Section: «Poems»
Verse (ancient Greek ὁ στίχος — row, structure), a term in versification used in several meanings:
artistic speech organized by division into rhythmically commensurate segments; poetry in the narrow sense; in particular, it implies the properties of versification of a particular tradition ("antique verse", "Akhmatova's verse", etc.);
a line of poetic text organized according to a certain rhythmic pattern ("My uncle of the most honest rules").
Dinner Guest: Me
I know I amThe Negro ProblemBeing wined and dined,Answering the usual questionsThat come to white mindWhich seeks demurelyTo Probe in polite wayThe..
© Langston Hughes
My People
The night is beautiful,So the faces of my people.The stars are beautiful,So the eyes of my people.Beautiful, also, is the sun.Beautiful, also, are..
© Langston Hughes
Cultural Exchange
In the Quarter of the NegroesWhere the doors are doors of paperDust of dingy atomsBlows a scratchy sound.Amorphous jack-o'-Lanterns caperAnd the wind..
© Langston Hughes
Justice
That Justice is a blind goddessIs a thing to which we black are wise:Her bandage hides two festering soresThat once perhaps were eyes.
© Langston Hughes
Dream Variations
To fling my arms wideIn some place of the sun,To whirl and to danceTill the white day is done.Then rest at cool eveningBeneath a tall treeWhile night..
© Langston Hughes
The Dream Keeper
Bring me all of your dreams,You dreamer,Bring me all yourHeart melodiesThat I may wrap themIn a blue cloud-clothAway from the too-rough fingersOf the..
© Langston Hughes
Life Is Fine
I went down to the river,I set down on the bank.I tried to think but couldn't,So I jumped in and sank.I came up once and hollered!I came up twice and..
© Langston Hughes
Children's Rhymes
By what sendsthe white kidsI ain't sent:I know I can'tbe President.What don't bugthem white kidssure bugs me:We know everybodyain't free.Lies written..
© Langston Hughes
The Negro Mother
Children, I come back todayTo tell you a story of the long dark wayThat I had to climb, that I had to knowIn order that the race might live and..
© Langston Hughes
I, Too
I, too, sing America.I am the darker brother.They send me to eat in the kitchenWhen company comes,But I laugh,And eat well,And grow..
© Langston Hughes
Cross
My old man's a white old manAnd my old mother's black.If ever I cursed my white old manI take my curses back.If ever I cursed my black old motherAnd..
© Langston Hughes
Democracy
Democracy will not comeToday, this yearNor everThrough compromise and fear.I have as much rightAs the other fellow hasTo standOn my two feetAnd own..
© Langston Hughes
Dream Deferred
What happens to a dream deferred?Does it dry upLike a raisin in the sun?Or fester like a sore--And then run?Does it stink like rotten meat?Or crust..
© Langston Hughes
April Rain Song
Let the rain kiss youLet the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid dropsLet the rain sing you a lullabyThe rain makes still pools on the..
© Langston Hughes
Mother To Son
Well, son, I'll tell you:Life for me ain't been no crystal stair.It's had tacks in it,And splinters,And boards torn up,And places with no carpet on..
© Langston Hughes
As I Grew Older
It was a long time ago.I have almost forgotten my dream.But it was there then,In front of me,Bright like a sun—My dream.And then the wall rose,Rose..
© Langston Hughes
Dreams
Hold fast to dreamsFor if dreams dieLife is a broken-winged birdThat cannot fly.Hold fast to dreamsFor when dreams goLife is a barren fieldFrozen..
© Langston Hughes
Still Another Day: I
Today is that day, the day that carrieda desperate light that since has died.Don't let the squatters know:let's keep it all between us,day, between..
© Pablo Neruda
Still Another Day: XVII/Men
The truth is in the prologue. Death to the romantic fool,to the expert in solitary confinement,I'm the same as the teacher from Colombia,the rotarian..
© Pablo Neruda
Ode To Ironing
Poetry is white:it comes from water swathed in drops,it wrinkles and gathers,this planet's skin has to spread out,the sea's whiteness has to be..
© Pablo Neruda
Unity
There is something dense, united, settled in the depths,repeating its number, its identical sign.How it is noted that stones have touched time,in..
© Pablo Neruda
Ode To The Cat
The animals were imperfect,long-tailed,unfortunate in their heads.Little by little theyput themselves together,making themselves a..
© Pablo Neruda
Ode To Age
I don't believe in age.All old peoplecarryin their eyes,a child,and children,at timesobserve us with theeyes of wise ancients.Shall we measurelifein..
© Pablo Neruda