#langstonhughes
Langston Hughes;
A poet supreme;
Asked what happens to a deferred dream.
If you work hard,
And play by the rules.
You should reap a reward;
And not suffer fools.
But the fools chose a leader
Who crushes dreams with his pen
And so the dream seems deferred;
yet again.
Dr King’s arc of justice took a hit;
The work goes on,
We refuse to quit!
Happy Black History Month!
Feb 14
Feb 14, 2026 at 6:57 AM UTC
ලෙනින් පියවර තබයි
ලෝකය වටා ....
දේශසීමාවලට නොහැක
ඔහු නවතන්නට...
නවතාලනු නොහැකිය
බැරැක්ක හෝ බැරිකේඩවලිනුත්
කටුකම්බි වැටෙන් නොහැකිය
තුවාල කෙරුම ද ඔහුට...
ලෙනින් පිය සටහන් තබයි
මිහිතලය සිසාරා
කලු, දුඹුරු සහ සුදු සියල්ලෝ
පිළිගනී ඔහු සාදරෙන්....
භාෂාව බාධක නොවේ
කිසිදා නෑසූ විරූ
අමුතු භාෂා වහරන්නෝ
පවා විශ්වාස කරති ඔහු...
ලෙනින්ගේ පිය සටහන්
ලොව වටා පැතිරෙයි
හිරු බැස යයි
කැළලක් ලෙසින්
අඳුර හා අරුණෝදය අතරින්
නැගෙනු බලව අර
රතු තරුවක්!
Feb 8, 2021
Feb 8, 2021 at 6:30 AM UTC
The instructor said,
Go home and write
a page tonight.
And let that page come out of you—
Then, it will be true.
And so I sit here, mulling over this blank page and think.
What am I to say, what am I to share? Who am I?
Maybe I should start there?
I am a female, both a woman and a girl or somewhere in between.
I have lived for 21 years and some change, though I am not the same as most my age.
I like to listen to soft melodies, and drink hot beverages.
To stay (safe) inside and happy on most days. Read something, Watch something, maybe create.
I am me. A simple soul, but at the same time not.
Let me explain, don’t worry, it won’t be a lot.
I try...I try to be what I am taught, but trying to be who they want me to be, I’m at a loss.
Because you see, It’s difficult to strive for your dreams in this era, but that is just the way the world spins.
In truth I do not know who I am. Is the me that is seen, the me I believe myself to be? Or the person I try to be? If that makes any sense?
Though, I do believe that we are who we want ourselves to be. And in the end I have decided that all I am, is who I am perceived to be by you my peers and friends.
If you haven’t noticed yet, I think too much for my own good, I lied... I have a feeling this paper will be longer than it should.
One thing about me, is that I think about space a lot, because when I think about earth....
Y’know what...I’d rather not.
I’d like to love, but what I have seen and heard makes me hesitate,
It is up to my luck, or some say fate to find someone who can help me break down this barricade.
Anyway, I have a dilemma, across the street from my window right now is the Uno’s and I have this primal urge for a sweet dessert. Though I know I should not because the idea of going outside right now turns my stomach into a knot.
But hey, that’s just another Friday.
I do not know if this paper is what it was meant to be, but it is me. So In conclusion;
What should I say? Who am I?
Uno’s dessert might literally be to die for, what should I do?
Also, It’s a bit too late but I think I should have led with
“Hello, nice to meet you!”
Dec 11, 2020
Dec 11, 2020 at 12:23 PM UTC
No
song because
These are the kind of words
That no one sings.
This is a theme
we shouldn't repeat.
What we have is
Just a passing moment
Only a short poem
I hope you never see.
No.
There's nothing beautiful about this
Nothing beautiful about sin..
But you make it look so heavenly.
Tainted so my broken heart bleeds
Symphonies in every beat.
My
Every word's a sword.
Is it suicide then
When I tattoo myself with my pen;
Write my pain into permanence.
My late nights spent stuck in bed;
Yearning for a warmth that you never send.
I watch the coming dawn from the safety
Of my covers I-I-I'm tired from a sleepless night.
Happy that None can see me cry when the sunrise greets the new days sky
And I'm not feeling right
Cause I been left alone
To face a world
unknown
But
If I called you'd answer right?
If I text you when the moon's high,
And the darkness has settled,
And my mind meddles
With the idea of you,
You'd reply right?
If
I told you I need you…
Is that too desperate?
Rhetorical question
But I understand your objections
Of who I am.
For I now know
Know why the caged bird sang...
And why he fell silent.
Aug 6, 2019
Aug 6, 2019 at 11:37 PM UTC
Good gawd O' lawd
I can't hide it.
Suppose to be doing other things.
Here she go again
Showing her face.
She packed her bags.
Left before the door could close.
Left fa' anotha man.
Lawd A mercy
Here she is again.
Showing her face.
I can't hide it lawd.
Catching the door fo' it close.
Suppose to be doing other things.
Find these old receipts.
Piece my heart here and there.
Good lawd I hid it from ma' self
She claimin' she leavin'
Come back wondering round
Showing her face.
Lawd A mercy
Left before the door could close
Left fa' anotha man
Lawd A mercy
Here she go again
Here I go again
Catching the door fo' it close.
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 5:01 PM UTC
I want the seat closest to the window.
Boat, plane, bus, passenger seat
Ma'am if you don't mind,
could you please scoot down
while I take my seat.
My feet are tired.
I have been standing on this concrete all day.
Almost sleep on my feet,
The same problems exist at the front of the bus
just as the back.
If you could see past me, you'd see.
Yet you turn your nose and grab your purse.
All I want is a seat to rest my feet.
Lay my head back and dream.
I don't want to wear your chains today.
The chains used to justify what you see on the news.
How you can't see anything past me.
How you've wrapped me in chain from shoulder to feet.
You don't try to hide your look,
I can feel the heat on the back of my neck.
How you pick and choose what you like,
There is no difference between you nor I,
Except color,
Other than gender.
You watch me from the corner of your eye while I take my seat.
There once was a time when I'd have no choice but to sit in the back.
Now that I take my seat in the front you move to the back
A look of disgust across your face.
Boat, plane, bus, passenger seat.
Ma'am if you could,
would you please scoot down
While I take my seat.
All I want is a seat beside the window without having to explain why
I want to sit this close to the window
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 4:54 PM UTC
Lord oh lord,
Lord oh lord
Between heaven & stars,
Clouds near & far
Turn down the stars
Turn down the stars
I gots ta' find my loves heart.
A light that shines bright.
Through prayer & bent knees.
Bent knees and loose shoe strings.
I look but can't find
My loves heart.
These old shoe strings
stumbling, falling
Looking up at the stars
Clouds near and far
These old loose shoe strings
These old loose shoe strings.
Lord if you can
I gots ta' find my loves heart
Jan 8, 2019
Jan 8, 2019 at 3:04 PM UTC
Put me to sleep
I says put me back to sleep
and lock the door
I got some place to be
Got someones to see.
You can't understand
You surely can't understand
I needs to dream my same dream
I needs to dream my same dream I says
This old life does me no good
My eyes, they need to be closed I says.
Finds me a woman I met sometime last night
No madder how I tell it,
You can't understand this thang I know fo' certain.
I says put me back to sleep
I says put me back to sleep
Can't you see
I got some place to be
Got someones to see
Jan 8, 2019
Jan 8, 2019 at 10:49 AM UTC
The night is dramatic
Awash in silver and black.
Without the stars
The full moon glows,
Singing to you, lullabies
To ease those skulking dreams.
Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 1:35 AM UTC
In the morning her eyes paint the cities horizon.
Stretching and yawning.
Getting dressed; Her blue tapestry.
Opening the door to her apartment
She climbs down broken stairs.
It's payday Friday.
The mail man is late again.
Opening her box closing it right back.
She considers direct deposit,
Climbing back up those old creaks in the stairs.
To a notice on the door.
Excessive noise complaint
Rent past due
May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 1:16 PM UTC
Equality
Has to be served
Gifted
'Cause it is deserved.
America is a place
To express
The emotions you face.
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 2:36 PM UTC
I dream a world where hunger-
A forgotten feeling guessed.
Where insides never rumble,
All the frigid bodies dressed.
I dream a world with Love
Tattooed across our open eyes.
With fingers locking one another
Until we’ve reached the skies.
When money keeps us warm,
As it lights the fire place.
And mouths in key of Kumbaya
While it burns without a trace.
With Hate removed from language
As we teach the boys and girls
That every color of the rainbow shines-
Of such a dream, my world.
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 7:07 PM UTC
She tells me not to talk about my life
true poets write of other things, she says
then reads a poem about her marriage, husband
I'm reminded of Sylvia Plath's struggles
how she would not have followed such advice
or else not become the icon that she is
besides, as Langston Hughes said
' No great poet should ever be afraid of being himself'
or something like ( replace that with 'herself')
& does not a life contain universal topics
that ties us all together in one universe
so all I say is write, write what you know
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 10:19 AM UTC
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 life could really be that simple?
I am twenty, confused, and clinically depressed
I went to therapy, then to inpatient, and now I’m home
to this house that I’ve known since birth,
Depression is not the only thing I feel, so it is not all of me.
But the path down this road has been long, and dark,
Going up hills and making turns, that got me lost sometimes,
But I’m starting to see the light of day,
Everything happens for a reason they say.
My journey isn’t over yet, but I’ll tell you what I’ve learned:
I’m not easy to understand, but nobody is,
at twenty, my age. But I know I am not just what
I feel and see and hear. Instead I am also what
I think, and say, and do. Aren’t we all?
The things that define me, aren’t only in my head.
They can be read, and heard, and seen,
My words spoken out loud, or written down are
The decisions I make, such as letting go, or fighting;
Telling a truth, or a lie; giving, or taking
I guess having depression doesn’t make me a good or bad person
Despite my disorder, I make ordinary choices.
So will my definition of me be alright,
Even if it means, I’m not always delighted to be here.
But I will be here
Just like you are, instructor.
You might be happy with life---
Yet you have your troubles, just as I have mine.
That’s human.
Perhaps you don’t want to be a part of some sad occasions,
Nor do I often want to be a part of them either.
But we are, and that’s life!
As I learn from my mistakes and hard times,
I guess you learn from yours—
although you’re older—and wiser—
and I have less life experience than you.
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 10:59 PM UTC