what is your favorite poem by langston hughes? or favorite poem altogether?

Question

i like "mother to son":

well, son, i'll tell you:
life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
it's had tacks in it,
and splinters,
and boards torn up,
and places with no carpet on the floor--
bare.
but all the time
i'se been a-climbin' on,
and reachin' landin's,
and turnin' corners,
and somtimes goin' in the dark
where there ain't been no light.
so boy, don't you turn back.
don't you set down on the steps
'cause you find it's kinder hard.
don't you fall now--for i'se still goin', honey,
i'se still climbin',
and life for me ain't been no crystal stair.

Answer 1

THEME FOR ENGLISH B
(Langston Hughes)

The instructor said,

Go home and write
a page tonight.
And let that page come out of you--
Then, it will be true.

I wonder if it's that simple?
I am twenty-two, colored, born in Winston-Salem.
I went to school there, then Durham, then here
to this college on the hill above Harlem.
I am the only colored student in my class.
The steps from the hill lead down into Harlem,
through a park, then I cross St. Nicholas,
Eighth Avenue, Seventh, and I come to the Y,
the Harlem Branch Y, where I take the elevator
up to my room, sit down, and write this page:

It's not easy to know what is true for you or me
at twenty-two, my age. But I guess I'm what
I feel and see and hear, Harlem, I hear you:
hear you, hear me--we two--you, me, talk on this page.
(I hear New York, too.) Me--who?
Well, I like to eat, sleep, drink, and be in love.
I like to work, read, learn, and understand life.
I like a pipe for a Christmas present,
or records--Bessie, bop, or Bach.
I guess being colored doesn't make me not like
the same things other folks like who are other races.
So will my page be colored that I write?

Being me, it will not be white.
But it will be
a part of you, instructor.
You are white--
yet a part of me, as I am a part of you.
That's American.
Sometimes perhaps you don't want to be a part of me.
Nor do I often want to be a part of you.
But we are, that's true!
As I learn from you,
I guess you learn from me--
although you're older--and white--
and somewhat more free.

This is my page for English B.

Answer 2

Since I am not a fan of Hughes, I shall bring my favorite poem to your attention. It is "The Conqueror Worm" by Edgar Allen Poe.

Lo! t'is a gala night
Within the lonesome latter years!
An angel throng, bewinged, bedight
In veils, and drowned in tears,
Sit in a theatre, to see
A play of hopes and fears,
While the orchestra breathes fitfully
The music of the spheres.

Mimes, in the form of God on high,
Mutter and mumble low,
And hither and thither fly --
Mere puppets they, who come and go
At bidding of vast formless things
That shift the scenery to and fro,
Flapping from out the Condor wings
Invisible Woe!

That motley drama --oh, be sure
It shall not be forgot!
With its Phantom chased for evermore,
By a crowd that seize it not,
Through a circle that ever returneth in
To the self-same spot,
And much of Madness, and more of Sin,
And Horror the soul of the plot.

But see, amid the mimic rout
A crawling shape intrude!
A blood-red thing that writhes from out
The scenic solitude!
It writhes!--it writhes!-- with mortal pangs
The mimes become its food,
And the angels sob at vermin fangs
In human gore imbued.

Out--out are the lights--out all!
And, over each quivering form,
The curtain, a funeral pall,
Comes down with the rush of a storm,
And the angels, all pallid and wan,
Uprising, unveiing, affirm
That the play is the tragedy "Man,"
And its hero the Conqueror Worm.

Answer 3

For Langston Hughes, I like
"I, Too"

I, Too, Sing America
by Langston Hughes


I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.

Tomorrow,
I'll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody'll dare
Say to me,
"Eat in the kitchen,"
Then.

Besides,
They'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed--

I, too, am America.

For all time favorite:

The Connoisseuse of Slugs
by Sharon Olds - 1983
When I was a connoisseuse of slugs I would part the ivy leaves, and look for the naked jelly of those gold bodies,
translucent strangers glistening along the stones, slowly, their gelatinous bodies at my mercy. Made mostly of water,
they would shrivel to nothing if they were sprinkled with salt,
but I was not interested in that. What I liked was to draw aside the ivy, breathe the odor of the wall,
and stand there in silence until the slug forgot I was there and sent it antennae up out of its head, the glimmering umber horns rising like telesopes,
until finally the sensitive knobs would pop out the ends, delicate and intimate. Years later,
when I first saw a naked man, I gasped with pleasure to see that quiet mystery reenacted,
the slow elegant being coming out of hiding and gleaming in the dark air,
eager and so trusting you could weep.

Sharon Olds "The Dead and The Living," copyright Sharon Olds, 1983,

Answer 4

High Flight


Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air. . . .

Up, up the long, delirious burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or ever eagle flew —
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

— John Gillespie Magee, Jr

Answer 5

A Dream Deferred, and the book of poems by Jill Scoott and Alicia Keys

Answer 6

Dream Variations
(Langston Hughes)

To fling my arms wide
In some place of the sun,
To whirl and to dance
Till the white day is done,
Then rest at cool evening
Beneath a tall tree
While night comes on gently,
Dark like me-
That is my dream!

To fling my arms wide
In the face of the sun,
Dance!Whirl!Whirl!
Till the quick day is done.
Rest at pale evening
A tall, slim tree
Night coming tenderly
Black like me

Answer 7

The Langston Hughes poem you quoted at first is my favorite, too. I discovered it years ago when I was teaching eigth-grade English. It engaged me in reading and teaching Hughes' poetry, and I've held onto it ever since. And I like "I, Too, Sing America," and "Theme for English B" and many others. (By the way, "The Incident," also a fine poem, is by Countee Cullen, not Hughes.) But the Hughes poem I quote most frequently, and hear quoted most frequently is

Dreams

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

Several of his poems on dreams lift us up and let us see beyond ourselves, beyond the here and now. "Dream Variations," of course, inspired the book Black Like Me, but maybe the most uplifting, inspiring, soul-searching of his dream poems is this one, another of my favorites. It is most memorable and deserves the recognition it's won, but it would be famous, if for no other reason, because of the image it provides to the playwright of Raisin in the Sun.

A Dream Deferred

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

In my opinion, Hughes is one of the five most influential American poets, right up there with Walt Whitman (whom he admired most along with Paul Laurence Dunbar and Carl Sandburg), Emily Dickinson, Robert Frost, and T. S. Eliot (also born in Missouri).

As different as the works, the lives, and the influence of Eliot and Hughes have been, it is interesting to note the place each of them gives to the image of rivers. Eliot says, at the beginning of Dry Salvages, " I think that the river / Is a strong brown god." "The river is within us," he goes on to say.

One other Hughes poem that I just have to quote makes this point even more dramatically:

I've known rivers:
I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow of human blood in human veins.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.
I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.
I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.
I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln went down to New Orleans, and I've seen its muddy bosom turn all golden in the sunset.

I've known rivers:
Ancient, dusky rivers.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

Oh, yes, Langston Hughes is one of my favorite poets, for his "soul has grown deep like the rivers." But it is hard to choose just one favorite poem of his, isn't it?

I've been sharing these with my students for forty years. Thank you for letting me share these once more.

Answer 8

I like the one called "An Incident" about a young black boy who visits a city, Baltimore I think, and is called a "n_____". It shows how much impact a word like that can have on a person even years later. It is very sad. I have read it to my children because I want them to learn not to be stupid and prejudiced, for to me they are the same things. Children are taught prejudice from their parents and one of my many responsibiliites is to be sure that my children are NOT!!

Answer 9

This is only part of one, but I really like it!
It's by Shakespeare...of course! lol

Let not the marriage of true minds admit impediments.
Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
Oh no! It is an ever-fixed mark
Which looks on tempests
And is never shaken.

Answer 10

I like any poems by Whitney Hales..I feel like I know her, because she's such a great poet, and we have the same first name. If you want to see any of her BEAUTIFUL poems, I would recommend looking at poetry.com. They have a wide variety of her lovely renditions.