I celebrate your eyes
because they look at me
without restraint
with friendship and love.
I celebrate your ears
They listen and allow me an opinion
that may not be yours.
I celebrate your lips
that mine could find in the darkest night
blind or feeble.
I celebrated your body
next to mine
freely and without hesitation.
But most of all
I celebrate the fates
that gave me you
and asked nothing in return.
I am a better woman because
fate let me stumble on to you.
YOU ARE THE MAN
The thoughts in my mind, the love in my soul,
There are words in my heart that are yet to be told.
I cannot describe you just as you are,
But I pray to heaven that you stay as you are.
To me you are the man and never to be compared with any other, For you stand alone in your own majestic way
and there will never be any other.
You may not believe it but to me that is true
For above all the men I would have only you.
- LaReeve Staples
I Dream a World
I dream a world where man
No other will scorn,
Where love will bless the earth
And peace its paths adorn.
I dream a world where all
Will know sweet freedom’s way.
Where greed no longer saps the soul
Nor avarice blights our day.
A world I dream where black or white,
Whatever race you be,
Will share the bounties of the earth
And every man is free,
Where wretchedness will hang its head,
And joy, like a pearl,
Attend the needs of all mankind.
Of such I dream -
Our world!
- Langston Hughes
Booker T. and W.E.B.
(Booker T. Washington and W.E.B. Du Bois)
“It seems to me,” said Booker T.,
“It shows a mighty lot of cheek
To study chemistry and Greek
When Mister Charlie needs a hand
To hoe the cotton on his land,
And when Miss Ann looks for a cook,
Why stick your nose inside a book?”
“I don’t agree,” said W.E.B.
“If I should have the drive to seek
Knowledge of chemistry or Greek,
I’ll do it. Charles and Miss can look
Another place for hand or cook.
Some men rejoice in skill of hand,
And some in cultivating land,
But there are others who maintain
The right to cultivate the brain.
“It seem to me,” said Booker T.,
“That all you folks have missed the boat
Who shout about the right to vote,
And spend vain days and sleepless nights
In uproar over civil rights,
Just keep your mouths shut, do not grouse,
But work, and save, and buy a house.”
“I don’t agree,” said W.E.B.
“For what can property avail
If dignity and justice fail?
Unless you help to make the laws,
They’ll steal your house with trumped-up clause.
A rope’s as tight, a fire as hot,
No matter how much cash you’ve got.
Speak soft, and try your little plan,
But as for me, I’ll be a man.”
“It seems to me,” said Booker T.
“I don’t agree,”
Said W.E.B.
- Dudley Randall
The Profile on the Pillow
After our fierce loving
in the brief time we found to be together,
you lay in the half light
exhausted, rich,
with your face turned sideways on the pillow,
and I traced the exquisite
line of your profile, dark against the white,
delicate and lovely as a child’s.
Perhaps
you will cease to love me,
or we may be consumed in the holocaust,
but I keep, against the ice and the fire,
the memory of your profile on the pillow.
- Dudley Randall
UNTIL TIME RUNS OUT
Before “us”
There was “you” … only “you”
And
There was “me” … only “me”
We were two divided
Now
We are “one” together
Until time runs out
Someday we’ll sleep well together
In nobody’s world
But our own
A peaceful sleep
A stomach-to-stomach
Leg over leg
Safety sleep
That wraps us in each other
Until sleep runs out
Trust me
And I’ll do good things for you
Even if to make you happy
Means to leave you to yourself
Until the music runs out
Yesterday
Did you remember
How we met?
Today
do you remember
how I taste?
Tomorrow
Will you remember
That I’ll love you
Until time runs out
When you’re gone
I need nothing, except you
There is no journey
That I care to make
Unless it’s to meet
You in the middle of
A kiss
In the middle of our bed
Then I’d stay in your arms
Until love runs out.
