Vox Populi

A curated webspace for Poetry, Politics, and Nature. Over 15,000 daily subscribers. Over 7,000 archived posts.

Paul Laurence Dunbar: Religion

I am no priest of crooks nor creeds,
For human wants and human needs
Are more to me than prophets’ deeds

February 3, 2023 · 8 Comments

Toi Derricotte | Christmas Eve: My Mother Dressing

My mother was not impressed with her beauty;
once a year she put it on like a costume

December 24, 2022 · 13 Comments

Clarissa Scott Delany: Joy

Joy shakes me like the wind that lifts a sail…

June 10, 2022 · 2 Comments

Jericho Brown: Nativity

Come trouble’s birthday,
I think of every gift people get
They don’t use. Oh, and I
Pray.

December 25, 2021 · 2 Comments

Countee Cullen: Yet Do I Marvel

I doubt not God is good, well-meaning, kind,
And did He stoop to quibble could tell why
The little buried mole continues blind

December 3, 2021 · 3 Comments

Paul Laurence Dunbar: In Summer Time

‘Tis wealth enough of joy for me
In summer time to simply be.

August 15, 2021 · 8 Comments

Chard deNiord: “We Will Not Give Up on Each Other”: A Conversation with Major Jackson

We are living in an age of absurdity, but I am casting for wider seas.

April 25, 2021 · 2 Comments

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper: Bury Me in a Free Land

All that my yearning spirit craves,
Is bury me not in a land of slaves.

August 14, 2020 · 6 Comments

Paul Laurence Dunbar: Sympathy

I know why the caged bird beats his wing
Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;
For he must fly back to his perch and cling…

July 3, 2020 · 1 Comment

Amiri Baraka: Preface to a Twenty Volume Suicide Note

And now, each night I count the stars,
And each night I get the same number.
And when they will not come to be counted,
I count the holes they leave.

April 17, 2020 · Leave a comment

Amiri Baraka: The Liar

What I thought was love
in me, I find a thousand instances
of fear.

February 28, 2020 · 2 Comments

Thomas Sayers Ellis: Godzilla’s Avocado

An artichoke’s heart does not pump ketchup.
It pumps pesto,
oily, olive clots of guacamole.

November 30, 2019 · Leave a comment

Sheila Carter-Jones: Running into a high school classmate years after

I was the only, back then Negro, girl
in a class of four hundred waves splashing,
tossing me about in the crash

October 9, 2019 · 1 Comment

Richard Wright: Haiku

I am nobody:
A red sinking autumn sun
Took my name away.

September 6, 2019 · 1 Comment

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