#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?
I, too, sing America. I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes, But I laugh,
Love Is a ripe plum Growing on a purple tree. Taste it once And the spell of its enchantment
Good morning, daddy! Ain’t you heard The boogie—woogie rumble Of a dream deferred? Listen closely:
I am God— Without one friend, Alone in my purity World without end. Below me young lovers
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
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…
Clean the spittoons, boy. Detroit, Chicago, Atlantic City, Palm Beach.
Goin’ down the road, Lawd, Goin’ down the road. Down the road, Lawd, Way, way down the road. Got to find somebody
My old man’s a white old man And my old mother’s black. If ever I cursed my white old man I take my curses back. If ever I cursed my black old mot…
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
I know I am The Negro Problem Being wined and dined, Answering the usual questions That come to white mind
I woke up this mornin’ ’Bout half-past three. All the womens in town Was gathered round me. Sweet gals was a-moanin’,
Fine living . . . a la carte? Come to the Waldorf—Astoria! LISTEN HUNGRY ONES! Look! See what Vanity Fair says… new Waldorf—Astoria:
I live on a park bench. You, Park Avenue. Hell of a distance Between us two. I beg a dime for dinner—