Although she feeds me bread of bitterness,
And sinks into my throat her tiger's tooth,
Stealing my breath of life, I will confess
I love this cultured hell that tests my youth!
Her vigor flows like tides into my blood,
Giving me strength erect against her hate.
Her bigness sweeps my being like a flood.
Yet as a rebel fronts a king in state,
I stand within her walls with not a shred
Of terror, malice, not a word of jeer.
Darkly I gaze into the days ahead,
And see her might and granite wonders there,
Beneath the touch of Time's unerring hand,
Like priceless treasures sinking in the sand.
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Comments
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What a fine poem, embracing as it does the bitterness and love that one might have for this country. No simple answers here!
Charley Noble -
This is one of the poems I perform in our (1+1 PRODUCTIONS) staged reading; "Rhythms of the (Harlem) Renaissance." I use an American flag, and am draped with an African kente cloth while reciting this piece.
I have come to know-- even though America has had its time of offense against me, and past generations, I am proud to be a citizen of this country. Claude McKay is saying the same thing I just wrote in this comment in this writ. I admire his forgiveness, especially in the era he lived in. It took a certain courage and allegiance to write this. I love it!
Renee
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This is a great sonnet, and a great insight into an american living in america during troubled times.
I especially like,
"Stealing my breath of life, I will confess
I love this cultured hell that tests my youth!"
Sums up all the feelings very well I think.
Thanks for the read.
Edited on Jul 12, 11:37 because ''. -
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I have performed this work for 13 years, and your comment made me notice for the first time that this is indeed a "sonnet".
Boy was I not paying attention or what? THANKS!
Renee
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