Treasure Island

Claude McKay

(15 September 1889 – 22 May 1948 / Clarendon)

White Houses


Your door is shut against my tightened face,
And I am sharp as steel with discontent;
But I possess the courage and the grace
To bear my anger proudly and unbent.
The pavement slabs burn loose beneath my feet,
A chafing savage, down the decent street;
And passion rends my vitals as I pass,
Where boldly shines your shuttered door of glass.
Oh, I must search for wisdom every hour,
Deep in my wrathful bosom sore and raw,
And find in it the superhuman power
To hold me to the letter of your law!
Oh, I must keep my heart inviolate
Against the potent poison of your hate.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003

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  • Sylva Portoian (11/4/2011 4:13:00 PM)

    Sylva Portoian (11/4/2011 3: 39: 00 PM)

    Please read this poem
    It respires from Black Skin
    But from a real White Heart
    Forwarded to The White House
    Those who respect the Criminals
    And neglect Innocent races
    Who Can't possess guns
    And never like to kill...
    Who can't protect them selves
    From Scavengers
    Those slayers have countless
    Hidden scimitars... (Report) Reply

  • Sylva Portoian (11/4/2011 3:34:00 PM)

    This is one of the best English poems
    That inspired me to write...
    Why it is ignored on this site..?
    No comments
    No Cry...
    No praise
    I can't understand, why...!

    I say to Claude,
    ' Don't keep Your heart Inviolate
    The people neglect your pure heart
    They vote for others
    Who said to be famous
    But after I read your stanzas
    I felt readers are unfair
    Lost sense
    To understand your mind...! (Report) Reply

Read all 3 comments »

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