Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Free Entry

Couplet For the Soul

You are the fire that burns my soul
and I am the frost that eases your pain.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Wishes For Sons

wishes for sons

i wish them cramps.
i wish them a strange town
and the last tampon.
I wish them no 7-11.

i wish them one week early
and wearing a white skirt.
i wish them one week late.

later i wish them hot flashes
and clots like you
wouldn't believe. let the
flashes come when they
meet someone special.
let the clots come
when they want to.

let them think they have accepted
arrogance in the universe,
then bring them to gynecologists
not unlike themselves.

By: Lucille Clifton

Thelma Lucille Sayles later Lucille Clifton was born June 27, 1936, in Depew, New York. At the age of sixteen, Clifton graduated high school. She later won a scholarship to Howard University. D.C. During Clifton's college experience she met some of the people that influenced her life, and exposed her to writing. As a result, Clifton became recognized as a widely respected poet. Besides the poem, I recently talked about in my blog “Homage to My Hips,” I also love “Wishes for Sons.” I believe the word choice Clifton uses to describe the pain women endure provide great details to this poem. This can be shown in the first stanza. “i wish them cramps./i wish them a strange town/and the last tampon./I wish them no 7-11.” These first lines provide emphasis to the actions of women, while focusing on the concept of the poem. This poem to me allows men to experience the hard work it takes to be a woman through literature. The reason I picked this poem is because it allows men to understand the pain women go through and the affects it has on our body and mood.

Monday, February 22, 2010

Sonnet to a Negro in Harlem

Sonnet to A Negro In Harlem

You are disdainful and magnificent--
Your perfect body and your pompous gait,
Your dark eyes flashing solemnly with hate;
Small wonder that you are incompetent
To imitate those whom you so dispise--
Your shoulders towering high above the throng,
Your head thrown back in rich, barbaric song,
Palm trees and manoes stretched before your eyes.
Let others toil and sweat for labor's sake
And wring from grasping hands their meed of gold.
Why urge ahead your supercilious feet?
Scorn will efface each footprint that you make.
I love your laughter, arrogant and bold.
You are too splendid for this city street!

By: Helene Johnson

Helene Johnson was on born July 7, 1906, in Boston, Massachusetts to Ella Benson Johnson and George William Johnson. She was an only child, and her parents separated shortly after her birth, so she never knew her father or his family. Johnson moved to New York in 1927 and attended Columbia University’s Extension Division where she studied to become a novelist. Her writing career started in 1924, when she submitted the poem “Trees at Night” to an urban magazine. Johnson continued to write and as a result sixteen of her poems were published in numerous magazines and anthologies. This lead to Helene Johnson being considered to be one of the youngest poets’s associated with the Harlem Renaissance. To me her strongest poem is “Sonnet to a Negro in Harlem, which was published in 1927. This poem highlights the issues of what defines an African American during the Harlem Renaissance. The word she uses is genuine and creates an expression of racial pride. This poem to me symbolizes the inspirational of black people and their contributions to society.