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James Mercer Langston Hughes was born in Joplin, Missouri on February 1, 1902. Langston Hughes is referred to as the Poet Laureate of the Harlem Renaissance. He is known for his insightful portrayals of black life in America from the 1920s through the 1960s. Unlike other notable black poets of the time, Langston Hughes […]
Deep inside I am dark and raging the medication keeps it from bubbling to the surface but it is there waiting to rise up and seek justice
Reading posts on Speak your Truth about living with anxiety has given me the strength to share my own struggle. Not as a means to gain sympathy but in the hopes that someone else will read this and find strength much the same way I found strength from Stephanie Neighbour’s blog. Living with anxiety, agoraphobia,
Coat of arms Coated tongue Raincoat prophylactic protects against more than rain Winter coat Hand me down coat coat of many colors Appalachian poverty turned into a Christmas Special entertainment for the masses Old coat torn coat Coat stuffed with newspapers protection against the cold on a New York sidewalk No coat Coated tongue no
The mist rises up from the river Clinging to the mountains like a quilt Velvety greens and blacks held together by threads of white The valley is waking Soon the day will begin The mist will evaporate into the rays of the sun The streets will fill with cars and commotion But for
Rage blossoms like a flower Like a red rose Blood seeping from my cuts You took everything I had Left me broken and old Hiding away in a dark room Surrounded by fear Lost and alone Death of a thousand cuts Now I bleed red rage and anger. Take heed Be forewarned Revenge will be
Shadows of yesteryear fall long upon the empty walls Reminding me of all the lives lived. If walls could talk would they give up their secrets as easily as a butterfly shedding it’s cacoon. Suitcases forbidden rendezvous loves lost passions found Desperation loneliness death What tales would they tell Would they hold our secrets close
She sits alone in her house waiting for children who never come. Alone by the window peeking through the curtains at the world outside. The world that changed and left her behind. She has no friends, only memories. At night they curl round her as ghosts keep vigil. She waits. Not knowing what she is
Loudness, danger, excitement we are drawn like moths to a flame. Unrestrained, gregarious energy drawing us near drawing us out of our solitary shell. We are drawn to that radiant energy that part we don’t possess within. We don’t see it for what it is a lack of depth and emotion their armour to hide ancient
I feel myself slipping into a depression. Should I fight it or let myself slide. I do my best writing in a depression Connected to my emotions in that melancholy way I delve deep within find the pieces of poetry that really touch the soul Is it worth the depths of despair? To find
Narrative poetry tells a story. It is usually written in metered verse and is dramatic with objectives and diverse characters. It often focuses on the pros and cons of life. Such as the great epic poems listed below. Beowulf, oldest known English poem The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer The Charge of the Light
The Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “information.” My contribution this week is a Stream of Consciousness poem. I usually spend hours and days working on a poem before I send it out into the world but today I am sending it out as it is no editing except for spelling. It is
