Selected Poems of Langston Hughes Page 4

  Every detail minding

  Of the seeking or the finding.

  Pleasured equally

  In seeking as in finding,

  Each detail minding,

  Old Walt went seeking

  And finding.

  Kid in the Park

  Lonely little question mark

  on a bench in the park:

  See the people passing by?

  See the airplanes in the sky?

  See the birds

  flying home

  before

  dark?

  Home’s just around

  the corner

  there—

  but not really

  anywhere.

  Song for Billie Holiday

  What can purge my heart

                 Of the song

                 And the sadness?

  What can purge my heart

                 But the song

                 Of the sadness?

  What can purge my heart

                 Of the sadness

                 Of the song?

  Do not speak of sorrow

  With dust in her hair,

  Or bits of dust in eyes

  A chance wind blows there.

  The sorrow that I speak of

  Is dusted with despair.

  Voice of muted trumpet,

  Cold brass in warm air.

  Bitter television blurred

  By sound that shimmers—

                 Where?

  Fantasy in Purple

  Beat the drums of tragedy for me.

  Beat the drums of tragedy and death.

  And let the choir sing a stormy song

  To drown the rattle of my dying breath.

  Beat the drums of tragedy for me,

  And let the white violins whir thin and slow,

  But blow one blaring trumpet note of sun

  To go with me

                   to the darkness

                                             where I go.

  AFTER

  HOURS

  Midnight Raffle

  I put my nickel

  In the raffle of the night.

  Somehow that raffle

  Didn’t turn out right.

  I lost my nickel.

  I lost my time.

  I got back home

  Without a dime.

  When I dropped that nickel

  In the subway slot,

  I wouldn’t have dropped it,

  Knowing what I got.

  I could just as well’ve

  Stayed home inside:

  My bread wasn’t buttered

  On neither side.

  What?

  Some pimps wear summer hats

  Into late fall

  Since the money that comes in

  Won’t cover it all—

  Suit, overcoat, shoes—

  And hat, too!

  Got to neglect something,

  So what would you do?

  Gone Boy

  Playboy of the dawn,

  Solid gone!

  Out all night

  Until 12—1—2 a.m.

  Next day

  When he should be gone

  To work—

  Dog-gone!

  He ain’t gone.

  50–50

  I’m all alone in this world, she said,

  Ain’t got nobody to share my bed,

  Ain’t got nobody to hold my hand—

  The truth of the matter’s

  I ain’t got no man.

  Big Boy opened his mouth and said,

  Trouble with you is

  You ain’t got no head!

  If you had a head and used your mind

  You could have me with you

  All the time.

  She answered, Babe, what must I do?

  He said, Share your bed—

  And your money, too.

  Maybe

  I asked you, baby,

  If you understood—

  You told me that you didn’t,

  But you thought you would.

  Lover’s Return

  My old time daddy

  Came back home last night.

  His face was pale and

  His eyes didn’t look just right.

  He says, “Mary, I’m

  Comin’ home to you—

  So sick and lonesome

  I don’t know what to do.”

      Oh, men treats women

      Just like a pair o’ shoes—

      You kicks ’em round and

      Does ’em like you choose.

  I looked at my daddy—

  Lawd! and I wanted to cry.

  He looked so thin—

  Lawd! that I wanted to cry.

  But the devil told me:

      Damn a lover

      Come home to die!

  Miss Blues’es Child

  If the blues would let me,

  Lord knows I would smile.

  If the blues would let me,

  I would smile, smile, smile.

  Instead of that I’m cryin’—

  I must be Miss Blues’es child.

  You were my moon up in the sky,

  At night my wishing star.

  I love you, oh, I love you so—

  But you have gone so far!

  Now my days are lonely,

  And night-time drives me wild.

  In my heart I’m crying,

  I’m just Miss Blues’es child!

  Trumpet Player

  The Negro

  With the trumpet at his lips

  Has dark moons of weariness

  Beneath his eyes

  Where the smoldering memory

  Of slave ships

  Blazed to the crack of whips

  About his thighs.

  The Negro

  With the trumpet at his lips

  Has a head of vibrant hair

  Tamed down,

  Patent-leathered now

  Until it gleams

  Like jet—

  Were jet a crown.

  The music

  From the trumpet at his lips

  Is honey

  Mixed with liquid fire.

  The rhythm

  From the trumpet at his lips

  Is ecstasy

  Distilled from old desire—

  Desire

  That is longing for the moon

  Where the moonlight’s but a spotlight

  In his eyes,

  Desire

  That is longing for the sea

  Where the sea’s a bar-glass

  Sucker size.

  The Negro

  With the trumpet at his lips

  Whose jacket

  Has a fine one-button roll,

  Does not know

  Upon what riff the music slips

  Its hypodermic needle

  To his soul—

  But softly

  As the tune comes from his throat

  Trouble

  Mellows to a golden note.

  Monroe’s Blues

  Monroe’s fell on evil days—

  His woman and his friend is dead.

  Monroe’s fell on evil days,

  Can’t hardly get his bread.

  Monroe sings a little blues,

  His little blues is sad.

  Monroe sings a little blues—

  My woman and my friend is dead.

  Stony Lonesome

  They done took Cordelia

  Out to stony lonesome ground.

  Done took Cordelia

  To stony lon
esome,

  Laid her down.

  They done put Cordelia

  Underneath that

  Grassless mound.

      Ay-Lord!

            Ay-Lord!

                 Ay-Lord!

  She done left po’ Buddy

  To struggle by his self.

  Po’ Buddy Jones,

  Yes, he’s done been left.

  She’s out in stony lonesome,

  Lordy! Sleepin’ by herself.

      Cordelia’s

             In stony

                  Lonesome

                         Ground!

  Black Maria

  Must be the Black Maria

  That I see,

  The Black Maria that I see—

  But I hope it

  Ain’t comin’ for me.

  Hear that music playin’ upstairs?

  Aw, my heart is

  Full of cares—

  But that music playin’ upstairs

  Is for me.

  Babe, did you ever

  See the sun

  Rise at dawnin’ full of fun?

  Says, did you ever see the sun rise

  Full of fun, full of fun?

  Then you know a new day’s

  Done begun.

  Black Maria passin’ by

  Leaves the sunrise in the sky—

  And a new day,

  Yes, a new day’s

  Done begun!

  LIFE

  IS

  FINE

  Life Is Fine

  I went down to the river,

  I set down on the bank.

  I tried to think but couldn’t,

  So I jumped in and sank.

  I came up once and hollered!

  I came up twice and cried!

  If that water hadn’t a-been so cold

  I might’ve sunk and died.

      But it was

      Cold in that water!

      It was cold!

  I took the elevator

  Sixteen floors above the ground.

  I thought about my baby

  And thought I would jump down.

  I stood there and I hollered!

  I stood there and I cried!

  If it hadn’t a-been so high

  I might’ve jumped and died.

      But it was

      High up there!

      It was high!

  So since I’m still here livin’,

  I guess I will live on.

  I could’ve died for love—

  But for livin’ I was born.

  Though you may hear me holler,

  And you may see me cry—

  I’ll be dogged, sweet baby,

  If you gonna see me die.

      Life is fine!

      Fine as wine!

      Life is fine!

  Still Here

  I’ve been scarred and battered.

  My hopes the wind done scattered.

  Snow has friz me, sun has baked me.

      Looks like between ’em

      They done tried to make me

  Stop laughin’, stop lovin’, stop livin’—

      But I don’t care!

      I’m still here!

  Ballad of the Gypsy

  I went to the Gypsy’s.

  Gypsy settin’ all alone.

  I said, Tell me, Gypsy,

  When will my gal be home?

  Gypsy said, Silver,

  Put some silver in my hand

  And I’ll look into the future

  And tell you all I can.

  I crossed her palm with silver,

  Then she started in to lie.

  She said, Now, listen, Mister,

  She’ll be here by and by.

      Aw, what a lie!

  I been waitin’ and a-waitin’

  And she ain’t come home yet.

  Something musta happened

  To make my gal forget.

  Uh! I hates a lyin’ Gypsy

  Will take good money from you,

  Tell you pretty stories

  And take your money from you—

  But if I was a Gypsy

  I would take your money, too.

  Me and the Mule

  My old mule,

  He’s got a grin on his face.

  He’s been a mule so long

  He’s forgot about his race.

  I’m like that old mule—

  Black—and don’t give a damn!

  You got to take me

  Like I am.

  Kid Sleepy

  Listen, Kid Sleepy,

  Don’t you want to run around

  To the other side of the house

  Where the shade is?

  It’s sunny here

  And your skin’ll turn

  A reddish-purple in the sun.

      Kid Sleepy said,

      I don’t care.

  Listen, Kid Sleepy,

  Don’t you want to get up

  And go to work down-Town somewhere

  To earn enough

  For lunches and car fare?

      Kid Sleepy said,

      I don’t care.

  Or would you rather,

  Kid Sleepy, just

  Stay here?

      Rather just

      Stay here.

  Little Lyric (Of Great Importance)

  I wish the rent

  Was heaven sent.

  Fired

  Awake all night with loving

  The bright day caught me

  Unawares—asleep.

  “Late to work again,”

  The boss man said.

  “You’re fired!”

  So I went on back to bed—

  And dreamed the sweetest dream

  With Caledonia’s arm

  Beneath my head.

  Midnight Dancer

  Wine-maiden

  Of the jazz-tuned night,

  Lips

  Sweet as purple dew,

  Breasts

  Like the pillows of all sweet dreams,

  Who crushed

  The grapes of joy

  And dripped their juice

  On you?

  Blue Monday

  No use in my going

  Downtown to work today,

      It’s eight,

      I’m late—

  And it’s marked down that-a-way.

  Saturday and Sunday’s

  Fun to sport around.

  But no use denying—

  Monday’ll get you down.

  That old blue Monday

  Will surely get you down.

  Ennui

  It’s such a

  Bore

  Being always

  Poor.

  Mama and Daughter

      Mama, please brush off my coat

      I’m going down the street.

  Where’re you going, daughter?

      To see my sugar-sweet.

  Who is your sugar, honey?

  Turn around—I’ll brush behind.

      He is that young man, mama,

      I can’t get off my mind.

  Daughter, once upon a time—

  Let me brush the hem—

  Your father, yes, he was the one!

  I felt like that about him.

  But it was a long time ago

  He up and went his way.

  I hope that wild young son-of-a-gun

  Rots in hell today!

      Mama, dad couldn’t be still young.

  He was young yesterday.

  He was young when he—

&nbs
p; Turn around!

  So I can brush your back, I say!

  Delinquent

  Little Julie

  Has grown quite tall.

  Folks say she don’t like

  To stay home at all.

  Little Julie

  Has grown quite stout.

  Folks say it’s not just

  Stomach sticking out.

  Little Julie

  Has grown quite wise—

  A tiger, a lion, and an owl

  In her eyes.

  Little Julie

  Says she don’t care!

  What she means is:

  Nobody cares

  Anywhere.

  S-sss-ss-sh!

  Her great adventure ended

  As great adventures should

  In life being created

  Anew—and good.

      Except the neighbors

      And her mother

      Did not think it good!

  Nature has a way

  Of not caring much

  About marriage

  Licenses and such.

      But the neighbors

      And her mother

      Cared very much!

  The baby came one morning,

  Almost with the sun.

      The neighbors—

      And its grandma—

      Were outdone!