Selected Poems of Langston Hughes Read Online Free

windlessness
    Of our house in Taos.
Demand
    Listen!
    Dear dream of utter aliveness—
    Touching my body of utter death—
    Tell me, O quickly! dream of aliveness,
    The flaming source of your bright breath.
    Tell me, O dream of utter aliveness—
    Knowing so well the wind and the sun—
        Where is this light
        Your eyes see forever?
        And what is this wind
        You touch when you run?
Dream
    Last night I dreamt
    This most strange dream,
    And everywhere I saw
    What did not seem could ever be:
    You were not there with me!
    Awake,
    I turned
    And touched you
    Asleep,
    Face to the wall.
    I said,
    How dreams
    Can lie!
    But you were not there at all!
Night: Four Songs
    Night of the two moons
    And the seventeen stars,
    Night of the day before yesterday
    And the day after tomorrow,
    Night of the four songs unsung:
        Sorrow! Sorrow!
        Sorrow! Sorrow!
Luck
    Sometimes a crumb falls
    From the tables of joy,
    Sometimes a bone
    Is flung.
    To some people
    Love is given,
    To others
    Only heaven.
Old Walt
    Old Walt Whitman
    Went finding and seeking,
    Finding less than sought
    Seeking more than found,
    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