Riding on the Train
Riding on the Train
I see
fences and fields
barns and bridges
stations and stores
trees other trains
horses and hills water tanks
towers
streams
old cars
old men
roofs
Raindrops crawling backwards on
the window
-- Eloise Greenfield
Riding on the Train
I see
fences and fields
barns and bridges
stations and stores
trees other trains
horses and hills water tanks
towers
streams
old cars
old men
roofs
Raindrops crawling backwards on
the window
-- Eloise Greenfield
Kitchen Table
Our puppy
chewed
its legs all white.
Its top is covered
every night
with homework,
dishes,
car key chains,
glasses,
papers,
coke can stains.
It like us
sitting round
for hours.
It’s prettiest when it holds
flowers.
-Myra Cohn Livingston
By Myself
When I’m by myself
And I close my eyes
I’m a twin
I’m a dimple in a chin
I’m a room full of toys
I’m a squeaky noise
I’m a gospel song
I’m a gong
I’m a leaf turning red
I’m a loaf of brown bread
I’m a whatever I want to be
An anything I care to be
And when I open my eyes
What I care to be
Is me
-Eloise Greenfield
By Myself
When I’m by myself
And I close my eyes
I’m a twin
I’m a dimple in a chin
I’m a room full of toys
I’m a squeaky noise
I’m a gospel song
I’m a gong
I’m a leaf turning red
I’m a loaf of brown bread
I’m a whatever I want to be
An anything I care to be
And when I open my eyes
What I care to be
Is me
-Eloise Greenfield
Autumn Leaves
Green leaves,
Yellow leaves,
Red leaves, and brown,
Falling,
Falling,
Blanketing the town.
Oak leaves,
Maple leaves,
Apple leaves, and pear,
Falling, Whispering,
“Autumn’s in the air!”
Big leaves,
Little leaves,
Pointed leaves, and round,
Falling Nestling,
Carpeting the Ground
-Unknown
Rain
mud
puddles
paths
damp robins
in
splashed
nests
flood
in the woodchuck’s
burrow
wet fur
wet feather
weather
-Lillian Moore
The dark gray clouds,
The great gray clouds,
The black rolling clouds are elephants
Going down to the sea of water.
They draw up the water in their trunks.
They march back again across the sky.
They spray the earth again with water,
And men say it is raining.
-Natalie M. Belting
The dark gray clouds,
The great gray clouds,
The black rolling clouds are elephants
Going down to the sea of water.
They draw up the water in their trunks.
They march back again across the sky.
They spray the earth again with water,
And men say it is raining.
-Natalie M. Belting
The dark gray clouds,
The great gray clouds,
The black rolling clouds are elephants
Going down to the sea of water.
They draw up the water in their trunks.
They march back again across the sky.
They spray the earth again with water,
And men say it is raining.
-Natalie M. Belting
Harlem Night Song
Come,
Let us roam the night together
Singing
I love you
Across the Harlem roof-tops
Moon is shining.
Night sky is blue
Stars are great drops
Of golden dew.
Down the street
A band is playing.
I love you.
Come,
Let us roam the night together
Singing.
-Langston Hughes
Poem
I loved my friend.
He went away from me.
There’s nothing more to say.
The poem ends.
Soft as it began –
I loved my friend.
-Langston Hughes
Poem
I loved my friend.
He went away from me.
There’s nothing more to say.
The poem ends.
Soft as it began –
I loved my friend.
-Langston Hughes
Poem
I loved my friend.
He went away from me.
There’s nothing more to say.
The poem ends.
Soft as it began –
I loved my friend.
-Langston Hughes
i live in music
is this where you live
i live here in music
m love in C# street
my friend lives on b avenue
do you live here in music
sound
falls round me like rain on other folds
saxophones wet my face
cold as winter in st. louis
hot like peppers i rub on my lips
thinking they waz lilies
i got 15 trumpets where other women got hips
& a upright bass for both sides of my heart
i walk round in a piano like somebody
else/be walkin on the eart
i live in music
line in it
wash in it
i cd even smell it
wear sound on my fingers
sound falls so fulla music
ya cd make a river where yr arm is &
hold yourself
hold yourself in a music.
-Ntozake Shange
Hoops
By Robert Burleigh
Hoops.
The game.
Feel it.
The rough roundness.
The ball like a piece
of thin long reach for you body.
The way it answers whenever you call.
The never stop back and forth flow,
like tides going in, going out.
The smooth, skaterly glide
And sudden swerve.
The sideways slip
Through a moment of narrow space.
The cool. The intro
and under and up.
The feathery fingertip roll
and soft slow drop.
Feel your throat on fire.
Feel the asphalt burning beneath your shoes.
The two-of-you rhythm.
The know-where everyone-is without having to
Look.
The watching
and waiting
to poke
and pounce.
The fox on the lurk.
The hunger.
The leap from the pack.
The out-in-the-clear
like a stallion
with wind in your face.
The bent legs tense as the missed shot swirls
and silently spins.
The hawk.
Your arm shooting up
through a thicket of arms.
The lean
and brush
and burst free.
The skittery, cat-footed dance
along the baseline.
The taste
for the rock in your hands
when it counts the most.
The weight of you
hanging from fine,
invisible threads.
The eyes.
The arc.
The no sound
sound of the ball
as it sinks through nothing but still,
pure air.
Yes.
Hoops.
The game.
I Love the Look of Words
Popcorn leaps, popping from the floor
of a hot black skillet
and into my mouth.
Black words leap,
snapping from the white
page. Rushing into my eyes. Sliding
into my brain which gobbles them the way my tongue and teeth
chomp the buttered popcorn.
When I have stopped reading,
Ideas from the words stay stuck
in my mind, like the sweet
smell of butter performing my
fingers long after the popcorn
is finished.
I love the book and the look of words
the weight of ideas that popped into my mind
I love the tracks
of new thinking in my mind.
-Maya Angelou
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