Dreams Poem by Langston Hughes

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.

I chose this poem because as people in this world we all have dreams no matter if we are all different. The category it fulfills is "another poem by an author we read this unit". Hughes was 65 when he died May 22, 1967. It was said he had complications after surgery for prostate cancer. Today there are Fans wishing to visit his final resting place. They should head to Harlem where his ashes are interred at the Arthur Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture.

Loneliness by Fanny Howe.

Loneliness is not an accident or a choice.
It’s an uninvited and uncreated companion.
It slips in beside you when you are not aware that a
choice you are making will have consequences.
It does you no good even though it’s like one of the
elements in the world that you cannot exist without.
It takes your hand and walks with you. It lies down
with you. It sits beside you. It’s as dark as a shadow
but it has substance that is familiar.
It swims with you and swings around on stools.
It boards the ferry and leans on the motel desk.

Nothing great happens as a result of loneliness.
Your character flaws remain in place. You still stop in
with friends and have wonderful hours among them,
but you must run as soon as you hear it calling.
It does call. And you climb the stairs obediently,
pushing aside books and notes to let it know that you
have returned to it, all is well.
If you don’t answer its call, you sense that it will sink
towards a deep gravity and adopt a limp.

From loneliness you learn very little. It pulls you
back, it pulls you down.

It’s the manifestation of a vow never made but kept:
I will go home now and forever in solitude.

And after that loneliness will accompany you to
every airport, train station, bus depot, café, cinema,
and onto airplanes and into cars, strange rooms and
offices, classrooms and libraries, and it will hang near
your hand like a habit.
But it isn’t a habit and no one can see it.

It’s your obligation, and your companion warms itself
against you.
You are faithful to it because it was the only vow you
made finally, when it was unnecessary.

If you figured out why you chose it, years later, would
you ask it to go?
How would you replace it?

No, saying good-bye would be too embarrassing.
Why?
First you might cry.
Because shame and loneliness are almost one.
Shame at existing in the first place. Shame at being
visible, taking up space, breathing some of the sky,
sleeping in a whole bed, asking for a share.

Loneliness feels so much like shame, it always seems
to need a little more time on its own.

I chose this poem because at times we all feel lonely. Sometimes we even make ourselves lonely by the things we do that affect our life in some type of way. I certainly know I don't like to feel lonely. The category it fulfills is "a poem by a poet we haven't read in class". What's interesting about this poem is how it describes certain areas in the poem like when the poem says "No, saying good-bye would be too embarrassing.
Why?
First you might cry.
Because shame and loneliness are almost one.
Shame at existing in the first place. Shame at being
visible, taking up space, breathing some of the sky,
sleeping in a whole bed, asking for a share". I just look at as a unique especially the way she decribes the emotions.

A Mother's Love by Helen Steiner Rice.

A Mother's love is something
that no on can explain,
It is made of deep devotion
and of sacrifice and pain,
It is endless and unselfish
and enduring come what may
For nothing can destroy it
or take that love away . . .
It is patient and forgiving
when all others are forsaking,
And it never fails or falters
even though the heart is breaking . . .
It believes beyond believing
when the world around condemns,
And it glows with all the beauty
of the rarest, brightest gems . . .
It is far beyond defining,
it defies all explanation,
And it still remains a secret
like the mysteries of creation . . .
A many splendored miracle
man cannot understand
And another wondrous evidence
of God's tender guiding hand.

I chose this poem because it reminds me a lot about my mother. It made me cherish so many things that a mother does for you even when your born. Without my mom i wouldn't know where i would be today. The category that this fulfills is "A poem on a topic that matters to you". What's interesting about this poem is what it actually describes on how a mother acts to when you are a child to now. Also the way it describes a mother is just amazing to me because a lot of people don't see the things that should cherish a mother.

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