|
Teachers did not listen
When I was young
They had things to tell
Lessons
to teach and
Papers to grade
So I just shut up
I married young but
She was too busy to
Hear me, what with
Her
planning for a
Better life, for the future
And things she had to get done
The white man I
Worked for had all
He could do making money and
Making
sure I wasn't
Stealing
Sometimes, though he
Nodded
On his way out the door
And I nodded back
I prayer a lot, for
A raise, for the rent when i needed it,
But nothing ever came
Without a kick
And I thought God
Must have been
Listening to folks in India
Now
I talk to myself a
Lot and people worry
That I'm not in touch
But they're wrong because
What
moves me is when I
Talk I listen
And when I asks a question
I answer
Ain't nothing wrong with that
The poem above is "Richmond Leake, 53", one of the many poems in the book Here in Harlem.
Walter Dean Myers is the author of this book. There are a lot of poems in this book, but I liked the poem
above the most.
This poem is about a man who needs someone to talk to, but nobody will listen
to him, so he just talks to himself. Honestly, I find that sad, because nobody should I have to talk to themself; everybody
should have someone to talk to. This poem was very interesting.
|
