#AmericanWriters
It’s such a Bore Being always Poor.
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 down to the river, I set down on the bank. I tried to think but couldn’t, So I jumped in and sank. I came up once and hollered!
Harlem Sent him home in a long box— Too dead To know why:
I am God— Without one friend, Alone in my purity World without end. Below me young lovers
That Justice is a blind goddess Is a thing to which we black are w… Her bandage hides two festering so… That once perhaps were eyes.
Here I sit With my shoes mismated. Lawdy—mercy! I’s frustrated!
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,
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…
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
Tell all my mourners To mourn in red — Cause there ain’t no sense In my bein’ dead.
'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?
Clean the spittoons, boy. Detroit, Chicago, Atlantic City, Palm Beach.
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 ...