Additional Poems By Gwendolyn Bennett Essay Research

Extra Poems By Gwendolyn Bennett Essay, Research Paper

Song

I am weaving a vocal of Waterss,

Shaken from house, brown limbs,

Or caputs thrown back in irreverent hilarity.

My vocal has the ush sugariness

Of moist, dark lips

Where anthem maintain company

With old disregarded banjo vocals.

Abandon Tells you

That I sing the bosom of race

While unhappiness susurrations

That I am the call of a psyche. . . .

A-shoutin & # 8217 ; in de ole camp-meeting-place,

A-strummin & # 8217 ; o & # 8217 ; de ole banjo.

Singin & # 8217 ; in de moonlight,

Sobbin & # 8217 ; in de dark.

Singin & # 8217 ; , sobbin & # 8217 ; , strummin & # 8217 ; slow. . .

Singin & # 8217 ; decelerate, sobbin & # 8217 ; low.

Strummin & # 8217 ; , strummin & # 8217 ; , strummin & # 8217 ; slow. . .

Wordss are bright bugles

That make the polishing for my vocal,

And female parents hold down babes

To dark, warm chests

To do my singing sad.

A dancing miss with rocking hips

Sets mad the queen in the prostitute & # 8217 ; s oculus.

Praying slave

Jazz-band after

Interrupting bosom

To the clip of laughter. . .

Clinking ironss and minstrelsy

Are wedged fast with tune.

A praying slave

With a jazz-band after. . .

Singin & # 8217 ; decelerate, sobbin & # 8217 ; low.

Sun-baked lips will snog the Earth.

Throats of bronze will split with hilarity.

Singing a small faster,

Singing a small faster,

Singing!

( 1926 )

Lines Written at the Grave of Alexandre Dumas

Cemeteries are topographic points for bygone psyches

And castanetss interred,

Or Black Marias with tattered loves.

A adult female with lips made warm for laughter

Would happen gray rocks and rolling liquors

Too iciness for life, traveling pulsations. . .

And 1000, great spirit, wouldst tremble in thy granite shroud

Should tick over hilarity or empty talk

Disturb thy tranquil sleeping.

A graveyard is a topographic point for tattered loves

And interrupt Black Marias. . .

Bowed before the crystal goblet of thy psyche,

I find the motley aroma of thy head

Has lost itself in Death & # 8217 ; s transparence.

Oh, stir the limpid Waterss of thy slumber

And coin for me a narrative

Of happy loves and treasures and joyous limbs

And Black Marias where love is sweet!

A graveyard is a topographic point for broken Black Marias

And soundless idea. . .

And silence ne’er moves,

Nor speaks nor sings.

( 1926 )

Hatred

I shall detest you

Like a dart of singing steel

Shot through still air

& lt ;< p>At even-tide,

Or solemnly

As pines are sober

When they stand etched

Against the sky.

Hating you shall be a game

Played with cool custodies

And slender fingers.

Your bosom will hanker

For the alone luster

Of the pine tree

While rekindled fires

In my eyes

Shall wound you like fleet pointers.

Memory will put its custodies

Upon your chest

And you will understand

My hate.

( 1926 )

Secret

I shall do a vocal like you hair. . .

Gold-woven with shadows green-tinged,

And I shall play with my vocal

As my fingers might play with your hair.

Deep in my bosom

I shall play with my vocal of you,

Gently. . . .

I shall express joy

At its sensitive luster. . .

I shall wrap my vocal in a cover,

Blue like your eyes are bluish

With bantam shootings of Ag.

I shall wrap it caressingly,

Tenderly. . . .

I shall sing a cradlesong

To the vocal I have made

Of your hair and eyes. . .

And you will ne’er cognize

That deep in my bosom

I shelter a vocal for you

Secretly. . . .

( 1927 )

Sonnets

1.

He came in silvery armor, trimmed with black & # 8211 ;

A lover semen from fables long ago & # 8211 ;

With Ag goads and satiny plumes a-blow,

And blinking blade caught fast and buckled back

In a carved sheath of Tamarack.

He came with footfalls attractively slow,

And radius in voice meticulously low.

He came and Romance followed in his path. .

I did non inquire his name & # 8211 ; I thought him Love ;

I did non care to see his concealed face.

All life seemed born in my intaken breath ;

All thought seemed flown like some disregarded dove.

He bent to snog and raised his vizor & # 8217 ; s lacing. . .

All eager-lipped I kissed the oral cavity of Death.

2.

Some things are really beloved to me & # 8211 ;

Such things as flowers bathed by rain

Or forms traced upon the sea

Or crocuses where snow has lain. . .

The opalescence of a treasure,

The Moon & # 8217 ; s cool opalescent visible radiation,

Azaleas and the aroma of them,

And honeysuckles in the dark.

And many sounds are besides beloved & # 8211 ;

Like air currents that sing among the trees

Or crickets naming from the weir

Or Negroes humming tunes.

But dearer far than all guess

Are sudden tear-drops in your eyes

( 1927 )