All posts tagged: Robert Hayden

Creative Close-Up: Poets.org Presents 12 Poems for Black History Month

February 26 /18 Good Morning all! The last weekend of this month has passed. Before this month is out, I still have some creative works for Black History Month. Found twelve poems by African-American poets from the website poets.org. They asked twelve contemporary black poets from Tyehlmba Jess, Rowan Ricardo Phillips, to Toi Derricotte to choose one poem to read in the month of February and why. Here are those twelve poems from Gwendolyn Brooks to Langston Hughes. Credit source: poets.org     We Real Cool Gwendolyn Brooks,  1917 – 2000 THE POOL PLAYERS. SEVEN AT THE GOLDEN SHOVEL. We real cool. We Left school. We Lurk late. We Strike straight. We Sing sin. We Thin gin. We Jazz June. We Die soon. From The Bean Eaters by Gwendolyn Brooks, published by Harpers. © 1960 by Gwendolyn Brooks. Used with permission. All rights reserved.     won’t you celebrate with me Lucille Clifton, 1936 – 2010 won’t you celebrate with me what i have shaped into a kind of life? i had no model. born in babylon both nonwhite and woman what …

Black History Feature: Robert Hayden’s The Ballad of Nat Turner

February 21, 2015 Hello again….Today’s Black History Feature is The Ballad of Nat Turner by Robert Hayden. Enjoy the rest of your weekend, be blessed. image courtesy of bahaiteachings.org The Ballad of Nat Turner BY ROBERT HAYDEN Then fled, O brethren, the wicked juba        and wandered wandered far from curfew joys in the Dismal’s night.        Fool of St. Elmo’s fire In scary night I wandered, praying,        Lord God my harshener, speak to me now or let me die;        speak, Lord, to this mourner. And came at length to livid trees        where Ibo warriors hung shadowless, turning in wind        that moaned like Africa, Their belltongue bodies dead, their eyes        alive with the anger deep in my own heart. Is this the sign,        the sign forepromised me? The spirits vanished. Afraid and lonely        I wandered on in blackness. Speak to me now or let me die.        Die, whispered the blackness. And wild things gasped and scuffled in        the night; seething shapes of evil frolicked upon the …