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We are
Virginia Tech
by Nikki Giovanni
“We are Virginia Tech.
We are sad today and we will be sad for quite awhile. WE
are not moving on, we are embracing our mourning.
We are Virginia Tech.
We are strong enough to know when to cry and sad enough to
know we must laugh again.
We are Virginia Tech.
We do not understand this tragedy. We know we did not
deserve it but neither does a child in Africa dying of AIDS,
but neither do the invisible children walking the night to
avoid being captured by a rogue army. Neither does the baby
elephant watching his community be devastated for ivory;
neither does the Appalachian infant killed in the middle of
the night in his crib in the home his father built with his
own hands being run over by a boulder because the land was
destabilized. No one deserves a tragedy.
We are Virginia Tech.
The Hokier Nation embraces our own with open heart and
hands to those who offer their hearts and minds. We are strong
and brave and innocent and unafraid. We are better than we
think, not quite what we want to be. We are alive to the
imagination and the possibility we will continue to invent the
future through our blood and tears, through all this sadness.
We are the Hokies.
We will prevail, we will prevail.
We are Virginia Tech. "
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Love Rules The Court
Love rules the court,
The camp, the grove,
And men below, and the saints above,
For love is heaven
and heaven is love.
Sir Walter
Scott
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Our
Grandmothers
By Maya Angelou
She lay, skin down on
the moist dirt,
The canebrake rustling
with the whispers of leaves, and
loud longing of hounds and
the ransack of hunters crackling the near branches.
She muttered, lifting her head a nod toward freedom,
I shall not, I shall not be moved.
She gathered her babies,
their tears slick as oil on black faces,
their young eyes canvassing mornings of madness.
Momma, is Master going to sell you
from us tomorrow?
Yes.
Unless you keep walking more
and talking less.
Yes.
Unless the keeper of our lives
Releases me from all commandments.
Yes.
And your lives,
Never mine to live,
will be executed upon the killing floor of innocents.
Unless you match my heart and words,
saying with me,
I shall not be moved.
In Virginia tobacco fields,
leaning into the curve
on Steinway
Pianos, along Arkansas roads,
in the red hills of Georgia,
into the palms of her chained hands, she
cried against calamity,
You have tried to destroy me
And though I perish daily,
I shall not be moved.
Her universe, often
summarized into one black body
falling finally from the tree to her feet,
made her cry each time in a new voice.
All my past hastens to defeat,
and strangers claim the glory of my love,
Iniquity has bound me to his bed,
yet, I must not be moved.
She heard the names,
Swirling ribbons in the wind of history:
nigger, nigger bitch, heifer,
mammy, property, creature, ape, baboon,
whore, hot tail, thing, it.
She said, But my description cannot
fit your tongue, for
I have a certain way of being in this world
And I shall not, I shall not be moved.
No angel stretched protecting wings
above the heads of her children,
fluttering and urging the winds of reason
into the confusion of their lives.
They sprouted like young weeds,
but she could not shield their growth
from the grinding blades of ignorance, nor
Shape them into symbolic topiaries.
She sent them away,
underground, overland, in coaches and
shoeless.
When you learn, teach.
When you get, give.
As for me,
I shall not be moved.
She stood in midocean, seeking dry land.
She searched God's face.
Assured,
She placed her fire of service
on the altar, and though
clothed in the finery of faith,
when she appeared at the temple door,
no sign welcomed
Black Grandmother. Enter here.
Into the crashing sound,
into wickedness, she cried,
No one, no, nor no one million
Ones dare deny me God. I go forth
alone, and stand as ten thousand.
The Divine upon my right
Impels me to pull forever
at the latch on Freedom's gate.
The Holy Spirit upon my left leads my
feet without ceasing into the camp of the
righteous and into the tents of the free.
These momma faces, lemon-yellow, plum-purple,
honey-brown, have grimaced and twisted
down a pyramid of years.
She is Sheba and Sojourner,
Harriet and Zora,
Mary Bethune and Angela,
Annie to Zenobia.
She stands
before the abortion clinic,
confounded by the lack of choices.
In the Welfare line,
reduced to the pity of handouts.
Ordained in the pulpit, shielded
by the mysteries.
In the operating room,
husbanding life,
In the choir loft,
holding God in her throat.
On lonely street corners,
hawking her body,
In the classroom, loving the
children to understanding.
Centered on the world's stage,
she sings to her loves and beloveds,
to her foes and detractors:
However I am perceived and deceived,
however my ignorance and conceits,
lay aside your fears that I will be undone,
for I shall not be moved.
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Be A Friend
by Edgar A Guest
Be a friend. You don't need money:
Just a disposition sunny;
Just the wish to help another
Get along some way or other;
Just a kindly hand extended
Out to one who's unbefriended;
Just the will to give or lend,
This will make you someone's friend.
Be a friend. You don't need glory.
Friendship is a simple story.
Pass by trifling errors blindly,
Gaze on honest effort kindly,
Cheer the youth who's bravely trying,
Pity him who's sadly sighing;
Just a little labor spend
On the duties of a friend.
Be a friend. The pay is bigger
(Though not written by a figure)
Than is earned by people clever
In what's merely self-endeavor.
You'll have friends instead of neighbors
For the profits of your labors;
You'll be richer in the end
Than a prince, if you're a friend
Sunday in Spring by Marianne Poloskey
Each leaf,
each blade of grass
vies for attention.
Even weeds
carry tiny blossoms
to astonish us.
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These
Are My Wishes For You
Sandra Sturtz Hauss
May you find serenity and tranquility
in a world you may not always understand.
May the pain you have known
and the conflict you have experienced
give you the strength to walk through life
facing each new situation with courage and optimism.
Always know that there are those
whose love and understanding will always be there,
even when you feel most alone.
May a kind word,
a reassuring touch,
and a warm smile
be yours every day of your life,
and may you give these gifts
as well as receive them.
May the teachings of those you admire
become part of you,
so that you may call upon them.
Remember, those whose lives you have touched
and who have touched yours
are always a part of you,
even if the encounters were less than you would have wished.
It is the content of the encounter
that is more important than its form.
May you not become too concerned with material matters,
but instead place immeasurable value
on the goodness in your heart.
Find time in each day to see beauty and love
in the world around you.
Realize that what you feel you lack in one regard
you may be more than compensated for in another.
What you feel you lack in the present
may become one of your strengths in the future.
May you see your future as one filled with promise and possibility.
Learn to view everything as a worthwhile experience.
May you find enough inner strength
to determine your own worth by yourself,
and not be dependent
on another's judgment of your accomplishments.
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Lady
Freedom Among Us
don't lower your eyes
or stare straight ahead to where
you think you ought to be going
don't mutter oh no
not another one
get a job fly a kite
go bury a bone
with her old fashioned sandals
with her leaden skirts
with her stained cheeks and whiskers and
heaped up trinkets
she has risen among us in blunt reproach
she has fitted her hair under a hand-me-down cap
and spruced it up with feathers and stars
slung over her shoulder she bears
the rainbowed layers of charity and murmurs
all of you even the least of you
don't cross to the other side of the square
don't think another item to fit on a
tourist's agenda
consider her drenched gaze her shining brow
she who has brought mercy back into the streets
and will not retire politely to the potter's field
having assumed the thick skin of this town
its gritted exhaust its sunscorch and blear
she rests in her weathered plumage
bigboned resolute
don't think you can ever forget her
don't even try
she's not going to budge
no choice but to grant her space
crown her with sky
for she is one of the many
and she is each of us |
And If I Did Not Make Mistakes
Katie Paton
And if I
did not make mistakes
And give too brief a thought to heavy questions
And too much time to little matter;
Or if I always knew which road to travel
Where every step would lead me into daylight
And if each face that turned to watch me pass
Was broken by a smile;
Or if whenever I should choose to lay my heart
Bare upon the sun-warmed grass,
It always was returned with tender touches
And carried by a song;
And if my heaviest burden were only to be
A breeze upon my back, and blossom in my hair,
And my brow was never crossed with lines of pain;
If all this endless summer were my lot
And winter's fury never beat me back,
Then I never would have seen the stormy nights
Through which I've struggled, fought and won;
I never would have known the joy of needed comfort given,
Or the essence of a friend. |
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An
Inconvenience
by
John Raven
Mama,
papa,
and us
10 kids
lived in
a single room.
Once, when I
got sick
and like to die,
I heard a cry
slice through the gloom
"Hotdog!
We gon have
mo room!" |
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Influence
by
Emma Lazarus
The fervent,
pale-faced Mother ere she sleep,
Looks out upon the zigzag-lighted square,
The beautiful bare trees, the blue night-air,
The revelation of the star-strewn deep,
World above world, and heaven over heaven.
Between the tree-tops and the skies, her sight
Rests on a steadfast, ruddy-shining light,
High in the tower, an earthly star of even.
Hers is the faith in saints' and angels' power,
And mediating love--she breathes a prayer
For yon tired watcher in the gray old tower.
He the shrewd, skeptic poet unaware
Feels comforted and stilled, and knows not whence
Falls this unwonted peace on heart and sense. |
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God Bless the USA
by
Lee Greenwood
If tomorrow all the things were
gone
I'd worked for all my life,
And I had to start again
with just my children and my wife,
I'd thank my lucky stars
to be living here today,
'Cause the flag still stands for freedom
and they can't take that away.
I'm proud to be an
American
where at least I know I'm free,
And I won't forget the men who died
who gave that right to me,
And I gladly stand up next to you
and defend her still today,
'Cause there ain't no doubt I love this land
God Bless the U.S.A.
From
the lakes of Minnesota
to the hills of Tennessee,
Across the plains of Texas
from sea to shining sea.
From Detroit down to Houston
and New York to L.A.,
There's pride in every American heart
and it's time we stand and say:
I'm proud to be an American
where at least I know I'm free,
And I won't forget the men who died
who gave that right to me,
And I gladly stand up next to you
and defend her still today,
'Cause there ain't no doubt I love this land
God Bless the U.S.A.
I'm proud to be an American
where at least I know I'm free,
And I won't forget the men who died
who gave that right to me,
And I gladly stand up next to you
and defend her still today,
'Cause there ain't no doubt I love this land
God Bless the U.S.A. |
Liberty and Slavery
by
George Moses Horton
Alas! and am I born for this,
To wear this slavish chain?
Deprived of all created bliss,
Through hardship, toil, and pain!
How long have I in bondage lain,
And languished to be free!
Alas! and must I still complain--
Deprived of liberty.
Oh, Heaven! and is there no relief
This side the silent grave--
To soothe the pain--to quell the grief
And anguish of a slave?
Come, Liberty, thou cheerful sound,
Roll through my ravished ears!
Come, let my grief in joys be drowned,
And drive away my fears.
Say unto foul oppression, Cease:
Ye tyrants rage no more,
And let the joyful trump of peace,
Now bid the vassal soar.
Soar on the pinions of that dove
Which long has cooed for thee,
And breathed her notes from Afric's grove,
The sound of Liberty.
Oh, Liberty! thou golden prize,
So often sought by blood--
We crave thy sacred sun to rise,
The gift of nature's God!
Bid Slavery hide her haggard face,
And barbarism fly:
I scorn to see the sad disgrace
In which enslaved I lie.
Dear Liberty! upon thy breast,
I languish to respire;
And like the Swan upon her nest,
I'd to thy smiles retire.
Oh, blest asylum--heavenly balm!
Unto thy boughs I flee--
And in thy shades the storm shall calm,
With songs of Liberty! |
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Christmas Dinner
Paul Stookey
And it came to pass on a Christmas evening
While
all the doors were shuttered tight
Outside standing, lonely boy-child
Cold and shivering in the night
On the street, every window
Save but one, was gleaming bright
And to this window walked the boy-child
Peeking in saw, candle light
Through other windows he had looked at turkeys
Ducks and geese, cherry pies
But through this window saw a grey-haired lady
Table bare and tears in her eyes
Into his coat reached the boy-child
Knowing well there was little there
He took from his pocket,
his own Christmas dinner
bit of cheese, some bread to share
His outstretched hands
held the food and they trembled
As the door, it opened wide
Said he, Would you share with me Christmas dinner
Gently said she, Come inside
The grey-haired lady brought forth to the table
Glasses two and her last drop of wine
Said she, Here's a toast to everyone's Christmas
and especially, yours and mine
And it came to pass on that Christmas evening
While all the doors were shuttered tight
That in that town, the happiest Christmas
Was shared by candle light.
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My Sister's
Always on the Phone
Bruce Lansky
My sister's
always on the phone.
I never see her study.
She doesn't do her homework,
which is why her grades are cruddy.
My sister's always on the phone,
but I don't think that's cool.
My sister is so popular
she's flunking out of school.
Good-bye, Goldfish
The day my
favorite goldfish died,
I’m not ashamed to say, I cried.
I prayed for its departed soul,
then flushed it down the toilet bowl.
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Preacher, Don't Send
me
Maya Angelou
Preacher, Don't Send me
when I die
to some big ghetto
in the sky
where rats eat cats
of the leopard type
and Sunday brunch
is grits and tripe.
I've known those rats
I've seen them kill
and grits I've had
would make a hill,
or maybe a mountain,
so what I need
from you on Sunday
is a different creed.
Preacher, please don't
promise me
streets of gold
and milk for free.
I stopped all milk
at four years old
and once I'm dead
I won't need gold.
I'd call a place
pure paradise
where families are loyal
and strangers are nice,
where the music is jazz
and the season is fall.
Promise me that
or nothing at all.
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Shel Silverstein
Christmas Dog
Tonight's my first night as a watchdog,
And here it is Christmas Eve..
The children are sleeping' all cozy upstairs,
While I'm guarding' the stockin's and tree..
What's *that* now-footsteps on the rooftop?
Could it be a cat or a mouse?
Who's this down the chimney?
A thief with a beard-
And a big sack for robbin' the house?
I'm barkin', I'm
growlin', I'm bitin' his butt..
He howls and jumps back in his sleigh..
I scare his strange horses, they leap in the air..
I've frightened the whole bunch away..
Now the house is all peaceful and quiet again,
The stockin's are safe as can be..
Won't the kiddies be glad when they wake up tomorrow
And see how I've guarded the tree.
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Lewis Carroll
THE
CROCODILE
- HOW
doth the little crocodile
- Improve his shining tail,
- And pour the waters of the Nile
- On every golden scale!
-
- How cheerfully he seems to grin!
- How neatly spread his claws,
- And welcomes little fishes in
- With gently smiling jaws!
Father William
"YOU
are old, Father William," the young man
said,
"And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head--
Do you think, at your age, it is
right?"
"In my youth," Father William
replied to his son,
"I feared it might injure the brain;
But, now that I'm perfectly sure I have
none,
Why, I do it again and again."
"You are old," said the youth,
"as I mentioned before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the
door--
Pray, what is the reason of that?"
"In my youth," said the sage, as
he shook his gray locks,
"I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment -- one shilling
the box --
Allow me to sell you a couple?"
"You are old," said the youth,
"and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones
and the beak--
Pray, how did you manage to do it?"
"In my youth," said his father,
"I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength which it gave to
my jaw
Has lasted the rest of my life."
"You are old," said the youth,
"one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your
nose--
What made you so awfully clever?"
"I have answered three questions, and
that is enough,"
Said his father; "don't give yourself
airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such
stuff?
Be off, or I'll kick you down-stairs!
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You are Young
Abraham Lincoln
You are young, and I am older;
You are hopeful, I am not -
Enjoy life, ere it grow colder -
Pluck the roses ere they rot.
Teach your beau to heed
the lay -
That sunshine soon is lost in shade -
That now's as good as any day -
To take thee, Rosa, ere she fade.
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The Best Thing in the World
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
WHAT'S the best thing in
the world ?
June-rose, by May-dew impearled;
Sweet south-wind, that means no rain;
Truth, not cruel to a friend;
Pleasure, not in haste to end;
Beauty, not self-decked and curled
Till its pride is over-plain;
Light, that never makes you wink;
Memory, that gives no pain;
Love, when, so, you're loved again.
What's the best thing in the world ?
— Something out of it, I think. |
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Creed
John Masefield
I HOLD that when a person dies
His soul returns again to earth;
Arrayed in some new flesh-disguise
Another mother gives him birth.
With sturdier limbs and brighter brain
The old soul takes the road again.
Such is my own belief and trust;
This hand, this hand that holds the pen,
Has many a hundred times been dust
And turned, as dust, to dust again;
These eyes of mine have blinked and shown
In Thebes, in Troy, in Babylon.
All that I rightly think or do,
Or make, or spoil, or bless, or blast,
Is curse or blessing justly due
For sloth or effort in the past.
My life's a statement of the sum
Of vice indulged, or overcome.
I know that in my lives to be
My sorry heart will ache and burn,
And worship, unavailingly,
The woman whom I used to spurn,
And shake to see another have
The love I spurned, the love she gave.
And I shall know, in angry words,
In gibes, and mocks, and many a tear,
A carrion flock of homing-birds,
The gibes and scorns I uttered here.
The brave word that I failed to speak
Will brand me dastard on the cheek.
And as I wander on the roads
I shall be helped and healed and blessed;
Dear words shall cheer and be as goads
To urge to heights before unguessed.
My road shall be the road I made;
All that I gave shall be repaid.
So shall I fight, so shall I tread,
In this long war beneath the stars;
So shall a glory wreathe my head,
So shall I faint and show the scars,
Until this case, this clogging mould,
Be smithied all to kingly gold. |
He was found by the Bureau of Statistics to be
One against whom there was no official complaint,
And all the reports on his conduct agree
That, in the modern sense of an old-fashioned word, he was a saint,
For in everything he did he served the Greater Community.
Except for the War till the day he retired
He worked in a factory and never got fired,
But satisfied his employers, Fudge Motors Inc.
Yet he wasn't a scab or odd in his views,
For his Union reports that he paid his dues,
(Our report on his Union shows it was sound)
And our Social Psychology workers found
That he was popular with his mates and liked a drink.
The Press are convinced that he bought a paper every day
And that his reactions to advertisements were normal in every way.
Policies taken out in his name prove that he was fully insured,
And his Health-card shows he was once in a hospital but left it cured.
Both Producers Research and High-Grade Living declare
He was fully sensible to the advantages of the Installment Plan
And had everything necessary to the Modern Man,
A phonograph, a radio, a car and a frigidaire.
Our researchers into Public Opinion are content
That he held the proper opinions for the time of year;
When there was peace, he was for peace: when there was war, he went.
He was married and added five children to the population,
Which our Eugenist says was the right number for a parent of his generation.
And our teachers report that he never interfered with their education.
Was he free? Was he happy? The question is absurd:
Had anything been wrong, we should certainly have heard.
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The
Bean Eaters
by
Gwendolyn Brooks
They eat beans mostly, this old yellow pair.
Dinner is a casual affair.
Plain chipware on a plain and creaking wood,
Tin flatware.
Two who are Mostly Good.
Two who have lived their day,
But keep on putting on their clothes
And putting things away.
And remembering . . .
Remembering, with twinklings and twinges,
As they lean over the beans in their rented back room that
is full of beads and
receipts and dolls and cloths,
tobacco crumbs, vases and
fringes. |
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Paul Laurence Dunbar
Negro Love Song
Seen my lady home
las' night,
Jump back, honey, jump back.
Hel' huh han' an' sque'z it tight,
Jump back, honey, jump back.
Hyeahd huh sigh a little sigh,
Seen a light gleam f'om huh eye,
An' a smile go flittin' by
Jump back, honey, jump back.
Hyeahd de win' blow thoo de pine,
Jump back, honey, jump back.
Mockin'-bird was singin' fine,
Jump back, honey, jump back.
An' my hea't was beatin' so,
When I reached my lady's do',
Dat I could n't ba' to go
Jump back, honey, jump back.
Put my ahm aroun' huh wais',
Jump back, honey, jump back.
Raised huh lips an' took a tase,
Jump back, honey, jump back.
Love me, honey, love me true?
Love me well ez I love you?
Making Up
Little Miss Margaret sits in a pout,
She and her Dolly have just fallen out.
Dolly is gazing with sorest stare,
Fitted dejectedly back in her chair.
Angry at Margaret, tearful and grieved,
Sore at the spanking so lately received.
Pursed are the maiden's lips close as can be,
They are not speaking, Miss Dolly and she.
Five minutes passes in silence and then,
Margaret's ready for playing again.
Dolly unbendingly sits in her place,
Never a change coming over her face.
Up mad goes, Margaret dropping her pout,
Clasping her playmate she whispers in doubt.
Let's don't play and cry, it's too much like true,
Let's make up Dolly I ain't mad is you?
Signs of the Times
Air a-gittin' cool an'
coolah,
Frost a-comin' in de night,
Hicka' nuts an' wa'nuts fallin',
Posson keepin' out o' sight.
Tu'key struttin' in de ban'nya'd,
Nary a step so proud ez his'
Keep on struttin', Mistah Tu'key,
Yo' do' know whut time it is.
Cidah press commence a-squeakin'
Eatin' apples so'ed away,
Chillun swa'min' 'roun' lak ho'nets,
Huntin' aigs ermung de hay.
Mistah Tu'key keep on gobblin'
At de geese a-flyin' souf,
Oomph! dat bird do know whut's comin';
Ef he did he'd shet his mouf.
Pumpkin gittin' good an'
yallah
Mek me open up my eyes;
Seems lak it's a-lookin' at me
Jes' a-la'in dah sayin' "Pies."
Tu'key gobbler gwine 'roun' blowin',
Keep on talkin', Mistah Tu'key,
You ain't seed no almanac.
Fa'mer walkin' th'll de
ba'nya'd
Seein' how things is comin' on,
Sees ef all de fowls in fatt'nin'--
Good times comin' sho's you bo'n.
Hyeahs dat tu'key gobbler braggin',
Den his face break in a smile --
Nebbah min', you sassy rascal,
He's gwine nab you atter while.
Choppin' suet in de
kitchen,
Stonin' raisins in de hall,
Beef a-cookin' fu' de mince meat,
Spices groun' -- I smell 'em all.
Look hyeah, Tu'key, stop dat gobblin',
You ain' luned de sense ob feah,
You ol' fool, yo' naik's in dangah,
Do' you you Thanksgibbin's hyeah? |
Santa's New Idea
anonymous
Said Santa
Claus
One winter’s night,
‘I really think it’s only right
That gifts should have a little say
‘Bout where they’ll be on Christmas Day.’
So then and there
He called the toys
Intended for good girls and boys,
And when they’d settled down to hear,
He made his plan for them quite clear.
These were his words:
‘Soon now,’ he said,
‘You’ll all be speeding off with me
To being the Christmas joy and cheer
To little ones both far and near.
‘Here’s my idea,
It seems but fair
That you should each one have a share
In choosing homes where you will stay
On and after Christmas Day.
‘Now the next weeks
Before we go
Over the miles of glistening snow
Find out the tots that you like best
And think much nicer than the rest.’
The toys called out
‘Hurrah! Hurrah!
What fun to live always and play
With folks we choose – they’ll surely be
Selected very carefully.’
So, children dear,
When you do see
Your toys in socks or on a tree,
You’ll know in all the world ‘twas you
They wanted to be given to |
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