Langston Hughes Poem by Hans Ostrom

Langston Hughes

Rating: 5.0

In a wilderness of reasons
not to write, he wrote. Just wrote.
Each word was the belief
in the possibility of the next.
He kept it going.

Mostly his days and words talk
quietly, though he could rant and rage.
Mention is what his voices usually do
in a world of self-convinced noise.

Truth mentioned is a sweet brass
note you’ll never forget. Writing,
Langston showed writing to be
an unashamed act, one of the few
in a shameful, shaming world. Words

grin. Words reside. Words throw
a meal together for unexpected friends,
make a garden in front of a brownstone,
come back from long sea voyages
alive. Words aren’t everything,
are not the rent, often
may be only change left from
a last dollar spent in Paris or Reno.

Morning: Hallelujah.
The world goes to its terrible work
of silencing souls. Out
of an open window comes a tapping—
the tick, the tack, the click and the clack,
Jack, of writing. And all those sorry rooftops
get red, get glad, get suave, get saved.

Saturday, May 17, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: writing
Kewayne Wadley 09 March 2015

Greatness! ! ! ! Thanks so much for sharing

3 2 Reply
Aftab Alam Khursheed 09 March 2015

You have lit a candle love the write

4 0 Reply
Yen Cress 19 October 2007

WOW! WOW! WOW! What a wonderful, exquisite tribute to one of the world's great poetic voices! It humbles me to think I presume to write poetry, too. Thank you for this jewel! Yen

2 2 Reply
Borken doggo 27 March 2018

Bork bork bork bork BOrK

0 0 Reply
Chinedu Dike 26 February 2017

Lovely tribute to literary icon nicely penned with insight. Thanks for sharing Hans.

1 0 Reply
Chicken Finger 22 January 2016

I like chicken they go BOK BOK

2 1 Reply
Godfrey Morris 09 March 2015

Awesome writer was Langston Hughes.

2 2 Reply
Chicken Finger 22 January 2016

Chick finger great write too :)

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Bernard Snyder 09 March 2015

Awesome 'piece' Hans! Thanks for sharing!

3 2 Reply
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