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Housework...in reality
it amazes me
when I see
the happy little ladies on t.v.
who scrub the pots
and wipe the tiles
and mop the floors
all with smiles
it’s ridiculous to even think
that there’s any pleasure in cleaning sinks
or that cooking for a family of four
is one of the most exciting chores
doing housework is an utter bore
and there’s nothing more repulsive
than scrubbing a floor
cooking, mopping, and washing the tiles
can not, in reality, be done with all smiles!
Rolonda G. Watts
“And be not conformed to this world; but be ye
transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye
may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and
perfect, will of God.”
Romans 12:2
TO A DARK GIRL
I love you for your brownness
And the rounded darkness of your breast.
I love you for the breaking sadness in your voice
And shadows where your wayward eyelids rest.
Something of old forgotten queens
Lurks in the lithe abandon of your walk
And something of the shackled slave
Sobs in the rhythm of your talk.
Oh, little brown girl, born for sorrow’s mate.
Keep all you have of queenliness,
Forgetting that you once were slave,
And let your full lips laugh at Fate!
Gwendolyn Bennett
The Love Of Sin Or Vice Versa
The Light of Literacy
The night was dark and I crept silently to the master’s kitchen.
“Just a little bread, That’s all he needs,” I thought.
And because a two-year-old son’s need was never more vivid in a
mother’s mind,
1 crept on.
Then 1 felt a great strength knocking me to the ground, hollering:
“you stealing black bitch!”
And 1 realized that I’d not been quiet enough
And then the whole of the blackness of the night engulfed me.
And upon my awakening,
I knew the grave consequences of my actions.
But when your little boy is hungry, you don’t think of consequences,
you only think of his needs.
But would they understand?
To them 1 was just a “stealing black bitch”
And as such 1 would receive the punishment allotted to one of my
suppossed status.
But I took the lashes of their whips—
With the little pride and courage that 1 had left, I took them;
For my son and for my people, I took them.
And if the lashes didn’t bring pain to every fiber of my being.
The salt roughly rubbed into the cuts and welts upon by body did.
But I survived them
And a lot more, too.
And 1 became the mean, black nigger that I was supposed to be
anyway-
I secretly learned to read and write
And 1 hurt them with my words more than they could have ever hurt
me with their weapons.
And for me that was enough
Because my words and others’ made my people truly see the plight
that was ours.
And 1 knew that some day,
One day,
Every second of our lives would not be survived in total fear and
darkness.
But would be permeated by the bright light of freedom.
Darlene L. Moses
1 love a snake and know it is a sin.
1 love a loser who shall win once again.
1 love a poison and when 1 sip or drink.
I lose a little life and my heart does sink.
I love a sinner and 1 know it is true.
I’ll find no winner of my heart pulls through.
I love a scorpion but this also am 1,
I’ll crush the scorpion and surely I will die.
Velda West
Don't drag yourself
thru mud of self
contempt
when
somebody else rubs your face
in it.
Shawn Garrison
Dreaming
Gazing through worlds of ignited stars, .
sleep overcomes my weakening eyes,
and wishes occur in the form of a dreamy vision.
‘Stars we are all strong and bright
Saluting one another to shine bright,
shine bright! We ignite to burn with a wish
for freedom ... for wisdom ... for unity...
CRASH!!!
It’s over, my dream has come to an end.
Once again 1 am rejoined with reality...
Once again 1 must not dream or pretend.
Gabrielle Jeanne Girigorie
Spooks On Campus
By Pamela Denise Moore
There are ghosts on campus at
Spelman—that is, if you believe
the stories circulated among the
students here.
In Bessie Strong Hall, for exam
ple, it is said that when it rains
fiercely and there’s thunder roaring
and lightning striking, the face of
the portrait of Bessie Strong,
which is located in the main foyer,
changes direction.
Chadwick Hall has its ghosts
too. It has been said that some
years ago students ofter heard the
crying and screaming of kids. Also,
it has been said that the cries of a
girl who killed herself resound
throughout the walls of the dorm.
It may be this same girl’s ghost that
is said to walk the halls of Chad
wick at night. Both of these
accounts are rumored to stem from
two incidents: 1) the burning of
Chadwick when it was a nursery in
which some children were killed
and 2) the suicide of a girl who sup
posedly hung herself from the ceil
ing of the third floor of the dorm
Packard has its problems, too. A
former resident of Packard said
she used to always hear footsteps in
the hallways late at night. Each
time that she opened the door to
see if anyone was there, the steps
would stop and no one would be
there. Once back in bed, she would
hear the steps again.
Of course, these stories are not
intended to frighten the weak at
heart. Anyway, as the saying goes,
“There are no such things as
ghosts.” Are there?
Towards Being
As a philosopher I have found
the need for persons to be. I distin
guish being from not being in a
very simple way. For the personal
ity which remains hidden in an
individual, unknown to the outside
world, I consider not being. Con
versely, he who would share his
innermost character and convic
tions, 1 consider to be; for my
emphasis is on the unrevealed
becoming revealed. I see no virtue
in persons possessing the most
beautiful of personalities and most
profound of thoughts, who for var
ious reasons find not the courage
to share and express their inner
jewels. In a world where those who
probably have the least to say are
shouting, the desperate need arises
for he who has examined and
aligned himself toward reaching
the goals of self dignity, self suffi
ciency and brotherly affection, to
stand up and be.
Please be. For to not be, in the
real world, is to, not exist. “Here’s
hoping yours, is an enjoyable life
span.”
Arelious Calvin Wilson