Sunday, May 3, 2009

Goodmorning, Poetry!

Goodmorning, Poetry!
Poetry, how-do-you-do?
I'm worrying along -
So I come to worry you.

Ida Ruth Griffin, age 12, Harmony, Carthage

I am Mississippi fed,
I am Mississippi bred,
Nothing but a poor, black boy.

I am a Mississippi slave,
I shall be buried in a Mississippi grave,
Nothing but a poor, dead boy.

Fight on Little Children

by Edith Moore, age 15, McComb

Fight on little children, fight on
You know what you're doing is right.
Don't stop, keep straight ahead
You're just bound to win the fight

Many hardships there will be;
Many trials you'll have to face.
But go on children, keep fighting
Soon freedom will take hardship's place.

Sometimes it's going to be hard;
Sometimes the light will look dim.
But keep it up, don't get discouraged
Keep fighting, though chances seem slim.

In the end you and I know
That one day the facts they'll face.
And realize we're human too
That freedom's taken slavery's place.

Our Largest and Smallest Cities
by Nettie Rhodes, age 14, Jackson

Large town, small towns,
Vacant cities, busy cities
sports coats, nightgowns,
laughs, cries, signs, pities

All these build our largest and smallest cities.
Candy bars, grocery stores
hold the hearts of our gay kiddies
and the gossip of our neighborhood biddies.

Loud cries, mumbled noises,
Teen-agers, small kid's voices,
Freedom-riders, Jackson Advocate subscribers,
neighborhod people, political bribers.

Large towns, small towns,
Vacant cities, busy cities,
sports coats, nightgowns,
laughs, cries, sighs, pities,
All these build our largest and smallest cities.

Who Am I?
by Sandra Jo-Ann O., Hattiesburg

Who am I, let me see,
Am I a dog or am I a bee?
Am I a maniac who's out of her mind?
I think I know and I'll tell you
I'm not the girl I used to be.

Who am I? I have to know
So I may tell it wherever I go.
I'll tell it to men of all the land,
I'll tell it to kids who shake my hand,
That I am free and it shows
To everyone over all the land.

Who am I? I'll tell you now,
I'll have to find words, but I'll tell it somehow.
I am a Negro who fought her best
To earn her freedom and deserves to rest.
So do as I did, and you'll be free,
Just don't hit back and you'll win
Your rest.

I Am A Negro

by Roslyn Wterhouse, age 11, Meridian

I am a Negro and proud of its color too,
If you were a Negro wouldn't you?
I am glad of just what I am now
To be and to do things I know how.
I'm glad to be a Negro so happy and gay
To grow stronger day by day.
I am Negro and I want to be free as any other child,
To wander about the house and the woods and be wild.
I want to be Free, Free, Free.

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