#AmericanWriters
What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore— And then run?
been scared and battered. My hopes the wind done scattered. Snow has friz me, Sun has baked me, Looks like between 'em they done
Oh, silver tree! Oh, shining rivers of the soul! In a Harlem cabaret Six long—headed jazzers play. A dancing girl whose eyes are bold
Listen! Dear dream of utter aliveness— Touching my body of utter death— Tell me, O quickly! dream of aliv… The flaming source of your bright…
Harlem Sent him home in a long box— Too dead To know why:
Because my mouth Is wide with laughter And my throat Is deep with song, You do not think
Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams
The ivory gods, And the ebony gods, And the gods of diamond and jade, Sit silently on their temple shelv… While the people
I dream a world where man No other man will scorn, Where love will bless the earth And peace its paths adorn I dream a world where all
Gather quickly Out of darkness All the songs you know And throw them at the sun Before they melt
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 ...
I live on a park bench. You, Park Avenue. Hell of a distance Between us two. I beg a dime for dinner—
I got to leave this town. It’s a lonesome place. Got to leave this town cause It’s a lonesome place. A po’, po’ boy can’t
Fine living . . . a la carte? Come to the Waldorf—Astoria! LISTEN HUNGRY ONES! Look! See what Vanity Fair says… new Waldorf—Astoria:
He glides so swiftly Back into the grass— Gives me the courtesy of road To let me pass, That I am half ashamed