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").

Rest In Peace

No more for you the city's thorny ways,The ugly corners of the Negro belt;The miseries and pains of these harsh daysBy you will never, never again be..

© Claude McKay

Home Thoughts

Oh something just now must be happening there!That suddenly and quiveringly here,Amid the city's noises, I must thinkOf mangoes leaning o'er the..

© Claude McKay

In Bondage

I would be wandering in distant fieldsWhere man, and bird, and beast, lives leisurely,And the old earth is kind, and ever yieldsHer goodly gifts to..

© Claude McKay

I Know My Soul

I plucked my soul out of its secret place,And held it to the mirror of my eye,To see it like a star against the sky,A twitching body quivering in..

© Claude McKay

White Houses

Your door is shut against my tightened face,And I am sharp as steel with discontent;But I possess the courage and the graceTo bear my anger proudly..

© Claude McKay

The White City

I will not toy with it nor bend an inch.Deep in the secret chambers of my heartI muse my life-long hate, and without flinchI bear it nobly as I live..

© Claude McKay

Commemoration

When first your glory shone upon my faceMy body kindled to a mighty flame,And burnt you yielding in my hot embraceUntil you swooned to love..

© Claude McKay

Heritage

Now the dead past seems vividly alive,And in this shining moment I can trace,Down through the vista of the vanished years,Your faun-like form, your..

© Claude McKay

The Tired Worker

O whisper, O my soul! The afternoonIs waning into evening, whisper soft!Peace, O my rebel heart! for soon the moonFrom out its misty veil will swing..

© Claude McKay

Adolescence

There was a time when in late afternoonThe four-o'clocks would fold up at day's closePink-white in prayer, and 'neath the floating moonI lay with..

© Claude McKay

When I Have Passed Away

When I have passed away and am forgotten,And no one living can recall my face,When under alien sod my bones lie rottenWith not a tree or stone to..

© Claude McKay

The Tropics In New York

Bananas ripe and green, and ginger-root,Cocoa in pods and alligator pears,And tangerines and mangoes and grape fruit,Fit for the highest prize at..

© Claude McKay

Alfonso, Dressing To Wait At Table

Alfonso is a handsome bronze-hued ladOf subtly-changing and surprising parts;His moods are storms that frighten and make glad,His eyes were made to..

© Claude McKay

French Leave

No servile little fear shall daunt my willThis morning. I have courage steeled to sayI will be lazy, conqueringly still,I will not lose the hours in..

© Claude McKay

Outcast

For the dim regions whence my fathers cameMy spirit, bondaged by the body, longs.Words felt, but never heard, my lips would frame;My soul would sing..

© Claude McKay

Flirtation

UPON thy purple mat thy body bareIs fine and limber like a tender tree.The motion of thy supple form is rare,Like a lithe panther lolling..

© Claude McKay

Baptism

Into the furnace let me go alone;Stay you without in terror of the heat.I will go naked in--for thus ''tis sweet--Into the weird depths of the..

© Claude McKay

A Prayer

'Mid the discordant noises of the day I hear thee calling;I stumble as I fare along Earth's way; keep me from falling.Mine eyes are open but they..

© Claude McKay

My Mother

IReg wished me to go with him to the field,I paused because I did not want to go;But in her quiet way she made me yieldReluctantly, for she was..

© Claude McKay

The Harlem Dancer

Applauding youths laughed with young prostitutesAnd watched her perfect, half-clothed body sway;Her voice was like the sound of blended flutesBlown..

© Claude McKay

The Lynching

His Spirit in smoke ascended to high heaven.His father, by the cruelest way of pain,Had bidden him to his bosom once again;The awful sin remained..

© Claude McKay

The Spanish Needle

Lovely dainty Spanish needleWith your yellow flower and white,Dew bedecked and softly sleeping,Do you think of me to-night?Shadowed by the spreading..

© Claude McKay

December, 1919

Last night I heard your voice, mother,The words you sang to meWhen I, a little barefoot boy,Knelt down against your knee.And tears gushed from my..

© Claude McKay

Absence

Your words dropped into my heart like pebbles into a pool,Rippling around my breast and leaving it melting cool.Your kisses fell sharp on my flesh..

© Claude McKay

Exhortation: Summer 1919

Through the pregnant universe rumbles life's terrific thunder,And Earth's bowels quake with terror; strange and terrible storms..

© Claude McKay