I wish the rent Was heaven sent.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
For poems are like rainbows; they escape you quickly.
We build our temples for tomorrow, strong as we know how, and we stand on top of the mountain, free within ourselves.
Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be.
What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore – And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over – like a syrupy sweet? Maybe it just sags like a heavy load. Or does it explode?
Well, when Christ comes back this time, I hope He comes back mad His own self. I hope He drives the Jim Crowers out of their high places, every living last one of them from Washington to Texas.
Frosting Freedom Is just frosting On somebody else’s Cake – And so must be Till we Learn how to Bake.
I will not take “but” for an answer.
I am a Negro: Black as the night is black, Black like the depths of my Africa.
What happens to a dream deferred?
I stuck my head out the window this morning and spring kissed me bang in the face.
Folks, I’m telling you, birthing is hard and dying is mean- so get yourself a little loving in between.
Whiskey just naturally likes me but beer likes me better.
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.
Humor is laughing at what you haven’t got when you ought to have it.
I loved my friend He went away from me There’s nothing more to say The poem ends, Soft as it began- I loved my friend.
I swear to the Lord, I still can’t see, why Democracy means, everybody but me.
Blues had the pulse beat of the people who keep on going.
The calm, Cool face of the river, Asked me for a kiss.