#AmericanWriters
When you turn the corner And you run into yourself Then you know that you have turned All the corners that are left
Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head w… Let the rain sing you a lullaby. The rain makes still pools on the… The rain makes running pools in th…
From Christ to Ghandi Appears this truth— St. Francis of Assisi Proves it, too: Goodness becomes grandeur
Good morning, daddy! Ain’t you heard The boogie—woogie rumble Of a dream deferred? Listen closely:
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.
Have you dug the spill Of Sugar Hill? Cast your gims On this sepia thrill: Brown sugar lassie,
Remember The days of bondage— And remembering— Do not stand still. Go to the highest hill
To fling my arms wide In some place of the sun, To whirl and to dance Till the white day is done. Then rest at cool evening
What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore— And then run?
I’ve known rivers: I’ve known rivers ancient as the w… flow of human blood in human veins My soul has grown deep like the ri… I bathed in the Euphrates when da…
I take my dreams and make of them… and a round fountain with a beauti… And a song with a broken heart and… Do you understand my dreams? Sometimes you say you do,
I went to the Gypsy’s. Gypsy settin’ all alone. I said, Tell me, Gypsy, When will my gal be home? Gypsy said, Silver,
Clean the spittoons, boy. Detroit, Chicago, Atlantic City, Palm Beach.
Democracy will not come Today, this year Nor ever Through compromise and fear. I have as much right
Night funeral In Harlem: Where did they get Them two fine cars? Insurance man, he did not pay—