"It's me, myself and I, / And some South African wine, / On the brown leather couch that . . . " (Poetry by Margarita Chukhina)
Spring is Coming
Category: Poetry
Eventide
"The silence of the brooding night, / Enfolds me with its eerie light; / I lie upon its shadowed breast / A pilgrim, wearying for rest . . ." (Poetry by Georgia Douglas Johnson)
The Weary Blues
When Langston Hughes published his early poem, "The Weary Blues," back in 1925, he was innovating literature and language, it's said, matching poetic form to musical form, and subject. According to poet Kevin Young, "Hughes was in fact the first to write poetry in the blues form," and his 1926 collection "The Weary Blues represents the… Continue reading The Weary Blues
Tired
Fenton Johnson was born in Chicago and lived most of his life there, though he can be considered a poet of both the Harlem Renaissance and the lesser known Chicago Renaissance. He attended college at Northwestern University and the University of Chicago and later studied in New York at Columbia's School of Journalism before returning… Continue reading Tired
Let Me Not Hate
Known as a poet of the Harlem Renaissance, Georgia Douglas Johnson (1880-1966) wrote four collections of poetry: The Heart of a Woman (1918), Bronze (1922), An Autumn Love Cycle (1928), and Share My World (1962). However, she was more than a poet--she wrote plays as well as a weekly column ("Homely Philosophy")--and she did not… Continue reading Let Me Not Hate
Two Poems by Fenton Johnson
Fenton Johnson was an African American poet who wrote before and during the Harlem Renaissance of the 1920s and early 1930s. He self-published several collections of poetry, including A Little Dreaming (1913), Visions of the Dusk (1915), and Songs of the Soil (1916). His poetry is often anthologized and exhibits a range of style from… Continue reading Two Poems by Fenton Johnson
The Dreamer
On a midnight in midwinter when all but the winds were dead . . . (Poetry by Alfred Tennyson)
After Apple-Picking
My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree / Toward heaven still (A poem by Robert Frost)
Afternoon walk, mid-November
It gets dark so early these days. / And we needed to get home, / after the creek / and the climbing the hill / and . . . (Poetry by Katie Murchison Ross)
And the Leaves of the Tree will be for the Healing of the Nations
The first thing you should know: / The tree has leaves. / Leaves whose lives depart, by definition. / Evergreens have needles; palms, fronds. / But leaves fulfill their nomenclatural destiny: / Fade, wither, fall. . . . (Poetry by Jeannie Rose Barksdale)
