Jonathan Rochester
Let America Be America Again by Langston Hughes
Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.
(America never was America to me.)
Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed--
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.
(It never was America to me.)
O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.
(There's never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.")
Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?
I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek--
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.
I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one's own greed!
I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean--
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today--O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.
Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings
In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That's made America the land it has become.
O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home--
For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore,
And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa's strand I came
To build a "homeland of the free."
The free?
Who said the free? Not me?
Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we've dreamed
And all the songs we've sung
And all the hopes we've held
And all the flags we've hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay--
Except the dream that's almost dead today.
O, let America be America again--
The land that never has been yet--
And yet must be--the land where every man is free.
The land that's mine--the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME--
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.
Sure, call me any ugly name you choose--
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people's lives,
We must take back our land again,
America!
O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath--
America will be!
Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain--
All, all the stretch of these great green states--
And make America again!
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.
(America never was America to me.)
Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed--
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.
(It never was America to me.)
O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.
(There's never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.")
Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?
I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek--
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.
I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one's own greed!
I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean--
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today--O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.
Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings
In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That's made America the land it has become.
O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home--
For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore,
And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa's strand I came
To build a "homeland of the free."
The free?
Who said the free? Not me?
Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we've dreamed
And all the songs we've sung
And all the hopes we've held
And all the flags we've hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay--
Except the dream that's almost dead today.
O, let America be America again--
The land that never has been yet--
And yet must be--the land where every man is free.
The land that's mine--the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME--
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.
Sure, call me any ugly name you choose--
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people's lives,
We must take back our land again,
America!
O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath--
America will be!
Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain--
All, all the stretch of these great green states--
And make America again!
________________________________________________________________________________
Loey Peete
In Flanders Fields
by Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe;
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
****************************************************
Jana Armstrong
Joyce Kilmer. 1886–1918
|
119. Trees
|
I THINK that I shall never see
|
A poem lovely as a tree.
|
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
|
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;
|
A tree that looks at God all day,
|
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
|
A tree that may in summer wear
|
A nest of robins in her hair;
|
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
|
Who intimately lives with rain.
|
Poems are made by fools like me,
|
But only God can make a tree.
|
Destiny Dillard
grant martin
Diabetes Day
| Wake up in the morning, As perfect as can be. Poke a little finger, It only hurts a pinch! Argue over insulin, And have a shot or two. Then I have my breakfast, And run on out to play. Come back in, And wash a grubby hand. Then poke a little finger, It only hurts a bit! Argue over insulin, And have a little shot. Then down that lunch, And take a snooze. Wake up from my slumber, I smell a roast a'cookin'! Poke a little finger, It only hurts a snitch! Argue over insulin, And take a shot or two. And eat that roast through and through. I got through a day, And so can you!! -Kiersten Ridgel Put together on July 2,2002 |
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Austin Davis
My house is torn down-- Plaster sifting, the pillars broken, Beams jagged, the wall crushed by the bulldozer. The whole roof has fallen On the hall and the kitchen The bedrooms, the parlor. They are trampling the garden-- My mother's lilac, my father's grapevine, The freesias, the jonquils, the grasses. Hot asphalt goes down Over the torn stems, and hardens. What will they do in springtime Those bulbs and stems groping upward That drown in earth under the paving, Thick with sap, pale in the dark As they try the unrolling of green. May they double themselves Pushing together up to the sunlight, May they break through the seal stretched above themOpen and flower and cry we are living.
-Anne Stanford
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
I WANDERED lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
******************************************************************************************
Kendall Moore
DON’T QUIT
writen by Edgar A. Guest
When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
When the road you’re trudging seems all up hill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressuring you down a bit,
Rest, if you must—but don’t you quit.
When the road you’re trudging seems all up hill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressuring you down a bit,
Rest, if you must—but don’t you quit.
Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about
When he might have won had he stuck it out;
Don’t give up, though the pace seems slow--
You may succeed with another blow.
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about
When he might have won had he stuck it out;
Don’t give up, though the pace seems slow--
You may succeed with another blow.
Often the goal is nearer than
It seems to a faint and faltering man.
Often the struggler has given up
When he might have captured the victor’s cup.
And he learned too late, when the night slipped down,
How close he was to the golden crown.
It seems to a faint and faltering man.
Often the struggler has given up
When he might have captured the victor’s cup.
And he learned too late, when the night slipped down,
How close he was to the golden crown.
Success is failure turned inside out—
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt.
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt.
And you can never tell how close you are;
It may be near when it seems afar;
So stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit—
It’s when things seem worst that you mustn’t quit.
Chase Payne
A understanding heart,
A source of strength and of support
Right from the very start.
A constant readiness to help
In a kind and thoughtful way.
With encouragement and forgiveness
No matter what comes your way.
A special generosity and always affection, too
A Father means so many things
When he's a man like you...
- Author Unknown
Auston Wingard
How to See Deer | ||
| by Philip Booth | ||
Forget roadside crossings. Go nowhere with guns. Go elsewhere your own way, lonely and wanting. Or stay and be early: next to deep woods inhabit old orchards. All clearings promise. Sunrise is good, and fog before sun. Expect nothing always; find your luck slowly. Wait out the windfall. Take your good time to learn to read ferns; make like a turtle: downhill toward slow water. Instructed by heron, drink the pure silence. Be compassed by wind. If you quiver like aspen trust your quick nature: let your ear teach you which way to listen. You've come to assume protective color; now colors reform to new shapes in your eye. You've learned by now to wait without waiting; as if it were dusk look into light falling: in deep relief things even out. Be careless of nothing. See what you see. | ||
****************************************************
Jaclyn Largin
Unknown-
I’m writing this from heaven, where I dwell with God above.
Where there are no more tears or sadness, there’s just eternal love.
Please do not be unhappy because I am out of sight
Remember that I am with you every morning, noon and night.
And I will stay beside you, every day, week, and year
And when you’re sad I’ll still be there to wipe away your tears.
Because you’re only human their bond to bring you tears.
But do not be afraid to cry, it does relieve the pain
Remember there wouldn’t be flowers unless we first had rain.
I wish I could tell you, of all that God has planned
But even if I were able to tell you, you wouldn’t understand.
When you’re going down the street, and you’ve got be on your mind
I’m walking in your footsteps and only half a step behind.
And if you feel a gentle breeze or wind upon your face
Remember it’s only me with a loving and soft embrace.
When tomorrow starts without me, and I’m not there to see,
The sun will rise and find your eyes all filled with tears for me,
I wish so much you wouldn’t cry the way you did today,
While thinking of the many things, we didn’t get to say.
I know how much you love me, as much as I love you,
And each time that you think of me, I know you’ll miss me too,
Life at times will catch you unawares but please try to understand,
That an angel came and called my name, and took me by my hand.
He said my place was ready, in heaven way up above,
And that I’d have to leave behind all those I dearly loved.
As I turned to walk away, the tears fell from my eyes,
For all my life I’d always thought I didn’t want to die.
I had so much to live for, so much left yet to do,
It seemed so very cruel to me that I was leaving you.
Thoughts of all our yesterdays, the good ones and the bad,
Are remembered for all the love we shared especially the fun we had.
If I could relive just yesterday, even for a short while,
I’d say my goodbyes and kiss you, and hopefully see you smile.
As the days pass into weeks, don’t think we’re far apart,
For every time you think of me, I’ll be there in your heart.
I’ll walk slow-
You walk fast-
And soon, we’ll be together, in heaven
At last!
********************************************************************
Hagan Joiner
Parallels by: D.L.WhitedI saw an aging flower today
All alone and slowly dying
A single tear slid down my cheek
I felt better for the crying
There is so much deep inside
That I keep hidden out of sight
Walls of pain that I put up
Built to hide me from the light
Could you take away the hurt
If I reached blindly for your hand
Or would you simply turn away
And not want to understand
So many reasons I hold on
None of which I can explain
But my time will one day end
Like a gentle summer rain
I saw an aging flower today
All alone and slowly dying
A single tear slid down my cheek
I felt better for the crying
Take an original photograph to illustrate the meaning of a poem chosen from one of the links on this blog. The goal is not to simply reproduce the main subject of the poem (a dancing naked man for "Danse Russe" for example); rather, your goal should be to represent the poem's mood or message. You will upload your photograph AND the selected poem to this page - "Assignment 2". Include your name and that of the author on your post.
