Reach Up Your Hand... and take a star.

What happens to a dream deferred?

Though you may hear me holler, And you may see me cry-- I'll be dogged, sweet baby, If you gonna see me die.

For poems are like rainbows; they escape you quickly.

How still, How strangely still The water is today, It is not good For water To be so still that way. ~ "Sea Calm

Americans of good-will, the nice decent church people, the well-meaning liberals, the good hearted souls who themselves wouldn't lynch anyone, must begin to realize that they have to be more than passively good-hearted, more than church goingly Christian, and much more than word-of-mouth in the liberalism.

I am a Negro: Black as the night is black, Black like the depths of my Africa.