Juke Box Love Song

I could take the Harlem night
and wrap around you,
Take the neon lights and make a crown,
Take the Lenox Avenue buses,
Taxis, subways,
And for your love song tone their rumble down.
Take Harlem's heartbeat,
Make it a drumbeat,
Put it on a record, let it whirl,
And while we listen to it play,
Dance with you till day -
Dance with you, my sweet brown Harlem girl.



by Langston Hughes

now poem. for us.

dont let them die out
all these old/blk/people
don't let them cop out
with their memories
of slavery/survival
it is our
heritage.
u know. part/african
part/negro.
part/slave
sit down with em brothas and sistuhs.
talk to em. listen to their
tales of victories/woes/sorrows.
listen to their blk/
myths.
record them talken their ago talk
for our tomorrows.
ask them bout the songs of
births. the herbs
that cured
their aches.
the crazy/
niggers blowen
some cracker's cool.

by Sonia Sanchez

Bronzeville Man With a Belt in the Back

In such an armor he may rise and raid
the dark cave after midnight, unafraid
And slice the shadows with his able sword
Of good broad nonchalence, hashing them down.

And come out and accept the gasping crowd,
Shake off the praises with an airiness.
And, searching, see love shining in an eye,
But never smile.

In such an armor he cannot be slain.

by Gwendolyn Brooks

Nikki-Rose

Childhood remembrances are always a drag
if you're Black
You always remember things like lving in Woodlawn
with no inside toilet
And if you become famous of something
they never talk about how happy you were to have your mother
all to yourself and
how good the water felt when you got your bath from one of those
big tubs that folk in Chicago barbeque in
and somehow when you talk about home
it never gets across how much you
understood their feelings
as the whole family attended meetings about Hollydale
and even though you remember
your biographers never understand
your father's pain as he sells his stock
and another dream goes
and though they fought a lot
it isn't your father's drinking that makes any difference
but only that everybody is together and you
and your sister have happy birthdays and very good Christmasses
and I really hope no white person ever has cause to write about me
because they never understand Black love is Black wealth and they'll
probably talk about my hard childhood and never understand that
all the while I was quite happy

By Nikki Giovanni

Me and the Mule

My old mule,
He's got a grin on his face.
He's been a mule for so long
He's forgot about his race.

I'm like that old mule -
Black - and don't give a damn!
You got to take me
Like I am.

by Langston Hughes

Touched By An Angel

We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight to liberate us into life.
Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.
We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love's light we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.

By Maya Angelou

Dreams

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

by: Langston Hughes