Jean Toomer

Jean Toomer

Jean Toomer (born Nathan Pinchback Toomer, December 26, 1894 – March 30, 1967) was an American poet and novelist commonly associated with the Harlem Renaissance, though he activelyБольше
1,001карма
Популярные
Поиск
Вид
·
#her1 мин. чтения

Her Lips Are Copper Wire

whisper of yellow globesgleaming on lamp-posts that swaylike bootleg licker drinkers in the fogand let your breath be moist against melike bright beads on yellow globestelephone the power-housethat the main wires are insulate(her words play softly...

00
Подарок
·
#the1 мин. чтения

The Lost Dancer

Spatial depths of being
The birth to death
Of feet dancing on earth of sand;
Vibrations of the dance

00
Подарок
·
#reapers1 мин. чтения

Reapers

Black reapers with the sound of steel on
Are sharpening scythes
I see them place the
In their hip-pockets as a thing that's done,

00
Подарок
·
#tell me1 мин. чтения

Tell Me

Tell me, dear beauty of the dusk,
When purple ribbons bind the hill,
Do dreams your secret wish fulfill,
Do prayers, like kernels from the

00
Подарок
·
#unsuspecting1 мин. чтения

Unsuspecting

There is a natty kind of
That slicks its thoughts,
Culls its oughts,
Trims its views,

00
Подарок
·
#certain1 мин. чтения

A Certain Man

A certain man wishes to be a
Of this earth; he also wants to beA saint and master of the being-world
Conscience cannot exist in the first:
The second cannot exist without conscience

00
Подарок
·
#harvest song3 мин. чтения

Harvest Song

I am a reaper whose muscles set at sundown
All my oats are cradled
But I am too chilled, and too fatigued to bind them
And I hunger

00
Подарок
·
#people1 мин. чтения

People

To those fixed on white,
White is white,
To those fixed on black,
It is the same,

00
Подарок
·
#for mw1 мин. чтения

For MW

There is no transcience of twilight in The beauty of your soft dusk-dimpled face, No flicker of a slender flame in space,
In crucibles, fragility crystalline
There is no fragrance of the jessamine About you, no pathos of some old place A...

00
Подарок
·
#november1 мин. чтения

November Cotton Flower

Boll-weevil's coming, and the winter's cold,
Made cotton-stalks look rusty, seasons old,
And cotton, scarce as any southern snow,
Was vanishing; the branch, so pinched and slow,

00
Подарок
·
#evening song1 мин. чтения

Evening Song

Full moon rising on the waters of my heart,
Lakes and moon and fires,
Cloine tires,
Holding her lips apart

00
Подарок
·
#Песня2 мин. чтения

Song of the Son

Pour O pour that parting soul in songO pour it in the sawdust glow of
Into the velvet pine-smoke air tonight,
And let the valley carry it along
And let the valley carry it along

00
Подарок
Показать больше
Ryfma
Ryfma - это социальная сеть для публикации книг, стихов и прозы, для общения писателей и читателей. Публикуй стихи и прозу бесплатно.