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A Love Letter
OH, I des received a letter f'om de sweetest little gal;
Oh, my; oh, my.
She's my lovely little sweetheart an' her name is Sal:
Oh, my; oh, my.
She writes me dat she loves me an' she loves me true,
She wonders ef I'll tell huh dat I loves huh, too;
An' my heaht's so full o' music dat I do' know what to do;
Oh, my; oh, my.
I got a man to read it an' he read it fine;
Oh, my; oh, my.
Dey ain' no use denying dat her love is mine;
Oh, my; oh, my.
But hyeah's de t'ing dat's puttin' me in such a awful plight,
I t'ink of huh at mornin' an' I dream of huh at night;
But how's I gwine to cou't huh w'en I do' know how to write?
Oh, my; oh, my.
My heaht is bubblin' ovah wid de t'ings I want to say;
Oh, my; oh, my.
An' dey's lots of folks to copy what I tell 'em fu' de pay;
Oh, my; oh, my.
But dey's t'ings dat I's a-t'inkin' dat is only fu' huh ears,
An' I couldn't lu'n to write 'em ef I took a dozen years;
So to go down daih an' tell huh is de only way, it 'pears;
Oh, my; oh, my.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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It Is The 'ing' Of Things Which Are Real
ongoing, loving, living,
existing, thinking,
agonizing, forgiving,
accepting,
drinking, thirsting,
eating, filling, filing,
reading, writing, singing,
philosophizing, mesmerizing,
sitting, setting, making, carrying,
bleeding, healing, bullying,
touching, merrymaking, seeding, planting, growing
these are the 'ings'
for they are real, and true and beautiful
keep going, keeping, storing, giving, releasing, freeing, seething, soothing, ....ing, , , , , ing....inging...there is no stopping of these 'ings'
moving living singing flying floating diving dying.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Europe, they're more demanding, the ones that rent the build ings.
quote by Helmut Jahn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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De Way T'ings Come
De way t'ings come, hit seems to me,
Is des' one monst'ous mystery;
De way hit seem to strike a man,
Dey ain't no sense, dey ain't no plan;
Ef trouble sta'ts a pilin' down,
It ain't no use to rage er frown,
It ain't no use to strive er pray,
Hit's mortal boun' to come dat way.
Now, ef you 's hongry, an' yo' plate
Des' keep on sayin' to you, 'Wait,'
Don't mek no diffunce how you feel,
'T won't do no good to hunt a meal,
Fu' dat ah meal des' boun' to hide
Ontwell de devil's satisfied,
An' 'twell dey's some'p'n by to cyave
You 's got to ease yo'se'f an' sta've.
But ef dey 's co'n meal on de she'f
You need n't bothah 'roun' yo'se'f,
Somebody's boun' to amble in
An' 'vite you to dey co'n meal bin;
An' ef you 's stuffed up to be froat
Wid co'n er middlin', fowl er shoat,
Des' look out an' you 'll see fu' sho
A 'possum faint befo' yo' do'.
De way t'ings happen, huhuh, chile,
Dis worl' 's done puzzled me one w'ile;
I 's mighty skeered I 'll fall in doubt,
I des' won't try to reason out
De reason why folks strive an' plan
A dinnah fu' a full-fed man,
An' shet de do' an' cross de street
F'om one dat raaly needs to eat.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Opportunity
GRANNY'S gone a-visitin',
Seen huh git huh shawl
W'en I was a-hidin' down
Hime de gyahden wall.
Seen huh put her bonnet on,
Seen huh tie de strings,
An' I'se gone to dreamin' now
'Bout dem cakes an' t'ings.
On de she'f behime de do' —
Mussy, what a feas'!
Soon ez she gits out o' sight,
I kin eat in peace.
I bin watchin' fu' a week
Des fu' dis hyeah chance.
Mussy, w'en I gits in daih,
I'll des sholy dance.
Lemon pie an' gingah-cake,
Let me set an' t'ink —
Vinegah an' sugah, too,
Dat 'll mek a drink;
Ef dey's one t'ing dat I loves
Mos' pu'ticlahly,
It is eatin' sweet t'ings an'
A-drinkin' Sangaree.
Lawdy, won' po' granny raih
W'en she see de she'f;
W'en I t'ink erbout huh face,
I's mos' 'shamed myse'f.
Well, she gone, an' hyeah I is,
Back behime de do' —
Look hyeah! gran' 's done 'spected me,
Dain't no sweets no mo'.
Evah sweet is hid erway,
Job des done up brown;
Pusson t'ink dat someun t'ought
Dey was t'eves erroun';
Dat des breaks my heart in two,
Oh how bad I feel!
Des to t'ink my own gramma
B'lieved dat I 'u'd steal!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Chrismus Is A-Comin
Bones a-gittin' achy,
Back a-feelin' col',
Han's a-growin' shaky,
Jes' lak I was ol'.
Fros' erpon de meddah
Lookin' mighty white;
Snowdraps lak a feddah
Slippin' down at night.
Jes' keep t'ings a-hummin'
Spite o' fros' an' showahs,
Chrismus is a-comin'
An' all de week is ouahs.
Little mas' a-axin',
'Who is Santy Claus?'
Meks it kin' o' taxin'
Not to brek de laws.
Chillun 's pow'ful tryin'
To a pusson's grace
Wen dey go a pryin'
Right on th'oo you' face
Down ermong yo' feelin's;
Jes' 'pears lak dat you
Got to change you' dealin's
So 's to tell 'em true.
An' my pickaninny--
Dreamin' in his sleep!
Come hyeah, Mammy Jinny,
Come an' tek a peep.
Ol Mas' Bob an' Missis
In dey house up daih
Got no chile lak dis is,
D' ain't none anywhaih.
Sleep, my little lammy,
Sleep, you little limb,
He do' know whut mammy
Done saved up fu' him.
Dey 'll be banjo pickin',
Dancin' all night thoo.
Dey 'll be lots o' chicken,
Plenty tukky, too.
Drams to wet yo' whistles
So 's to drive out chills.
Whut I keer fu' drizzles
Fallin' on de hills?
Jes' keep t'ings a-hummin'
Spite o' col' an' showahs,
Chrismus day 's a-comin',
An' all de week is ouahs.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Curiosity
MAMMY'S in de kitchen, an' de do' is shet;
All de pickaninnies climb an' tug an' sweat,
Gittin' to de winder, stickin' dah lak flies,
Evah one ermong us des all nose an' eyes.
'Whut's she cookin', Isaac?' 'Whut's she cookin', Jake?'
'Is it sweet pertaters? Is hit pie er cake?'
But we couldn't mek out even whah we stood
Whut was mammy cookin' dat could smell so good.
Mammy spread de winder, an' she frown an frown.
How de pickaninnies come a-tumblin' down!
Den she say: 'Ef you-all keeps a-peepin' in,
How I'se gwine to whup you, my! 't 'ill be a sin!
Need n' come a-sniffin' an' a-nosin' hyeah,
'Ca'se I knows my business, nevah feah.'
Won't somebody tell us — how I wish dey would! —
Whut is mammy cookin' dat it smells so good?
We know she means business, an' we dassent stay,
Dough it's mighty tryin' fuh to go erway;
But we goes a-troopin' down de ol' wood-track
'Twell dat steamin' kitchen brings us stealin' back,
Climbin' an' a-peepin' so's to see inside.
Whut on earf kin mammy be so sha'p to hide?
I'd des up an' tell folks w'en I knowed I could,
Ef I was a-cookin' t'ings dat smelt so good.
Mammy in de oven, an' I see huh smile;
Moufs mus' be a-wat'rin' roun' hyeah fuh a mile;
Den we almos' hollah ez we hu'ies down,
'Ca'se hit's apple dumplin's, big an' fat an' brown!
W'en de do' is opened, solemn lak an' slow,
Wisht you see us settin' all dah in a row
Innercent an' p'opah, des lak chillun should
W'en dey mammy's cookin' t'ings dat smell so good.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Further Afric Echoes
By gar! I tell-a you, t'ings don't stop
Since da war he come wit' a rush,
When Nicko, da boss at da fry-fish shop,
He sack-a Black Sam, da slush.
I tella you how Nick t'row Sam out
An' say for to notta come back;
An' I tella how Sam play turn about
An' launch-a da count' attack.
Well, t'ings dey move like da grease-a-da-light.
Nick speak-a to four, five friend,
An' he say: 'We make-a raid tonight
An' bringa dis war for end.'
So dey find-a where Sam an' his friends hang out,
An' dey snap-a da fing' at da law
When dey make-a da plan for da midnight rout
An' da dirty sock-a-da-jaw.
But Sammo he got da spy in da camp,
An' he catch-a da hint what drp,
So he spill-a da tale of Nicka da scamp
In da ear of da corner-a cop.
Den da cop meet Nick an' his friends dat night
An' make t'rcat for the runnin' dem in
But Nick say: 'Call-a you'seluf da white
For proteck black Abb-da-sin?'
Say da cop: 'Datta be about all from you.
More bettra you buzz off, lad,
Or you cool-a da heel, an' you cobber, too.'
Den Nicko he wile like-a mad.
An' he say: 'Do dey smash-a my shop, by gar,
An' I catch-a no compensaish'?
Santa da Luce! What you t'inkin' you are
Da bloom-a League-a-da-Naish?'
Den Nick get wile, an' his frien's get wile,
An' da cop get wile like 'ell;
An' da lingua dey use, so you hear for a mile,
It not-a for me to tell,
But da cop he cool off by by an'-a by,
An' he say: 'Cut-a out da swank!
You make-a da peace, or me, I apply
Da eco-da-nomic sanc'.'
'Now I tells da boys (da cop he say)
From da ironwork out-a da back,
An' da girls from da jam-fac' over da way
To declare-a you' fry-fish black!
What-a you do den, Mista Musso-da-lin?
Datta food for t'ink, ole quince.'
But Nicko, he grinnin' da sickly grin;
An' he t'ink hard ever-a since.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Creative Nonfiction
Let us
now speak
about our
history:
The past as
it was, no longer
to be.
Let us
remember
the nostalgic things
Retarding
in residual
glory.
The past l-o-s-e-s
the luster o f
meaning
Af ter sev
ralrepeetd
list
en
ings,
But that
doesn't pre
vent
how we forget
Our om
nipre
sent
state of now being.
If our time together
were a cassette,
Re cording
our interlocking
du et,
Let us
spittle hymns
almost
mindlessly
With un
restrained
sentiment
ality.
Let us
be persuasive
in our pi
ty
As the present passes past
you and me.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Song
Wintah, summah, snow er shine,
Hit's all de same to me,
Ef only I kin call you mine,
An' keep you by my knee.
Ha'dship, frolic, grief er caih,
Content by night an' day,
Ef only I kin see you whaih
You wait beside de way.
Livin', dyin', smiles er teahs,
My soul will still be free,
Ef only thoo de comin' yeahs
You walk de worl' wid me.
Bird-song, breeze-wail, chune er moan,
What puny t'ings dey'll be,
Ef w'en I's seemin' all erlone,
I knows yo' hea't's wid me.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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A Death Song
Lay me down beneaf de willers in de grass,
Whah de branch 'll go a-singin' as it pass.
An' w'en I's a-layin' low,
I kin hyeah it as it go
Singin', 'Sleep, my honey, tek yo' res' at las'.'
Lay me nigh to whah hit meks a little pool,
An' de watah stan's so quiet lak an' cool,
Whah de little birds in spring,
Ust to come an' drink an' sing,
An' de chillen waded on dey way to school.
Let me settle w'en my shouldahs draps dey load
Nigh enough to hyeah de noises in de road;
Fu' I t'ink de las' long res'
Gwine to soothe my sperrit bes'
Ef I's layin' 'mong de t'ings I's allus knowed.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Chequer Board
Tomorrow [b]rings tomorrow, s[tr]ings today
Across the chequer board of day and night
Karmic - some say graven black on white -
Each on his Way must thread, to piper pay.
Time is a trick oasis, sent to play
Its cards to chaos compensate or right.
Master dream wave patterns with insight.
Enjoy life’s game untamed, don’t, blind, obey,
Out of kilter twisting Fate, whose sway
Filters much which to vain future bright
Fain would advance. Fight struggles senseless quite.
Nature teaches: overreach past spray.
Only open searching springs release,
Will Cause, Effect, combine, fine tune, [b]ring peace...
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Lady’s virus
Never loves any girl
Never trust any girl
She not love you
Just only play with you
You never give your
Heard any girl
Girls is tell you my heard
Is like a rabbits
But it is not true
Girls heard are very hard
They don’t love you
They only play your feel ings
Girls don’t know about love
They only know
Broken your heard
Any girl tell you
She really love you
You think that she
Fun with you
So don’t trust any girls
And never love a girl
poem by Shaihan Islam
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Tomorrow's Another Day
Tomorrow [b]rings tomorrow, s[tr]ings today
Across life's pillow-billow board, day, night,
Karmic sable, ivory insight.
Each must life's lyrics swing his/her own way.
Time's menace - trick oasis sent to play
Its cards to chaos compensate or right.
Master dream wave patterns, second sight.
Enjoy life’s game untamed, don’t, blind, obey,
Or rate Fate's twists disturbing serpent's sway.
Filter 'impossibility' - hope's light shines bright
Fight boredom and monototny as trite.
Nature teaches: overreach past spray.
Only open searching springs release,
Will Cause, Effect, combine, fine tune, find peace...
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Time To Tinker 'Roun'!
Summah 's nice, wif sun a-shinin',
Spring is good wif greens and grass,
An' dey 's some t'ings nice 'bout wintah,
Dough hit brings de freezin' blas;
But de time dat is de fines',
Whethah fiel's is green er brown,
Is w'en de rain 's a-po'in'
An' dey 's time to tinker 'roun.
Den you men's de mule's ol' ha'ness,
An' you men's de broken chair.
Hummin' all de time you 's wo'kin'
Some ol' common kind o' air.
Evah now an' then you looks out,
Tryin' mighty ha'd to frown,
But you cain't, you 's glad hit 's rainin',
An' dey 's time to tinker 'roun'.
Oh, you 'ten's lak you so anxious
Evah time it so't o' stops.
W'en hit goes on, den you reckon
Dat de wet 'll he'p de crops.
But hit ain't de crops you 's aftah;
You knows w'en de rain comes down
Dat's hit's too wet out fu' wo'kin',
An' dey 's time to tinker roun'.
Oh, dey 's fun inside de co'n-crib.
An' dey 's laffin' at de ba'n;
An' dey 's allus some one jokin',
Er some one to tell a ya'n.
Dah 's a quiet in yo' cabin,
Only fu' de rain's sof soun';
So you 's mighty blessed happy
W'en dey 's time to tinker 'roun'!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Joggin' Erlong
De da'kest hour, dey allus say,
Is des' befo' de dawn,
But it's moughty ha'd a-waitin'
W'ere de night goes frownin' on;
An' it's moughty ha'd a-hopin'
W'en de clouds is big an' black,
An' all de t'ings you 's waited fu'
Has failed, er gone to wrack--
But des' keep on a-joggin' wid a little bit o' song,
De mo'n is allus brightah w'en de night's been long.
Dey 's lots o' knocks you 's got to tek
Befo' yo' journey 's done,
An' dey 's times w'en you 'll be wishin'
Dat de weary race was run;
W'en you want to give up tryin'
An' des' float erpon de wave,
W'en you don't feel no mo' sorrer
Ez you t'ink erbout de grave--
Den, des' keep on a-joggin' wid a little bit o' song,
De mo'n is allus brightah w'en de night's been long.
De whup-lash sting a good deal mo'
De back hit 's knowed befo',
An' de burden 's allus heavies'
Whaih hits weight has made a so';
Dey is times w'en tribulation
Seems to git de uppah han'
An' to whip de weary trav'lah
'Twell he ain't got stren'th to stan'--
But des' keep on a-joggin' wid a little bit o' song,
De mo'n is allus brightah w'en de night's been long.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Ve Haf Vays...
'Why ith there thalt in the thea, ' he thaid,
'Why are there thtars in the thky?
Why hath an elephant got two tailth,
Why if he hath, haven't I? '
'Why hath a buth got four big wheelth,
Why hath a bike got two,
Why are you looking at me like that,
Like a monkey chained up in a thoo? '
'Why do you conthtantly thake your head
Whenever I'm athking you why?
Why do you thtutter and turn quite red
And anthwer me with a big thigh? '
'Thurely my Englith ith thimple and thtraight,
Ith eathy to underthtand,
Why are your fingerth thtuck deep in your earth
Like a man from Afghanithtan? '
'I'll anzwer zis kvezchun, I'll anzwer it vunz,
If only you vill zhuttup!
I've never heard zutch a commotion before,
Zutch zpitting and zpraying and zutch.'
'Your 'ezzez' confuze me, zey come out like 'zu'z',
Your kvezchuns, zey never mak zenze,
I try to tranzlate in zuh German I know,
But zomehow, you mak me feel denze! '
'I haf no idea vhy zhere's zalt in zuh zee,
Or vhy elevants have two tailz,
Or vhy you would vant to know zees ztupid t'ings
Ven ve Germans, vell... Ve haf our vays! '
'I vunder how Englanders vun in zuh vore
Ven zey are like you, talk like zis? '
'Thatth eathy, ' he thaid, 'we came up with a code
That replathed each 'th' with an 'S'.
David Lewis Paget
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Long Ago
De ol' time's gone, de new time's hyeah
Wid all hits fuss an' feddahs;
I done fu'got de joy an' cheah
We knowed all kin's o' weddahs,
I done fu'got each ol'-time hymn
We ust to sing in meetin';
I 's leahned de prah's, so neat an' trim,
De preachah keeps us 'peatin'.
Hang a vine by de chimney side,
An' one by de cabin do';
An' sing a song fu' de day dat died,
De day of long ergo.
My youf, hit's gone, yes, long ergo,
An' yit I ain't a-moanin';
Hit 's fu' somet'ings I ust to know
I set to-night a-honin'.
De pallet on de ol' plank flo',
De rain bar'l und' de eaves,
De live oak 'fo' de cabin do',
Whaih de night dove comes an' grieves.
Hang a vine by de chimney side,
An' one by de cabin do';
An' sing a song fu' de day dat died,
De day of long ergo.
I 'd lak a few ol' frien's to-night
To come an' set wid me;
An' let me feel dat ol' delight
I ust to in dey glee.
But hyeah we is, my pipe an' me,
Wid no one else erbout;
We bofe is choked ez choked kin be,
An' bofe 'll soon go out.
Hang a vine by de chimney side,
An' one by de cabin do';
An' sing a song fu' de day dat died,
De day of long ergo.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Faith
I'S a-gittin' weary of de way dat people do,
De folks dat's got dey 'ligion in dey fiahplace an' flue;
Dey's allus somep'n comin' so de spit'll have to turn,
An' hit tain't no p'oposition fu' to mek de hickory bu'n.
Ef de sweet pertater fails us an' de go'geous yallah yam,
We kin tek a bit o' comfo't f'om ouah sto' o' summah jam.
W'en de snow hit git to flyin', dat's de Mastah's own desiah,
De Lawd'll run de wintah an' yo' mammy'll run de fiah.
I ain' skeered because de win' hit staht to rain and blow,
I ain't bothahed w'en he come er rattlin' at de do',
Let him taih hisse'f an' shout, let him blow an' bawl,
Dat's de time de branches shek an' bresh-wood 'mence to fall.
W'en de sto'm er railin' an' de shettahs blowin' 'bout,
Dat de time de fiah-place crack hits welcome out.
Tain' my livin' business fu' to trouble ner enquiah
De Lawd'll min' de wintah an' my mammy'll min' de fiah.
Ash-cake allus gits ez brown w'en February's hyeah
Ez it does in bakin' any othah time o' yeah.
De bacon smell ez callin'-like, de kittle rock an' sing,
De same way in de wintah dat dey do it in de spring;
Dey ain't no use in mopin' 'round an' lookin' mad an' glum
Erbout de wintah season, fu' hit's des plumb boun' to come;
An' ef it comes to runnin' t'ings I's willin' to retiah,
De Lawd'll min' de wintah an' my mammy'll min' de fiah.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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At Candle-Lightin' Time
When I come in f'om de co'n-fiel' aftah wo'kin' ha'd all day,
It 's amazin' nice to fin' my suppah all erpon de way;
An' it 's nice to smell de coffee bubblin' ovah in de pot,
An' it 's fine to see de meat a-sizzlin' teasin'-lak an' hot.
But when suppah-time is ovah, an' de t'ings is cleahed away;
Den de happy hours dat foller are de sweetes' of de day.
When my co'ncob pipe is sta'ted, an' de smoke is drawin' prime,
My ole 'ooman says, 'I reckon, Ike, it 's candle-lightin' time.'
Den de chillun snuggle up to me, an' all commence to call,
'Oh, say, daddy, now it 's time to mek de shadders on de wall.'
So I puts my han's togethah--evah daddy knows de way,--
An' de chillun snuggle closer roun' ez I begin to say:--
'Fus' thing, hyeah come Mistah Rabbit; don' you see him wo'k his
eahs?
Huh, uh! dis mus' be a donkey,--look, how innercent he 'pears!
Dah 's de ole black swan a-swimmin'--ain't she got a' awful neck?
Who 's dis feller dat 's a-comin'? Why, dat 's ole dog Tray, I 'spec'!'
Dat 's de way I run on, tryin' fu' to please 'em all I can;
Den I hollahs, 'Now be keerful--dis hyeah las' 's de buga-man!'
An' dey runs an' hides dey faces; dey ain't skeered--dey 's lettin' on:
But de play ain't raaly ovah twell dat buga-man is gone.
So I jes' teks up my banjo, an' I plays a little chune,
An' you see dem haids come peepin' out to listen mighty soon.
Den my wife says, 'Sich a pappy fu' to give you sich a fright!
Jes, you go to baid, an' leave him: say yo' prayers an' say good-night.'
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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