I Speak of the City – Page 6

I Speak of the City: Helene Johnson

[it feels like i could post harlem poems all day long but this particular sonnet captures so much. the first line jumping right out at you and then the switch of viewpoints from line to line mimicking the movement of crossing from avenue to avenue. i can imagine the speaker as an active onlooker, measuring the pedestrian walking through 125th street, stride for stride, while also taking into account the perception of onlookers. this ability to capture the pace and bustle of crowded sidewalk streets in meter and rhyme is a beautiful use of the petrarchan sonnet.]

Sonnet to a Negro in Harlem

You are disdainful and magnificentâ€”
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 despiseâ€”
Your shoulders towering high above the throng,
Your head thrown back in rich, barbaric song,
Palm trees and mangoes 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.

I Speak of the City: Common with the Last Poets

if you want the made-for-tv version of the video (with kanye west doing the hook) you can view itÂ hereÂ but iâ€™m feeling this live version withÂ umar bin hassanÂ ofÂ the last poets.

the lines from the last poets are posted below.

The Corner

We congregated, we overstated,
We underrated, we educated,
The corner was our time when times stood still
And gators and snake-skins and pink and yellow
And colored blue profiles glorifying

The corner was our magic, our music, our politics
Fires raised as tribal dancers and
war cries broke out on different corners
Power to the people, Black power, Black is beautiful

The corner was our Rock of Gibraltar, our Stonehenge
Our Taj Mahal, our monument,
Our testimonial to freedom, to peace and to love
Down on the corner

Â© The Last Poets from Common’s “The Corner”

I Speak of the City: Nancy MorejÃ³n

Havana Harbor

Masons, cart drivers and occasional fisherman
are walking in the sunlight
along Havana’s shore
the blue and unaccustomed sea already covers the bare wall
little Gabriel squeezes a mango

far away
a rum drinker kills himself
with a poised knife

far away
a boat sets out to pierce
the center of the sky

there ruddy-faced men keep walking,
carrying black asphalt
on their backs
while the sea remains unaccustomed and blue

I Speak of the City: Bob Kaufman

[AS USUAL]

As usual
     the usual axe
          falls on the usual neck
             in the usual place
                 at the usual time
as usual.

I Speak of the (Nation): Walt Whitman

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Originally uploaded by Tom Andrews

AMERICA does not repel the past or what it has produced under its forms or amid other politics or the idea of castes or the old religions â€¦ accepts the lesson with calmness â€¦ is not so impatient as has been supposed that the slough still sticks to opinions and manners and literature while the life which served its requirements has passed into the new life of the new forms â€¦ perceives that the corpse is slowly borne from the eating and sleeping rooms of the house â€¦ perceives that it waits a little while in the door â€¦ that it was fittest for its days â€¦ that its action has descended to the stalwart and well shaped heir who approaches â€¦ and that he shall be fittest for his days.

— from Walt Whitman’s Introduction to Leaves of Grass