Search results
People also ask
What is a Gwendolyn Bennett poetry essay?
How many poems did Gwendolyn Bennett write?
Why did Gwendolyn Bennett write dark girl?
Heritage. Gwendolyn Bennett. 1902 –. 1981. I want to see the slim palm-trees, Pulling at the clouds. With little pointed fingers…. I want to see lithe Negro girls, Etched dark against the sky.
Aug 15, 2022 · Etched dark against the sky. While sunset lingers. I wan to hear the silent sands, Singing to the moon. Before the Sphinx-still face. . . . I want to hear the chanting. Around a heathen fire. Of a strange black race. I want to breathe the Lotus flow'r,
- Nocturne
- Heritage
- To Usward
- Epitaph
- Hatred
- Lines Written at The Grave of Alexandre Dumas
- Song
- Street Lamps in Early Spring
- To A Dark Girl
- Quatrains
This cool night is strange Among midsummer days… Far frosts are caught In the moon’s pale light, And sounds are distant laughter Chilled to crystal tears. . . . . . . . . . .
I want to see the slim palm-trees, Pulling at the clouds With little pointed fingers … I want to see lithe Negro girls, Etched dark against the sky While sunset lingers. I want to hear the silent sands, Singing to the moon Before the Sphinx-still face … I want to hear the chanting Around a heathen fire Of a strange black race. I want to breathe the...
Let us be still As ginger jars are still Upon a Chinese shelf. And let us be contained By entities of Self … Not still with lethargy and sloth, But quiet with the pushing of our growth. Not self-contained with smug identity But conscious of the strength in entity. If any have a song to sing That’s different from the rest, Oh let them sing Before th...
When I am dead, carve this upon my stone: Here lies a woman, fit root for flower and tree, Whose living flesh, now mouldering round the bone, Wants nothing more than this for immortality, That in her heart, where love so long unfruited lay A seed for grass or weed shall grow, And push to light and air its heedless way; That she who lies here dead m...
I shall hate you Like a dart of singing steel Shot through still air At even-tide, Or solemnly As pines are sober When they stand etched Against the sky. Hating you shall be a game Played with cool hands And slim fingers. Your heart will yearn For the lonely splendor Of the pine tree While rekindled fires In my eyes Shall wound you like swift arrow...
Cemeteries are places for departed souls And bones interred, Or hearts with shattered loves. A woman with lips made warm for laughter Would find grey stones and roving spirits Too chill for living, moving pulses . . . And thou, great spirit, wouldst shiver in thy granite shroud Should idle mirth or empty talk Disturb thy tranquil sleeping. A cemete...
I am weaving a song of waters, Shaken from firm, brown limbs, Or heads thrown back in irreverent mirth. My song has the lush sweetness Of moist, dark lips Where hymns keep company With old forgotten banjo songs. Abandon tells you That I sing the heart of race While sadness whispers That I am the cry of a soul … A-shoutin’ in de ole camp-meeting-pla...
Night wears a garment All velvet soft, all violet blue … And over her face she draws a veil As shimmering fine as floating dew … And here and there In the black of her hair The subtle hands of Night Move slowly with their gem-starred light. . . . . . . . . . .
I love you for your brownness, And the rounded darkness of your breast, I love you for the breaking sadness in your voice And shadows where your wayward eyelids rest. Something of old forgotten queens Lurks in the lithe abandon of your walk And something of the shackled slave Sobs in the rhythm of your talk. Oh, little brown girl, born for sorrow’s...
Brushes and paints are all I have To speak the music in my soul— While silently there laughs at me A copper jar beside a pale green bowl. 2 How strange that grass should sing— Grass is so still a thing … And strange the swift surprise of snow So soft it falls and slow. . . . . . . . . . .
Heritage. Gwendolyn Bennett. I want to see the slim palm-trees,Pulling at the cloudsWith little pointed fingers. . . . I want to see lithe Negro girls,Etched dark against the skyWhile sunset lingers.I want to hear the silent sands,Singing to the moonBefore the Sphinx-still face. . . .
- Gwendolyn Bennett
Gwendolyn Bennett’s poem “Heritage,” published two years before Cullen’s poem of the same name, describes the animals and plants of Africa and stresses the importance of pride in one’s ancestors and history.
Heritage. by Gwendolyn Bennett. I want to the see the slim palm-trees, Pulling at the clouds. With little pointed fingers. . . . I want to see lithe Negro girls, Etched dark against the sky. While sunset lingers. I want to hear the silent sands,
During her undergraduate education, Bennett’s poem “Nocturne” was published in Crisis in November, 1923, and in December of the same year, her poem “Heritage” was included in Opportunity, a magazine published by the National Urban League. In 1925, Bennett continued her fine arts education at Academic Julian and Ecole du Pantheon in Paris.
