Claude McKay

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Claude McKay
Claude McKay (September 15, 1889 – May 22, 1948) was a Jamaican writer and communist. He was part of the Harlem Renaissance and wrote three novels: Home to Harlem (1928), a best-seller which won the Harmon Gold Award for Literature, Banjo (1929), and Banana Bottom (1933). McKay also authored a collection of short stories, Gingertown (1932), and two autobiographical books, A Long Way from Home (1937) and Harlem: Negro Metropolis (1940). His book of poetry, Harlem Shadows (1922) was among the first books published during the Harlem Renaissance. His book of collected poems, Selected Poems (1953), was published posthumously.

america
Although she feeds me bread of bitterness,
And sinks into my throat her tiger's tooth,
Ste... [read poem]
juggling jerry
Pitch here the tent, while the old horse grazes:
By the old hedge-side we'll halt a stage.... [read poem]
love in the valley
Under yonder beech-tree single on the green-sward,
Couched with her arms behind her golden... [read poem]
lucifer in starlight
On a starred night Prince Lucifer uprose.
Tired of his dark dominion swung the fiend
Above... [read poem]
meditation under stars
What links are ours with orbs that are
So resolutely far:
The solitary asks, and the... [read poem]
modern love: i
By this he knew she wept with waking eyes:
That, at his hand's light quiver by her head,
T... [read poem]
modern love: ii
It ended, and the morrow brought the task.
Her eyes were guilty gates, that let him in
By ... [read poem]
modern love: xiv
What soul would bargain for a cure that brings
Contempt the nobler agony to kill?
Rather l... [read poem]
modern love: xvi
In our old shipwrecked days there was an hour,
When in the firelight steadily aglow,
Joine... [read poem]
modern love: xx
I am not of those miserable males
Who sniff at vice and, daring not to snap,
Do therefore ... [read poem]
modern love: xxii
What may the woman labour to confess?
There is about her mouth a nervous twitch.
'Tis some... [read poem]
modern love: xxxiv
Madam would speak with me. So, now it comes:
The Deluge or else Fire! She's well, she thanks... [read poem]
modern love: xxvi
Love ere he bleeds, an eagle in high skies,
Has earth beneath his wings: from reddened eve... [read poem]
modern love: xlvi
At last we parley: we so strangely dumb
In such a close communion! It befell
About the sou... [read poem]
modern love: l
Thus piteously Love closed what he begat:
The union of this ever-diverse pair!
These two w... [read poem]
song in the songless
They have no song, the sedges dry,
And still they sing.
It is within my breast they ... [read poem]
advice to women
Keep cats
if you want to learn to cope with
the otherness of lovers.
Otherness is not... [read poem]
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