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I loved my friend He went away from me There's nothing more to say The poem ends, Soft as it began- I loved my friend.

Langston Hughes

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Langston Hughes
Age: 66 †
Born: 1901
Born: February 1
Died: 1967
Died: May 22
Biographer
Essayist
Journalist
Novelist
Playwright
Poet
Writer
Joplin
Missouri
James Langston Hughes
James Mercer Langston Hughes
Went
Away
Ends
Nothing
Soft
Poem
Began
Friend
Loved

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What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? ... Or does it explode?
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To create a market for your writing you have to be consistent, professional, a continuing writer - not just a one-article or a one-story or a one-book man.
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When poems stop talking about the moon and begin to mention poverty, trade unions, color, color lines and colonies, somebody tells the police.
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An artist must be free to choose what he does, certainly, but he must also never be afraid to do what he might choose.
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Wear it Like a banner For the proud? Not like a shroud.
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Though you may hear me holler, And you may see me cry-- I'll be dogged, sweet baby, If you gonna see me die.
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Democracy will not come Today, this year Nor ever Through compromise and fear.
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Summer was made to give you a taste of what hell is like. Winter was made for landladies to charge high rents and keep cold radiators and make a fortune off of poor tenants.
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If you want to honor me, give some young boy or girl who's coming along trying to create arts and write and compose and sing and act and paint and dance and make something out of the beauties of the Negro race-give that child some help.
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For poems are like rainbows they escape you quickly.
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Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby.
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Good evening, daddy! Ain't you heard The boogie-woogie rumble Of a dream deferred? Trilling the treble And twining the bass Into midnight ruffles Of cat-gut lace.
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Let America be America, where equality is in the air we breathe.
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One of the great difficulties about being a member of a minority race is that so many kindhearted, well-meaning bores gather around to help.
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A world I dream where black or white, Whatever race you be, Will share the bounties of the Earth And every man is free.
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I have discovered in life that there are ways of getting almost anywhere you want to go, if you really want to go.
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I am a Negro: Black as the night is black, Black like the depths of my Africa.
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They [the police] learned something from them Harlem riots. They used to beat your head right in public, but now they only beat it after they get you down to the station house.
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So since I'm still here livin', I guess I will live on. I could've died for love-- But for livin' I was born.
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Well, when Christ comes back this time, I hope He comes back mad His own self. I hope He drives the Jim Crowers out of their high places, every living last one of them from Washington to Texas.
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