#AmericanWriters
In an envelope marked: PERSONAL God addressed me a letter. In an envelope marked: PERSONAL
In the Quarter of the Negroes Where the doors are doors of paper Dust of dingy atoms Blows a scratchy sound. Amorphous jack—o’—Lanterns caper
When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. Since I come up North de
Well, son, I’ll tell you: Life for me ain’t been no crystal… It’s had tacks in it, And splinters, And boards torn up,
I play it cool I dig all jive. That's the reason I stay alive. My motto
Remember The days of bondage— And remembering— Do not stand still. Go to the highest hill
Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be. Let it be the pioneer on the plain Seeking a home where he himself is… (America never was America to me.…
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 ...
You and your whole race. Look down upon the town in which y… And be ashamed. Look down upon white folks And upon yourselves
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams
'Me an’ ma baby’s Got two mo’ ways, Two mo’ ways to do de Charleston!… Da, da, Da, da, da!
What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore— And then run?
Democracy will not come Today, this year Nor ever Through compromise and fear. I have as much right
You sicken me with lies, With truthful lies. And with your pious faces. And your wide, out—stretched, mock—welcome, Christian hands.
I could take the Harlem night and wrap around you, Take the neon lights and make a cr… Take the Lenox Avenue busses, Taxis, subways,