasn’t mean— But she had a twelve—room House to clean. Had to get breakfast,
From Christ to Ghandi Appears this truth— St. Francis of Assisi Proves it, too: Goodness becomes grandeur
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 night is beautiful, So the faces of my people. The stars are beautiful, So the eyes of my people. Beautiful, also, is the sun.
been scared and battered. My hopes the wind done scattered. Snow has friz me, Sun has baked me, Looks like between 'em they done
It would be nice In any case, To someday meet you Face to face Walking down
It was a long time ago. I have almost forgotten my dream. But it was there then, In front of me, Bright like a sun—
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
I woke up this mornin’ ’Bout half-past three. All the womens in town Was gathered round me. Sweet gals was a-moanin’,
How quiet It is in this sick room Where on the bed A silent woman lies between two lo… Life and Death,
Good morning, daddy! Ain’t you heard The boogie—woogie rumble Of a dream deferred? Listen closely: