In Memoriam: I, Too, Sing America

Today is not only the first day of Black History Month, but it also Langston Hughes' birthday, one of the most prominent writers during the Harlem Renaissance. Happy birthday, Mr. Hughes, and thank you for your amazing contributions to Black art and literature. It is only fitting that I post this poem in honor of Black History Month. Enjoy!

I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.

Tomorrow,
I’ll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody’ll dare
Say to me,
“Eat in the kitchen,"
Then.

Besides,
They’ll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed—


I, too, am America.

In Memoriam: Marilyn Monroe wrote poetry, too!

Today marks the anniversary of the sudden death of Hollywood actress, Marilyn Monroe. Many of you know that I am obsessed with her! I've watched several documentaries about her and even some of her movies. I learned so much and have come to really appreciate her. She took the art of acting very seriously and did her best and beyond to perfect her work. She is truly an inspiration. When I found out that she also wrote poetry, I was beyond ecstatic. According to immortalmarilyn.com, Norman Rosten wrote: "She would often hand me a scrap of paper with something written on it & ask, 'Do you think this is poetry? Keep it & let me know.' Or she'd send a scribbled sheet in the mail asking for criticism. I would always encourage her. The poems were, in the best sense, those of an amateur; that is, they pretended to be nothing more than an outburst of feeling, with little or no knowledge of the craft. But the poet within her - & one existed - found a form for her purpose." Here is one of her many poems. Rest in Peace, Ms. Monroe.

Life-
I am of both your directions
Existing more with the cold frost
Strong as a cobweb in the wind
Hanging downward the most
Somehow remaining
those beaded rays have the colours
I've seen in paintings-ah life
they have cheated you
thinner than a cobweb's thread
sheerer than any-
but it did attach itself
and held fast in strong winds
and singed by the leaping hot fires
life-of which at singular times
I am both of your directions-
somehow I remain hanging downward 
the most
as both of your directions pull me.

In Memoriam: Dancing the Dream by Michael Jackson

                            

Five years ago today, the world lost the greatest entertainer and one of the kindest, most loving people, Michael Jackson. As many of you know, he has been my favorite artist since I was a kid. What many of you don't know is that aside from being an amazing singer, songwriter, and performer, Michael loved art. He was an artist, with both pictures and words. In honor of him, here is one of his many poems, Dancing the Dream. Rest in peace, Michael!

Consciousness expresses itself through creation. This world we live in is the dance of the creator. Dancers come and go in the twinkling of an eye but the dance lives on. On many an occasion when I'm dancing, I've felt touched by something sacred. In those moments, I've felt my spirit soar and become one with everything that exists. I become the stars and the moon. I become the lover and the beloved. I become the victor and the vanquished. I become the master and the slave. I become the singer and the song. I become the knower and the known. I keep on dancing and then, it is the eternal dance of creation. The creator and creation merge into one wholeness of joy.

I keep on dancing and dancing.......................and dancing, until there is only .................the dance.