While browsing the many aisles of used books at a library book sale, I came across a gem; it was a book of African American Poetry titled, “American Negro Poetry, with an introduction by Arna Bontemps.” I felt as if I had found the biggest diamond in the world. I began thumbing through this book and my soul opened up. I have always loved to read, but that day, I became a true lover of poetry. As I stood reading poems from this book it was as if an angel came and soothed my soul by softly and gently caressing it and whispering loving thoughts into my ear.
Oh yes, I purchased this book and although I have had this copy for over 20 years and it has survived five moves, I still feel the same way about it. The cover is missing, but not single page is missing. I can read poems by Langston Hughes, Arna Bontemp, Jean Turner, Countee Cullen, James Baldwin, and Claude McKay and the list goes on and on.
These poems were written when the American Negro was going through really hard times because of something so simple, so insignificant as the color of one’s skin. The chapter is different and the page has turned, but in some regards we are still back there, and we are not alone, the world as we know it has changed; everyone can think of something bad that has happened. Our children may think that they are living the high life with all the material things, myriad of technological advances, and fast foods; but I feel sorry for them, they will never know a world where you never have to worry about health because of time spent outside playing with friends, getting vegetables from the garden, meats from the farm, picking fresh fruits from trees. I loved plum picking, and we had pears, muscadine grapes, apples and watermelons.
Eating three meals a day, all dishes prepared from scratch, nobody purchased anything already touched by a machine, unless it was the butcher. Times were carefree and family enjoyed being together and talking with each other at the dinner table, and yes, we all ate meals together. If you were born before 1980 and remember those times please share your experiences with us.
Romaine
A Negress Speaks
Below is one of my favorite poems and it is in the above mentioned book. Enjoy it as I have over the years and continue to enjoy.
The Negro Speaks of Rivers by Langston Hughes
I've known rivers:
I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the
flow of human blood in human veins.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.
I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.
I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.
I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln
went down to New Orleans, and I’ve seen its muddy
bosom turn all golden in the sunset.
I’ve known rivers:
Ancient, dusky rivers.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
Oh yes, I purchased this book and although I have had this copy for over 20 years and it has survived five moves, I still feel the same way about it. The cover is missing, but not single page is missing. I can read poems by Langston Hughes, Arna Bontemp, Jean Turner, Countee Cullen, James Baldwin, and Claude McKay and the list goes on and on.
These poems were written when the American Negro was going through really hard times because of something so simple, so insignificant as the color of one’s skin. The chapter is different and the page has turned, but in some regards we are still back there, and we are not alone, the world as we know it has changed; everyone can think of something bad that has happened. Our children may think that they are living the high life with all the material things, myriad of technological advances, and fast foods; but I feel sorry for them, they will never know a world where you never have to worry about health because of time spent outside playing with friends, getting vegetables from the garden, meats from the farm, picking fresh fruits from trees. I loved plum picking, and we had pears, muscadine grapes, apples and watermelons.
Eating three meals a day, all dishes prepared from scratch, nobody purchased anything already touched by a machine, unless it was the butcher. Times were carefree and family enjoyed being together and talking with each other at the dinner table, and yes, we all ate meals together. If you were born before 1980 and remember those times please share your experiences with us.
Romaine
A Negress Speaks
Below is one of my favorite poems and it is in the above mentioned book. Enjoy it as I have over the years and continue to enjoy.
The Negro Speaks of Rivers by Langston Hughes
I've known rivers:
I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the
flow of human blood in human veins.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.
I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.
I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.
I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln
went down to New Orleans, and I’ve seen its muddy
bosom turn all golden in the sunset.
I’ve known rivers:
Ancient, dusky rivers.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
I remember this book - I first read it as a child!!!!! I loved this book. You are so lucky to have a copy and we are lucky to have your sharing. Thanks you!!
ReplyDeleteHi Romaine!
ReplyDeleteNice work! I recently volunteered at a middle school near my home in northern California and had the students reciting this poem. It was great. Definitely a gem, as you said. This is word well worth spreading so THANKS!
Yur Cuz, Anita
Romaine,
ReplyDeleteI remember this poem also, but how can I forget it because Mr. Sykes drilled us until we recited it with real meaning and feeling. I thank him for exposing Terrell Co. students to such rich poetry!
Keep enligtening us with your comments!
Lisa
I don't remember being grilled by Dr. Sykes, but I do remember him making me recite the 23 Psalm in 6th grade over the intercom during the Christmas holiday, I had to do it twice and every time he saw my mother after that he would comment on it. She was so proud, she would tell me about it each time she saw him.
ReplyDeleteThat is a beautiful poem, but this the first time I have every read it. I can truly relate to you on the different between kids today and us as kids. I can remember as a kid when we would play all day outside. We would go all around the neighorhood playing from house to house and our parents didn't worry because they known we was save. Any adults who may have seen us do anything wrong could strighten us in an instant without ever being disrespected. TIME HAS TRULY CHANGED.
ReplyDeleteThose truly were the good old days. I can remember us playing in my aunts old shed, we would cook greens (weeds) and cook cornbread (mud pies) and serve our guests. Simple, clean, honest fun, and you knew if couldn't get to your parents during trouble, you could go to any adult in your neighborhood for assistance because the village did raise the children.
ReplyDelete