By Countee Cullen
Wherein are words sublime or noble? What Invests one speech with haloed eminence, Makes it the sesame...
Explore Poems: Independence Day
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- By Myra SklarewToday the moon sees fit to come between a parched earth and sun, hurrying the premature darkness. A...
- By Claude McKayAlthough she feeds me bread of bitterness, And sinks into my throat her tiger’s tooth, Stealing my breath...
- By Langston HughesLet America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be. Let it be the pioneer on the plain...
- By Fran HarawayStripes and stars, Antique cars, Pretty girls, Baton twirls, Spangled gowns, Friendly clowns, Smiling...
- By Shirley Geok-Lin Limbecause it has no pure products because the Pacific Ocean sweeps along the coastline because the water...
- By Gregory DjanikianIt's the Fourth of July, the flags are painting the town, the plastic forks and knives are laid out ...
- By Maya AngelouA Rock, A River, A Tree Hosts to species long since departed, Marked the mastodon, The dinosaur, who...
- By Gillian Conoleyof July bagpipes big mad Hitchcockian crows siren families striding hurrying want a whole lot of love...
- By Evie Shockleyi. august 1619 arrived in a boat, named and unnamed, twenty, pirated away from a portuguese slaver, traded for...
- By Hoa NguyenCan be cracked or am that you didn't consider me or I thought so recovering in a nap You took the 4th...
- By Carl SandburgLincoln? He was a mystery in smoke and flags Saying yes to the smoke, yes to the flags, Yes to the paradoxes...
- By Kathleen RooneyO little-know facts—how Robinson attracts them! Pilgrims rocked ashore here, before Plymouth Rock. The word...
- By James GalvinAll the angels of Tie Siding were on fire. The famous sky was gone. Presumably the mountains were still...
- By Delmore SchwartzJeremiah Dickson was a true-blue American, For he was a little boy who understood America, for he felt...
- By Lawrence FerlinghettiI am waiting for my case to come up and I am waiting for a rebirth of wonder and I am waiting for someone...
- By Allen GinsbergAmerica I’ve given you all and now I’m nothing. America two dollars and twentyseven cents January 17...
- By Peter BalakianThe tide’s a Bach cantata. The beach is the swollen neck of Isaac. The tide’s a lamentation of white...
- By John BrehmFreedom is a rocket, isn’t it, bursting orgasmically over parkloads of hot dog devouring human beings...
- By Vachel LindsayIt is portentous, and a thing of state That here at midnight, in our little town A mourning figure walks...