Harlem Renaissance
he passes me a poem a love
song by Langston Hughes and
in black, the gist of our emotions so
dexteriously woven over a glossy page
snow white, the sheen of a riveting jazz
filtering from a luminuous Harlem club on
to a young heart so entertwined in romance,
all it takes is a pair of warm and reassuring hands
to make this outing at Harlem a night to cherish
and remember, this cold autumn night where
a black boy too saunters by and lavishes us
with a scintillating syncopated jazz matchings
all his own....Obama make a difference, make
a difference to this great American land
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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 busses,
Taxis, subways,
And for your love song tone their rumble down.
Take Harlem's heartbeat,
Make 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.
poem by Langston Hughes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Night Funeral in Harlem
Night funeral
In Harlem:
Where did they get
Them two fine cars?
Insurance man, he did not pay--
His insurance lapsed the other day--
Yet they got a satin box
for his head to lay.
Night funeral
In Harlem:
Who was it sent
That wreath of flowers?
Them flowers came
from that poor boy's friends--
They'll want flowers, too,
When they meet their ends.
Night funeral
in Harlem:
Who preached that
Black boy to his grave?
Old preacher man
Preached that boy away--
Charged Five Dollars
His girl friend had to pay.
Night funeral
In Harlem:
When it was all over
And the lid shut on his head
and the organ had done played
and the last prayers been said
and six pallbearers
Carried him out for dead
And off down Lenox Avenue
That long black hearse done sped,
The street light
At his corner
Shined just like a tear--
That boy that they was mournin'
Was so dear, so dear
To them folks that brought the flowers,
To that girl who paid the preacher man--
It was all their tears that made
That poor boy's
Funeral grand.
Night funeral
In Harlem.
poem by Langston Hughes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Theme for English B
The instructor said,
Go home and write
a page tonight.
And let that page come out of you--
Then, it will be true.
I wonder if it's that simple?
I am twenty-two, colored, born in Winston-Salem.
I went to school there, then Durham, then here
to this college on the hill above Harlem.
I am the only colored student in my class.
The steps from the hill lead down into Harlem,
through a park, then I cross St. Nicholas,
Eighth Avenue, Seventh, and I come to the Y,
the Harlem Branch Y, where I take the elevator
up to my room, sit down, and write this page:
It's not easy to know what is true for you or me
at twenty-two, my age. But I guess I'm what
I feel and see and hear, Harlem, I hear you:
hear you, hear me--we two--you, me, talk on this page.
(I hear New York, too.) Me--who?
Well, I like to eat, sleep, drink, and be in love.
I like to work, read, learn, and understand life.
I like a pipe for a Christmas present,
or records--Bessie, bop, or Bach.
I guess being colored doesn't make me not like
the same things other folks like who are other races.
So will my page be colored that I write?
Being me, it will not be white.
But it will be
a part of you, instructor.
You are white--
yet a part of me, as I am a part of you.
That's American.
Sometimes perhaps you don't want to be a part of me.
Nor do I often want to be a part of you.
But we are, that's true!
As I learn from you,
I guess you learn from me--
although you're older--and white--
and somewhat more free.
This is my page for English B.
poem by Langston Hughes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Young American
They pulled in just behind the fridge
He lays her down, he frowns
"Gee my life's a funny thing, am I still too young?"
He kissed her then and there
She took his ring, took his babies
It took him minutes, took her nowhere
Heaven knows, she'd have taken anything, but
All night
She wants the young American
Young American, young American, she wants the young American
All right
She wants the young American
Scanning life through the picture windows
She finds the slinky vagabond
He coughs as he passes her Ford Mustang, but
Heaven forbid, she'll take anything
But the freak, and his type, all for nothing
He misses a step and cuts his hand, but
Showing nothing, he swoops like a song
She cries "Where have all Papa's heroes gone?"
All night
She wants the young American
Young American, young American, she wants the young American
All right
She wants the young American
All the way from Washington
Her bread-winner begs off the bathroom floor
"We live for just these twenty years
Do we have to die for the fifty more?"
All night
He wants the young American
Young American, young American, he wants the young American
All right
He wants the young American
Do you remember, your President Nixon?
Do you remember, the bills you have to pay
Or even yesterday
Have you been an un-American?
Just you and your idol singing falsetto 'bout
Leather, leather everywhere, and
Not a myth left from the ghetto
Well, well, well, would you carry a razor
In case, just in case of depression
Sit on your hands on a bus of survivors
Blushing at all the afro-Sheilas
Ain't that close to love?
Well, ain't that poster love?
Well, it ain't that Barbie doll
Her heart's been broken just like you have
And
All night
You want the young American
Young American, young American, you want the young American
All right
You want the young American
You ain't a pimp and you ain't a hustler
A pimp's got a Cadi and a lady got a Chrysler
Black's got respect, and white's got his soul train
Mama's got cramps, and look at your hands ache
I heard the news today, oh boy
I got a suite and you got defeat
Ain't there a man you can say no more?
And, ain't there a woman I can sock on the jaw?
And, ain't there a child I can hold without judging?
Ain't there a pen that will write before they die?
Ain't you proud that you've still got faces?
Ain't there one damn song that can make me
break down and cry?
All night
I want the young American
Young American, young American, I want the young American
All right
I want the young American
Young American
Young American, young American, I want the young American
(I want with you, I want with you want)
All right
(You want it, I want you you, you want I, I want you want)
Young American, young American, I want the young American (I want to want, to want, to want , to want I, I want you)
All right
(Lord I wanted the young american)
(young american)
Young American, Young American
I want the young American
Mmmmmm mmm
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Harlem Woman
Written by orbison/melson
The woman is out on her own.
Walking the streets, sad and alone.
Yes she sells herself for nickles and dimes.
These are hard times for a harlem woman.
Harlem woman.
Yes you work at night.i have held you tight.
But youre not aware of how much I care.
No you cant see your babys been hungry and cold.
So long nights through, go on and do what you must do,
I love you.i love you harlem woman.
Harlem woman.
Sometimes I cry, but Ill get by till your mine alone.
So carry on to other arms,tender but strong.
Till you belong to me
Harlem woman hang on.
Ill take you away.
Someday Ill set you free to be with only me.
Till then Ill know,...
Lord knows, Ill know
They can buy the body
But not the soul of my harlem woman
Harlem woman, harlem woman
Hang on
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What is the difference between....?
What is the difference between black and white?
What is the difference between day and night?
What is the difference between love and hate?
What is the difference between a woman and a mate?
The answers seem to be so easy
as the difference between to be free and to be busy.
But! Can you tell me the difference between a lie and a truth?
Can you tell me the difference between old age and youth?
Will you tell me the difference between a grant and a sob?
If you don’t know this difference you can flop.
I would like to know the difference between wrong and right,
I would like to know the difference between a war and a fight.
If you know the answers please, write.
It will be interesting to know your opinion,
And may be I will find it to be brilliant.
Larisa R (Odessa, Ukraine)
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Young Americans
They pulled in just behind the fridge
He lays her down, he frowns
"gee my life's a funny thing, am i still too young?"
He kissed her then and there
She took his ring, took his babies
It took him minutes, took her nowhere
Heaven knows, she'd have taken anything, but
Chorus (he)
All night
She wants the young american
Young american, young american, she wants the young american
All right
She wants the young american
Scanning life through the picture window
She finds the slinky vagabond
He coughs as he passes her ford mustang, but
Heaven forbid, she'll take anything
But the freak, and his type, all for nothing
He misses a step and cuts his hand, but
Showing nothing, he swoops like a song
She cries "where have all papa's heroes gone?"
Chorus (she)
All the way from washington
Her bread-winner begs off the bathroom floor
"we live for just these twenty years
Do we have to die for the fifty more?"
Chorus (he)
All night
He wants the young american
Young american, young american, he wants the young american
All right
He wants the young american
Do you remember, your president clinton?
Do you remember, bill, you have to pay
Or even yesterday?
Have you have been an un-american?
Just you and your idol singing falsetto 'bout
Leather, leather everywhere, and
Not a myth left from the ghetto
Well, well, well, would you carry a razor
In case, just in case of depression?
Sit on your hands on a bus of survivors
Blushing at all the afro-sheilas
Ain't that close to love?
Well, ain't that poster love?
Well, it ain't that barbie doll
Her heart's been broken just like you have
Chorus (you)
All night
You want the young american
Young american, young american, you want the young american
All right
You want the young american
You ain't a pimp and you ain't a hustler
A pimp's got a cadi and a lady got a chrysler
Black's got respect, and white's got his soul train
Mama's got cramps, and look at your hands ache
(i heard the news today, oh boy)
I got a suite and you got defeat
Ain't there a man you can say no more?
And, ain't there a woman i can sock on the jaw?
And, ain't there a child i can hold without judging?
Ain't there a pen that will write before they die?
Ain't you proud that you've still got faces?
Ain't there one damn song that can make me
Break down and cry?
Chorus (i) (repeat 3 times)
All night
I want the young american
Young american, young american, i want the young american
All right
I want the young american
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spanish Harlem
There is a rose in spanish harlem
A rose that grows in spanish harlem
Its never seen the sun
It only comes up when the moon is on the run
And all the stars are leaving
Well, it grows right in the street
Up between the concrete
But soft and sweet, and (breathing? ? )
There is a rose in spanish harlem
A rose that grows in spanish harlem
Oh, with eyes as black as coal
That reach down in my soul
And start a fire I cant control
I beg your pardon
Well, I want to pick that rose
And watch her as she grows
In my garden
There is a rose in spanish harlem
There is a rose in spanish harlem
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Should This Make A Difference
Should it make a difference,
To the one accustomed to looking up...
As to who holds their head down?
To stop with a noticing of it...
Giving time to see what has been lost to be found?
Should it make a difference,
That people around talk 'to' each other...
With no eye contact that exists?
Should this make a difference,
To one who has already experienced this?
Should any of this make a difference,
To one who realizes their movements are not restricted...
On a top ten list of prioritized accomplishments,
Sought to do...
Since...
No one is aware of the persistence it takes,
To resist being disrespected with an accepted disregard.
Should this make a difference,
To one who has chosen to gaze at stars...
With dreams and wishes?
No.
The difference that is,
Has been decided and made.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Indifference / Alive
I will light the match this mornin' so I won't be alone
Watch as she lies silent for soon that will be gone
Oh I will stand arms outstretched pretend I'm free to roam
I will make my way through one more day in hell
How much difference does it make
How much difference does it make
I will hold the candle till it burns up my arm
Oh I'll keep takin' punches ha-ha until their will grows tired
Oh I will stare the sun down until my eyes go blind
Hey I won't change direction and I won't change my mind
How much difference does it make yea
How much difference does it make how much difference
I'll swallow poison until I grow immune
I will scream my lungs out till it fills this room
How much difference (x2)
How much difference does it make yea
How much difference does it make
song performed by by Pearl Jam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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House Of Jazz
(young - young)
Humdinger
Bell ringer
Got a nasty stinger
To slow you down
Mud slinger
Gold digger
Who point the finger
And do you down
Kickin and a fightin on a tv show
Lightin blindin in the middle of the road
Are you comin in
Are you comin in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz, yes
Ball stripper
Big tipper
Got a slap n tickler
To make you growl
A spitin and bitin on a tv show
Tightenin frightenin givin out a load
Are you comin in
Are you comin in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Are you comin in
Come on in
Are you comin in
Are you comin in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Are you comin in
Are you comin in
I said into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
The house of jazz
2000, j. albert & son, pty.
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Young Americans
They pulled in just behind the fridge
He lays her down, he frowns
Gee my lifes a funny thing, am I still too young?
He kissed her then and there
She took his ring, took his babies
It took him minutes, took her nowhere
Heaven knows, shed have taken anything, but
All night
She wants the young american
Young american, young american, she wants the young american
All right
She wants the young american
Scanning life through the picture windows
She finds the slinky vagabond
He coughs as he passes her ford mustang, but
Heaven forbid, shell take anything
But the freak, and his type, all for nothing
He misses a step and cuts his hand, but
Showing nothing, he swoops like a song
She cries where have all papas heroes gone?
All night
She wants the young american
Young american, young american, she wants the young american
All right
She wants the young american
All the way from washington
Her bread-winner begs off the bathroom floor
We live for just these twenty years
Do we have to die for the fifty more?
All night
He wants the young american
Young american, young american, he wants the young american
All right
He wants the young american
Do you remember, your president nixon?
Do you remember, the bills you have to pay
Or even yesterday
Have you been an un-american?
Just you and your idol singing falsetto bout
Leather, leather everywhere, and
Not a myth left from the ghetto
Well, well, well, would you carry a razor
In case, just in case of depression
Sit on your hands on a bus of survivors
Blushing at all the afro-sheilas
Aint that close to love?
Well, aint that poster love?
Well, it aint that barbie doll
Her hearts been broken just like you have
And
All night
You want the young american
Young american, young american, you want the young american
All right
You want the young american
You aint a pimp and you aint a hustler
A pimps got a cadi and a lady got a chrysler
Blacks got respect, and whites got his soul train
Mamas got cramps, and look at your hands ache
I heard the news today, oh boy
I got a suite and you got defeat
Aint there a man you can say no more?
And, aint there a woman I can sock on the jaw?
And, aint there a child I can hold without judging?
Aint there a pen that will write before they die?
Aint you proud that youve still got faces?
Aint there one damn song that can make me
Break down and cry?
All night
I want the young american
Young american, young american, I want the young american
All right
I want the young american
Young american
Young american, young american, I want the young american
(I want with you, I want with you want)
All right
(you want it, I want you you, you want i, I want you want)
Young american, young american, I want the young american (I want to want, to want, to want , to want i, I want you)
All right
(lord I wanted the young american)
(young american)
Young american, young american
I want the young american
Mmmmmm mmm
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Blues, The Jazz, The City
The city is jazz under neon lights
The jazz is blues stoned
And the city never forgets this
Like the heart never forgets to pulse
And the stars never forget to shine in the night
But it takes jazz to move it, to move it all
So the jazz is the beat that always burns
So the heavens continue to shine on and shine all
The jazz soothes the souls of the children
Though the city is old, the jazz is young
Thus the jazz, fast and heavy, radiates the city
She returns her to her ember glow in night
The city is high on the hill and low in the valley
She is the heart, the blessed nectar, the blossom shower
The jazz glows in prosperous tombs
She serves the crashing wave of the monsoon, to the city's bay, to the ancient harbor, across bold rivers, to lakes nestled in the safety of moors and battlefields, and sings to the forest and soaks the timber and every reborn city is cloaked in the fingertip of jazz
Since jazz destroys and creates, it is the fire, and so the smoke rises higher
Hark the newborn guff of jazz
The baptized funeral pyre
Hench jazz is the gospel, the good news
She returns though, always to the blues
Love the blue lady, her old cracked voice
The blues, the jazz, and the lady unite
To the bravery of her song she sang to the evil eyes of the Kodak dragon whose hair in the hiding bear under masks of hatred
The jealous lair, the haunt of despair
And jazz shines on, they can't stop her
The lady of the city sings to the farm
No choir can match the timbre of the lady
My first love,
She shines on for me when I am sad, through me in melancholy
And we join in joy, the lady sees all, feels all, and sings on
Rambunctious be the lady, the city, the blues
Who beat for hearts at night
From the slide trombone, the tut-tut-tut of the mighty snare
The brass milieu for brighter days and neon lights
The whimper
The whimper of the stand-up bass, who carries the beat, the jazz, the blues, the night
In your arms I am safe and sound, the sounds who hold me tight
And above all, upon the highest peak, the great black giants, the black hands and breath of jazz, food for the soul and fodder, who inspire all in the world
But the two giants upon the highest mountain compete for the night and walk away friends as we do
They too are the shine, the noble sheen, and while the lady sings, they dance, the boozers hound and prance, the lovers kneel and romance and the giants push the pebbles from beneath their mountain feet
Who knows how many souls the jazz saved, but I know she saved mine
The giants, trumpet and sax, and even the sweet other of New Orleans, a trumpet and voice, a demigod, and every other band and face and time
So the jazz soothed them too to be saved, as they played, we all played, and jazz shines for the night
And Jack drew the map in sketches, he saw the jazz, but the jazz sees all, and saves all who smile upon her because she loves all, but can only save those who hear her call because she is human
She is so human
She is the city of light of darkest night
But most of all I think on the lady
The lady is the city, sitting pretty, in a jam
The jam
The beat
The jazz
The lady
The city
The blues
Pushed forward by strongest beat, what a feat, and the children eat their meat
And meet those they should, the jazz rumbles on, singing the song, nothing wrong
And the lady smiles always because she is the beat of my heart, my soul
She blooms my flower
She waves my sound
She smiles
Smiles
The lady
With her cracked somber voice of the blues, the city, and jazz
She the great bell, cracked, she chimes for liberty, she chimes for freedom of the endless soul she saves
And the giants steamroll her, the angel ember young
And she flies in heaven where she belongs, singing for the city, the blues, the jazz
And love
poem by Jay Bradley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spanish Harlem
There is a rose in Spanish Harlem
A red rose up in Spanish Harlem
It is a special one, it's never seen the sun
It only comes out when the moon is on the run And all the stars are gleaming
It's growing in the street right up through the concrete
But soft and sweet and dreamin'
There is a rose in Spanish Harlem
A red rose up in Spanish Harlem
With eyes as black as coal that look down in my soul
And starts a fire there and then I lose control I have to beg your pardon
I'm going to pick that rose and watch her as she grows in my garden
I'm going to pick that rose and watch her as she grows in my garden
There is a rose in Spanish Harlem
There is a rose in Spanish Harlem
song performed by by Tom Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Song
well i hate to sing this song
this song written in black on white
the black words so prominent on the white sheet
in the proclamation of democracy
well, is there at all democracy in Whitman's world or to be exact
white men's world? Whitman's song of a great land and love of comrades how deceptive, unloving
oh what a black discovery to know that poets
too could be blinded to the real state of the world
racism, injustice; the loads of chained souls that arrived to greet
the Statue of Liberty, epitome of world freedom
in actuality always chained, mocked in black and white
oh the repair of the Statue a hundred years later
the main desire to whitewash it, whiten it
the last thing the statue should turn is black
this great land, how i wish the vision of liberty
would be viewed in the the Chinese principle of Ying and Yang
an equilibrium of black and white contributing to
a wholesome mind, body, spirit
in the plain of the wild i i cry out a justice song
day and night, of white light that brightens the dark night
and white stars that coujld only glitter sparkle like diamonds
in the darkness of the night
inspired by
A Song
COME, I will make the continent indissoluble;
I will make the most splendid race the sun ever yet shone upon;
I will make divine magnetic lands,
With the love of comrades,
With the life-long love of comrades.
I will plant companionship thick as trees along all the rivers of
America, and along the shores of the great lakes, and all over
the prairies;
I will make inseparable cities, with their arms about each other's
necks;
By the love of comrades,
By the manly love of comrades.
For you these, from me, O Democracy, to serve you, ma femme! 10
For you! for you, I am trilling these songs,
In the love of comrades,
In the high-towering love of comrades.
Walt Whitman
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Obama The Huseyin
OBAMA
for the first time in history era
the descendant from kenya
has come to power
all over the world
there is trauma
el kaide
taliban
terror organisations
in pakistan
in afghanistan
in ı rak
and in iran
border with nuclear russia
obama has come to power
all over the world
war...war....war
thge problems are sore...sore...sore
never changed a little bit more...more...more
how will he look at
how will he treat
these trauma
with his black eyes
or with his white eyes
obama has come to power
in hand
economic problems piling
ahead
no where to shelter
fopr the mortgage struck owners
and for elder and youngers
excluded from asylums and hospitals
or living on streets
collecting garbage to eat
obama has come to power
how will he handle
the wound and the problems
with his black hand
with his left hand
or with his right hand
seems no sign evident to end
obaqma has come to power
it is with no ease
difficult...difficult...difficult
all the nations
all the people
to please sooner
obama has come to power
even ufos watched with wonder
even the poet
sir langston hughes
wonders ande celebrates eagerly from heaven
over and over
for his dreams have fulfilled
obama has come to power
then nothing for you to do
but wait and see
how he can
with black eyes
or with white eyes
with right hands
with left hands
with black hands
or with white hands
he asked help from god
no one knows
whether he prays
with his muslim heart
or with his christian heart
it is between him and god
no one guesses
how will he use
hüseyin and obama....his names
but what a pity
we first saw him
in a banking advertisement
on a foreign tv
obama has come to power
see if he can
clasp and fix everthing
and clap them together
poem by Metin Sahin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Make A Difference!
take your finger from the trigger,
lay down your gun...
you have a chance to make a difference....
make the right choice!
lower your hand, soften your voice,
let go of your anger...
you have a chance to make a difference...
make the right choice!
put down your checkbook, close the register,
do something you really feel....
you have a chance to make a difference....
make the right choice!
throw out your pill bottle and your pipe,
stand up and face life....
you have a chance to make a difference...
make the right choice!
turn off your tv and your computer,
get involved with someone in need....
you have a chance to make a difference....
make the right choice!
lay down your judgements and your pride,
see people as just people....
you have a chance to make a difference....
make the right choice!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Deceased
Harlem
Sent him home
in a long box-
Too dead
To know why:
The licker
Was lye.
poem by Langston Hughes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It Makes No Difference
You made a promise , so did i
Youd never leave me alone
You wake me up in the middle of the night
Take what you what and youre gone
Tell me a reason for what I am
Ill never win this game you play
You wake me up in the middle of a dream
You make it over , thats ok
It takes a million years for us to
Understand it all
All the love you need is why
It makes no difference now
There is no other you
Id rather die without you
Then let you go
My seasons in the sun
So many moments wasted
My love is living for you
And you should know
(break)
You make my world a better place
But I dont see you around , round , round
Could there be others Im replacing
No more love to be found
It takes a million years to make
You understand your heart
Let my love lay where it falls
It makes no difference now
There is no other you
Id rather die without you
Then let you go
My seasons in the sun
So many moments wasted
My love is living for you
And you should know
(break)
It makes no difference now
It makes no difference now
It makes no difference now
It makes no difference now
There is no other you
Id rather die without you
Then let you go
My seasons in the sun
So many moments wasted
My love is living for you
And you should know
(repeat last verse and fade out )
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Speeeeeech!
does it make difference you speak in front of many people or alone
does it make difference you speech in historic place or in your toilet
does it make difference you are charismatic leader or unknown beggar from streetside
it makes difference you speak to clash conflict or for better world
it makes difference you speech bonded by past or to move forward
it makes difference you depend by fact or just soap service
does it make difference you read from text or speak fluently
does it make difference you speech in busy market or deserted mountain
does it make difference you write words yourself or scrap it from books and paper
it makes difference everybody exitedly listens or sleeps peacefully on their seats
it makes difference you have freedom to speak or prisoned by intimidation
it makes difference it gives effect or just a long boring speech
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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