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Best Famous Yrs Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Yrs poems. This is a select list of the best famous Yrs poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Yrs poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of yrs poems.

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Written by Robert Hayden | Create an image from this poem

Runagate Runagate

 Runs falls rises stumbles on from darkness into darkness 
and the darkness thicketed with shapes of terror 
and the hunters pursuing and the hounds pursuing 
and the night cold and the night long and the river 
to cross and the jack-muh-lanterns beckoning beckoning 
and blackness ahead and when shall I reach that somewhere
morning and keep on going and never turn back and keep on going

 Runagate
 Runagate
 Runagate

Many thousands rise and go
many thousands crossing over
 0 mythic North
 0 star-shaped yonder Bible city

Some go weeping and some rejoicing 
some in coffins and some in carriages 
some in silks and some in shackles

 Rise and go or fare you well

No more auction block for me
no more driver's lash for me

 If you see my Pompey, 30 yrs of age, 
 new breeches, plain stockings, ***** shoes; 
 if you see my Anna, likely young mulatto 
 branded E on the right cheek, R on the left, 
 catch them if you can and notify subscriber.
Catch them if you can, but it won't be easy.
They'll dart underground when you try to catch them, plunge into quicksand, whirlpools, mazes, torn into scorpions when you try to catch them.
And before I'll be a slave I'll be buried in my grave North star and bonanza gold I'm bound for the freedom, freedom-bound and oh Susyanna don't you cry for me Runagate Runagate II.
Rises from their anguish and their power, Harriet Tubman, woman of earth, whipscarred, a summoning, a shining Mean to be free And this was the way of it, brethren brethren, way we journeyed from Can't to Can.
Moon so bright and no place to hide, the cry up and the patterollers riding, hound dogs belling in bladed air.
And fear starts a-murbling, Never make it, we'll never make it.
Hush that now, and she's turned upon us, levelled pistol glinting in the moonlight: Dead folks can't jaybird-talk, she says; you keep on going now or die, she says.
Wanted Harriet Tubman alias The General alias Moses Stealer of Slaves In league with Garrison Alcott Emerson Garrett Douglass Thoreau John Brown Armed and known to be Dangerous Wanted Reward Dead or Alive Tell me, Ezekiel, oh tell me do you see mailed Jehovah coming to deliver me? Hoot-owl calling in the ghosted air, five times calling to the hants in the air.
Shadow of a face in the scary leaves, shadow of a voice in the talking leaves: Come ride-a my train Oh that train, ghost-story train through swamp and savanna movering movering, over trestles of dew, through caves of the wish, Midnight Special on a sabre track movering movering, first stop Mercy and the last Hallelujah.
Come ride-a my train Mean mean mean to be free.


Written by Ntozake Shange | Create an image from this poem

Stuff

somebody almost walked off wid alla my stuff ?not my poems or a dance i gave up in the street? but somebody almost walked off wid alla my stuff

like a kleptomaniac workin hard & forgettin while stealin? this is mine/this aint yr stuff/?now why don’t you put me back & let me hang out in my own self

somebody almost walked off wit alla my stuff ; didn’t care enuf to send a note home sayin ?i was late for my solo conversation? or two sizes to small for my own tacky skirts

what can anybody do wit somethin of no value on?a open market/ did you getta dime for my things/?hey man/ where are you goin wid alla my stuff/?to ohh & ahh abt/ daddy/ i gotta mainline number ?from my own ****/ now wontcha put me back/ & let? me play this duet/ wit silver ring in my nose/?honest to god/

somebody almost run off wit alla my stuff/ ?& i didnt bring anythin but the kick & sway of it ?the perfect ass for my man & none of it is theirs ?this is mine/ ntozake ‘her own things’/ that’s my name? now give me my stuff/ i see ya hidin my laugh/ & how i?s it wif my legs open sometimes/ to give me ?some sunlight/ & there goes my love my toes my chewed ?up finger nails/ niggah/ wif the curls in yr hair/?mr. louisiana hot link/

i want my stuff back/?my rhythms & my voice/ open my mouth/ & let me talk ya ?outta/ throwin my **** in the sewar/ this is some delicate ?leg & whimsical kiss/ i gotta have to give to my choice/?without you runnin off wit alla my ****/?now you cant have me less i give me away/  i waz?doin all that/ til ya run off on a good thing/

who is this you left me wit/ some simple ***** ?widda bad attitude/ i wants my things/?i want my arm wit the hot iron scar/ & my leg wit the? flea bite/ i want my calloused feet & quik language back?in my mouth/ fried plantains/ pineapple pear juice/ ?sun-ra & joseph & jules/ i want my own things/ how i lived them/?& give me my memories/ how i waz when i waz there/?you cant have them or do nothin wit them/

stealin my **** from me/ dont make it yrs/ makes it stolen/?somebody almost run off wit alla my stuff/ & i waz standin? there/ lookin at myself/ the whole time ?& it waznt a spirit took my stuff/ waz a man whose ?ego walked round like Rodan’s shadow/ waz a man faster?n my innocence/

waz a lover/ i made too much ?room for/ almost run off wit alla my stuff/?& i didnt know i’d give it up so quik/ & the one runnin wit it/?don’t know he got it/ & i’m shoutin this is mine/ & he dont ?know he got it/ my stuff is the anonymous ripped off treasure? of the year/

did you know somebody almost got away wit me/?me in a plastic bag under their arm/ me ?danglin on a string of personal carelessness/ i’m spattered wit? mud & city rain/ & no i didnt get a chance to take a douche/?hey man/ this is not your prerogative/ i gotta have me in my? pocket/ to get round like a good woman shd/ & make the poem?in the pot or the chicken in the dance/

what i got to do/?i gotta get my stuff to do it to/?why dont ya find yr own things/ & leave this package ?of me for my destiny/ what ya got to get from me/?i’ll give it to ya/ yeh/ i’ll give it to ya/?round 5:00 in the winter/ when the sky is blue-red/?& Dew City is gettin pressed/ if it’s really my stuff/?ya gotta give it to me/ if ya really want it/ i’m ?the only one/ can handle it

-----By: Ntozake Shange. 

Book: Shattered Sighs