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Spelman Spotlight November 15, 1979 Page 13
The Dance
He sauntered over.
He was tall and dark
And he wore nice, polished shoes
And he smelled good.
We Danced
With his hands resting
On my hips
I carressed
His back
And rubbed his neck
And he smelled so good
And I got lost
In the music
And his smell
And the energy
Of our warm, pressing bodies
And I hummed along
With the sweet love ballad
Swaying
And getting lost
In the music
And stepped all over
His nice, polished shoes
In the dance.
Michelle Denise Dacus
ALL YOURS"
•"FEATURED LITERARY GENIUS—
CALVIN HERNTON, born in 1932 in Chattanooga, Tennessee, is
one of the most controversial young writers published. His book in
clude Sex and Racism in America (1964) and White Papers for
White Americans (1965). His poetry also appears in various an
thologies.
THE DISTANT DRUM
I am not a metaphor or symbol.
This you hear is not the wind in the trees,
Nor a cat being maimed in the street.
I am being maimed in the street.
It is I who weep, laugh, feel pain or joy,
Speak this because I exist.
These words are my words,
My mouth speaks them.
My hand writes—
lam a poet.
It is my fist you hear
Beating against your ear.
Calvin Hernton
Right On Brothers and Sisters
If I seem un-real to you
Cause I speak with a Northern tongue
And I don’t smile enough
If I talk about Black culture and the world
And bore you with my intelligence
Rapping about oppression of my people
If I don’t act white enough for you
And you don’t like my music
The sweet bitter blues and sweet sounding jazz of my people
If you don’t dig it
Then you don’t dig me...SO
Right on Brothers and Sisters
Right on. Straight to Hell.
Florence E. Hudson
SOFT MUSIC
Soft whispers
vibrating inside
my ear drum
carress my flesh
As you say the words
ladies at the bar
on special nites
young black ladies
sit idly in
fashionable clubs
some lounge lazily
against the bar
like bored Siamese
cats
and the men
watch them
young black ladies
tired of being
lied to and then
made love to
and then lied to
they hope to find men
who will treat their
emotions like
Egyptian treasures
their eyes search
face after face
their legs under
soft silk dresses
cross and
uncross
maybe dangle slowly
and the men watch them
their hands chill
wet from holding
cold glasses of
pina coladas
the bolder ones dance
their hands touch
their hips
their tongues touch
their lips
and the men watch them
when the evening
ends
most of the
young black ladies
return home alone
fold their desires
pack them away in
tissue paper
with their soft
unsatisfied
longings
until another special nite
Beverly’Head
Dancing
Contemporary
Classic Folk
Dancing
Music
Moving
Rhythym
Twisting
Floating
Extended arms
Bends
Legs— graceful legs
J umping
Spliting
Neck arched
Torso swinging
Heart pounding
Smiling
Dancing
Mark Ruffins
and this illusionary thread,
which reaches from me to you...
is too slender for eyes to see
but oh,
is its hold so tight.
I might have sought to grab it once;
you know human nature seeks to
possess,
But
its line wavered and continued to exist.
This thread creates such a meaningful
union
as it freely and graciously spirals
to connect...
The fires within our flesh.
FREETHOUGHT
I long to hear.
Music is poetry in motion
You make me feel
like a million
Did somebody say that?
Well, if not, I’m saying it now
and there’s nothing
more that one could
Nikki, Langston, Hemmingway, Shakespeare,
do
All great poets, all great musicians
Poetry is measured in beats like
the coolest jazz
It has the rhythym of thought
To bring me closer
to you in spirit
Tho we are far apart.
not of do-re-mi
Mimicking voices
with rhythym of thought poets can
will never do.
climax
They will never
a
mock the charm
to
you possess.
up
build
OR
fade
out
like
Your laughter fills
my head
and makes me sit
down and hold
it tight inside.
a
Hey,
light.
you’re that bad!
They can stut-stut-stutter
Soft music
Without missing a beat
running-thru my
1 thing about poetry though
ear drums—
no matter how many keys
I love you!
you strike, you never hit a bad note!!!
Marta Bailey
AFFAIR
They were playing
Rock music
Led Zepplin
Kiss
And Queen
SOLOUD
i
So very loud
And I was not
Relating
I was not in tune
I was quietly
Intentedly
Slipping away
To Arthur Prysock
and
Billy Ekstine
with Nancy Wilson
and
Dionne Warwick
cooling my heels
with
Count Basie
and having
an illicitly passionate
and ethereal affair
with
Johnny Mathis
Michelle Denise Dacus
Sheila Reid
DANCE
Tracey M. Willard
Life Is Art
Have you ever considered life an ART?
The beauties o/ life are what form art
The robbins and the blue birds
The butterflies and the trees
The flowers blooming and the rivers flowing
But the most beautiful art of all is...
YOU
A man, a woman, your genetic make-up
The curves and swerves of your body
The proportion of your face
The rounding of your eyes
The curve of your nose
Yes, you are an art
Your life is an art
Nourish it, cherish it, feed it with love
and your Art will expand! -.
LaRoWda J. Motrls
■ U'J!i .-V.' ■ . .
Dancing is
A soaring eagle
Or tall grass bending in the breeze
Rhythmic
Like waves rolling slowly onto a shore
Lively as a mouse
But graceful as a swan.
Dancing can be stimulating
With a waterfall of motion
Or as subtle as a rose blooming
Dancing is moonlight on a wavy sea
Or Count Basie’s fingers on the old ivory
Dancing is exciting
Especially in dark corners with the one you love
Dancing is thought, put to motion
With music as its impetus.
Mark Ruffins
’ , ■ m ,
