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Oh joy! At last a vision of loveliness,
You have that smile,
and the blue eyes,
which will beguile.

Your voice as sweet
as honey to the bee.
Your speech, soft it tis,
I enjoy seeing thee.

An observation, today, in memory care.

The scourge is here,
eating from another's plate.
He can't help it, I suppose,
he doesn't remember, he already ate.

A boat on a river,
sailing at night,
searching the World,
for the new Sunlight.

Over and over,
it is now the way,
as they do this,
day after day.

Will they find,
all which is new?
Will they find
the most beautiful you?

Up jumped the Devil,
I thought I wouldn't see,
but it was you, in the blue dress,
making a fool of me.

Why do I believe?
Why do I care?
You are my love,
We said we would share.

I'll search the World over,
searching to find,
She who I love,
She who is kind.

Alone I sit,
in my quiet reverie,
questioning how, all
of this came to be.

There were no signs
of impending doom.
Twas bright and quiet
in the library room.

Didn't I ask you,
one time before,
If you have answers,
knock on the door.

If you did not
why must we then,
go back again,
ad infinitum>

Long days, short nights,
have reversed direction.
Long nights, short days
time for more affection.

How do you care for
someone, without having direction?
We want to safeguard
are loved ones. It's protection.

There is a faith, I find,
deep within my Soul.
It isn't a belief, deep seated
within a religious sect.
Praise be to God.
Praise be to thee.
Do you not understand,
you are now praising me?

My belief has been changed,
in so many ways.
Next time we speak
I'll bring you the praise

I write me feelings
on my sleeve.
I do so without fear
of a reprieve.

If you care not
for the words I write,
it is OK, for there
is no wrong or right.

My brain is fried
like a piece of burnt toast,
I need to pray to the lord
and the Holy Ghost.

The World lay
in deep aplomb,
concerned about
an Atomic Bomb.

A nuclear war,
might soon come.
Build bomb shelters,
so, you don't succumb.

Stock it with rations
and supplies galore,
by making a run
to your local store.

How many bombs
did they drop?
How many threats
until we say STOP!

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

Langston Hughes (1902 – 1967) American Poet, social activist, novelist, playwright, columnist. More