Black poetry

[M.o_o.N]

BLACK POETRY 1965-2010



Black poetry : contains poems writtten by Black People for all those interested in Poetry with a distinct purpose




What is poetry?



That is not a rhetorical question. What it is we are discussing? I define poetry as "stylized language." Within the context of what is generally called literature, I further specify that poetry is language stylized to have an emotional impact on its audience. Within the world of English-language poetry, the chief methods of stylization are: 1. meter and/or rhythm 2. the specific use of sound usually in terms of a. rhyme b. assonance/consonance c. alliteration d. onomatopoeia 3. figurative language, chiefly similes and metaphors.

The canonical standards for contemporary American poetry have their beginnings in England with Shakespeare and their most important developments in the modernist movement of the 1920s (T.S. Eliot, Ezra Pound, Gertrude Stein, e.e. cummings and William Carlos Williams). The fountain heads of contemporary American poetry are considered to be Walt Whitman and Emily Dickerson.

When we look at black poetry, however, we find another, and equally important, source: namely black speech and music, a distinct and distinguished oral and aural tradition which predates America and stretches back to Africa. These two trains are the twin engines of African American, or what I would prefer to call African Diasporan poetry. Most literary criticism gives short shrift to, and very little critical understanding of, black speech/black music as a source of black poetry. Most literary criticism does not consider that our ancestral mother tongues were tonal languages, which to some non-Africans sound like singing rather than talking.

[M.o_o.N]

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The Black Clown

Langston Hughes


A dramatic monologue to be spoken by a pure-blooded Negro in the
white suit and hat of a clown, to the music of a piano, or an orchestra




You laugh
Because I’m poor and black and funny—
Not the same as you—
Because my mind is dull
And dice instead of books will do
For me to play with
When the day is through.

I am the fool of the whole world.
Laugh and push me down.
Only in song and laughter
I rise again—a black clown.
Strike up the music.
Let it be gay.
Only in joy
Can a clown have his day.

Three hundred years
In the cotton and the cane,
Plowing and reaping
With no gain—
Empty handed as I began.

A slave—under the whip,
Beaten and sore.
God! Give me laughter
That I can stand more.

God! Give me the spotted
Garments of a clown
So that the pain and the shame
Will not pull me down.

Freedom!
Abe Lincoln done set me free—
One little moment
To dance with glee.

Then sadness again—
No land, no house, no job,
No place to go.
Black—in a white world
Where cold winds blow.
The long struggle for life:
No schools, no work—
Not wanted here; not needed there—

Black—you can die.
Nobody will care—

Yet clinging to the ladder,
Round by round,
Trying to climb up,
Forever pushed down.

Day after day
White spit in my face—
Worker and clown am I
For the “civilized” race.

Nigger! Nigger! Nigger!
Scorn crushing me down.
Laugh at me! Laugh at me!
Just a black clown!

Laugh at me then,
All the world round—
From Africa to Georgia
I’m only a clown!

But no! Not forever
Like this will I be:
Here are my hands
That can really make me free!

Suffer and struggle.
Work, pray, and fight.
Smash my way through
To Manhood’s true right.

Say to all foemen:
You can’t keep me down!
Tear off the garments
That make me a clown!
Rise from the bottom,
Out of the slime!
Look at the stars yonder
Calling through time!

Cry to the world
That all might understand:
I was once a black clown
But now—
I’m a man!

____________________________________



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Dark Youth Of the U.S.A

Langston Hughes


A recitation to be delivered by a Negro boy, bright, clean, and neatly dressed
carrying his books to school


Sturdy I stand, books in my hand-
Today's dark child, tomorrow's strong man:
The hope of my race
to mould a place
In America's magic land.

American am I, none can deny:
He who oppresses me, him I defy!
I am Dark Youth
Seeking the truth
Of a free life beneath our great sky.

Long a part of the Union's heart-
Years ago at the nation's start
Attucks died
That right might abide
And strength to our land impart.

To be wise and strong, then studying long,
Seeking the knowledge that rights all wrong-
That is my mission.
Lifting my race to its rightful place
Till beauty and pride fills each dark face
Is my ambition.

So I climb toward tomorrow, out of past sorrow,
Treading the modern way
With the White and the Black whom nothing holds
back-
The American Youth of Today.

[M.o_o.N]

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The Colored Soldier

Langston Hughes


We were just two colored boys, brown and black,

Who joined up to fight for the U.S.A.

When the Nation called us that mighty day.

We were sent to training camp, then overseas—

And me and my brother were happy as you please

Thinking we were fighting for Democracy’s true reign

And that our dark blood would wipe away the stain

Of prejudice, and hate, and the false color line—

And give us the rights that are yours and mine.

They told us America would know no black or white:

So we marched to the front, happy to fight.

Last night in a dream my brother came to me

Out of his grave from over the sea.

Back from the acres of crosses in France,

And said to me, “Brother, you’ve got your chance,

And I hope you’re making good, and doing fine—

‘Cause when I was living, I didn’t have mine.

Black boys couldn’t work then anywhere like they can today,

Could hardly find a job that offered decent pay.

The unions barred us; the factories, too,

But now I know we’ve got plenty to do.

We couldn’t eat in restaurants; had Jim Crow cars;

Didn’t have any schools; and there were all sorts of bars

To a colored boy’s rising in wealth or station—

But now I know well that’s not our situation:

The world’s been made safe for Democracy

And no longer do we know the dark misery

Of being held back, of having no chance—

Since the colored soldiers came home from France.

Didn’t our government tell us things would be fine

When we got through fighting. Over There, and dying?

So now I know we blacks are just like any other—

‘Cause that’s what I died for—isn’t it, Brother?”

And I saw him standing there, straight and tall,

In his soldier’s uniform, and all.

Then his dark face smiled at me in the night—

But the dream was cruel—and bitter—and somehow not right.

It was awful—facing that boy who went out to die,

For what could I answer him, except, “It’s a lie!”

It’s a lie! It’s a lie! Every word they said.

And it’s better a thousand times you’re in France dead.

For here in the South there’s no votes and no right.

And I’m still just a “nigger” in America tonight.

Then I woke up, and the dream was ended—

But broken was the soldier’s dream, too bad to be mended.

And it’s a good thing all the black boys lying dead

Over There

Can’t see! And don’t know! And won’t ever care!

___________________________________


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The Negro Mother

Langston Hughes


Children, I come back today
To tell you a story of the long dark way
That I had to climb, that I had to know
In order that the race might live and grow.
Look at my face -- dark as the night --
Yet shining like the sun with love's true light.
I am the dark girl who crossed the red sea
Carrying in my body the seed of the free.
I am the woman who worked in the field
Bringing the cotton and the corn to yield.
I am the one who labored as a slave,
Beaten and mistreated for the work that I gave --
Children sold away from me, I'm husband sold, too.
No safety , no love, no respect was I due.

Three hundred years in the deepest South:
But God put a song and a prayer in my mouth .
God put a dream like steel in my soul.
Now, through my children, I'm reaching the goal.

Now, through my children, young and free,
I realized the blessing deed to me.
I couldn't read then. I couldn't write.
I had nothing, back there in the night.
Sometimes, the valley was filled with tears,
But I kept trudging on through the lonely years.
Sometimes, the road was hot with the sun,
But I had to keep on till my work was done:
I had to keep on! No stopping for me --
I was the seed of the coming Free.
I nourished the dream that nothing could smother
Deep in my breast -- the Negro mother.
I had only hope then , but now through you,
Dark ones of today, my dreams must come true:
All you dark children in the world out there,
Remember my sweat, my pain, my despair.
Remember my years, heavy with sorrow --
And make of those years a torch for tomorrow.
Make of my pass a road to the light
Out of the darkness, the ignorance, the night.
Lift high my banner out of the dust.
Stand like free men supporting my trust.
Believe in the right, let none push you back.
Remember the whip and the slaver's track.
Remember how the strong in struggle and strife
Still bar you the way, and deny you life --
But march ever forward, breaking down bars.
Look ever upward at the sun and the stars.
Oh, my dark children, may my dreams and my prayers
Impel you forever up the great stairs --
For I will be with you till no white brother
Dares keep down the children of the NEGRO MOTHER.

[جاكوار2]

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[BENT ALGNOB]

Nice very NiceIt,s a beautiful work when we read these Hughes,s poems that talk about Black People Rights . I,m very happy to read it so , thank you very much M o o N


YeeeesSeeeking the truth
Of a free life beneath our great sky



Happy life my dear
for ever

[Petunia]

i don't know why that people are very disappointed they often think that other people ignore them


because of their color>> how strange





the nicest moon ever thanks friend

جزاك الله خير

[البـارع]

thanks Moon

useful collection

regards

[M.o_o.N]

Thank you dear friends

Pink , I think they had suffered in the past because of the American society & the slavery age their parents been through . Even nowadays the racism between races are clear.

[البـارع]

Pink , I think they had suffered in the past because of the American society & the slavery age their parents been through . Even nowadays the racism between races are clear.


definitely right
in case of literature, we can notice the effect of the novel "uncle's Tom cabin" , it made some change in American society views about black people ,and it enhanced anti-slavery

[M.o_o.N]

البارع

I am glad we are Muslims & there is no such "colored" among us. We all are equal .

[:lost lady:]

Very interesting and useful collection indeed
langston hughes was the most popular and versatile of the many black writers connected with harlem renaissance movement.
he was a great poet , but he faced many difficulties in writhing about black people issues. Moon I studied about them last term and I'll try to write about their movements ,their themes and their poets later....many thanks dear

[M.o_o.N]

L.L

I studied Dudly Randal , his ballad about the girl who died in the church is so sad that can drop your tears whenever you read it over and over again.
I will be waiting for your topic . Thanks my dear sister for your fabulous comment

[Pr!ncess#89#]

ooooh so nice dear

i enjoy when i read it

really it is great work

thanxxx

[M.o_o.N]

Pr!ncess#89#


welcome my dear