Langston+Hughes



Langston Hughes By: Sydney F

Langston Hughes was a great poet, and had written many great poems. Langston was born on February 1, 1902 in Joplin, Missouri, and he died May 22, 1967. Langston had a rough childhood. His parents got divorced when he was still a little boy. His father left the picture, he was then raised by his grandmother. He moved to Lincoln, Illinois to live with his mother. This is when he started writing poetry. Eventually he, his mother, and her husband settled in Cleveland, Ohio. After Langston graduated he spent one year in Mexico, and one year at Columbia University. November 1924 Langston moved to Washington, D.C. Two years later in 1926 he published his first book of poetry, //The Weary Blues//. Langston finished his college education at Lincoln University in Pennsylvania. In 1930 he published his first novel, //Not Without Laughter// which he later won the Harmon Gold medal for literature for. Langston said Paul Lawrence Dunbar, Carl Sandburg, and Walt Whitman were his inspiration for his writing. Langston is known for his portrayals of black life in America, and the way Jazz had an influence on his writing. He did all sorts of writing, short stories, plays, and poetry. Through his writing he told stories of his people in a way that shined on their culture. Langston then died on May 22, 1967 due to prostate cancer. Even though he is not with us his legacy lives on through his writing, and the work he did with others.

By 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.

Let the rain kiss you  Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops  Let the rain sing you a lullaby  The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk  The rain makes running pools in the gutter  The rain plays a little sleep song on our roof at night  And I love the rain. ||
 * =**April Rain Song** =