Sunday, April 30, 2023

April Is National Poetry Month! 

The Negro Mother

Children, I come back today

To tell you a story of the long dark way

That I had to climb, that I had to know

In order that the race might live and grow.

Look at my face – dark as the night –

Yet shining like the sun with love's true light.

I am the child they stole from the sand

Three hundred years ago in Africa's land.

I am the dark girl who crossed the wide sea

Carrying in my body the seed of the free.

I am the woman who worked in the field

Bringing the cotton and corn to yield.

I am the one who labored as a slave,

Beaten and mistreated for the work that I gave –

Children sold away from me, husband sold, too.

No safety, no love no respect was I due.

Three hundred years in the deepest south:

But God put a song and a prayer in my mouth.

God put a dream like steel in my soul.

Now, through my children, I'm reaching the goal.

Now, through my children, young and free,

I realize the blessings denied to me.

I couldn't read then. I couldn't write.

I had nothing, back there in the night.

Sometimes, the valley was filled with tears,

But I kept trudging on through the lonely years.

Sometimes, the road was hot with sun,

But I had to keep on till my work was done:

I had to keep on! No stopping for me –

I was the seed of the coming Free.

I nourished the dream that nothing could smother

Deep in my breast – the Negro mother.

I had only hope then, but now through you

Dark ones of today, my dreams must come true:

All you dark children in the world out there,

Remember my sweat, my pain, my despair.

Remember my years, heavy with sorrow –

And make of those years a torch for tomorrow.

Make of my past a road to the light

Out of darkness, the ignorance, the night.

Lift high my banner out of the dust.

Stand like free men supporting my trust.

Believe in the right, let none push you back.

Remember the whip and the slaver's track.

Remember how the strong in struggle and strife

Still bar you the way, and deny you life –

But march ever forward, breaking down bars.

Look ever upward at the sun and the stars.

Oh, my dark children, may my dreams and my prayers

Impel you forever up the great stairs –

For I will be with you till no white brother

Dares keep down the children of the Negro mother.

Saturday, April 29, 2023

April Is National Poetry Month!

Featured in Teamwork magazine, The Associated Negro Press, and in The American Negro Poetry magazine.

This poem is from the libretto of “Troubled Island.” An opera written by Langston Hughes and William Grant Still.


I Dream a World


I dream a world where man

No other man will scorn,

Where love will bless the earth

And peace its paths adorn.

I dream a world where all

Will know sweet freedom's way,

Where greed no longer saps the soul

Nor avarice blights our day.

A world I dream where black or white,

Whatever race you be,

Will share the bounties of the earth

And every man is free,

Where wretchedness will hang its head

And joy, like a pearl,

Attends the needs of all mankind –

of such I dream, my world!

Friday, April 28, 2023

April Is National Poetry Month!


Necessity


Work?

I don't have to work.

I don't have to do nothing

but eat, drink, stay black, and die.

This little old furnished room's

so small I can't whip a cat

without getting fur in my mouth

and my landlady's so old

her features is all run together

and God knows she sure can overcharge –

Which is why I reckon I does

have to work after all. 

Go SetaPhire Today!

NOW AVAILABLE IN PAPERBACK

Purchase Your Copy Today!

SetaPhire

Paperback Available @BarnesAndNoble.Com

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/setaphire-nicole-hammett/1133290392

Commemorating and Celebrating the life of Marcus Mosiah Garvey!

SetaPhire

The First Book In The SetaPhire Series

Quirky, Historical, Educational, and Entertaining!

Setaphire is a coming-of-age story of an awkward African American adolescent who’s gifted an unusual present on her 11th birthday. The Truth! What is this truth? Her name is not Sapphire. It’s Setaphire! What is Setaphire supposed to SET A FIRE to?

The chosen journey begins on their 11th birthday, whisked away to an unfamiliar town and an unknown academy modeled on a Black History curriculum and Marcus Garvey’s philosophies. The academy provides support and guidance. As the instructors wade the chosen through the tempestuous of self-doubt and to the realization that they are Black Beauty and Black Excellence.

    

   


                

  GO SETAPHIRE TODAY! 

Paperback Available @BarnesAndNoble.Com

Purchase Your Copy of SetaPhire: Mandela

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/setaphire-nicole-hammett/1140532426?ean=9781668587218

Commemorating and Celebrating the life of Marcus Mosiah Garvey!

SetaPhire: Mandela

What is the purpose of your life? 

What are you supposed to Setaphire to?

Mandela’s journey begins




More than Setaphire’s best friend. Born Francesca Xnonymous in Kingston, Jamaica. On Francesca's 11th birthday, she’s given the truth as a gift. Her name is not Francesca Xnonymous, it’s Mandela Xnonymous. Mandela will leave her bittersweet paradise behind and move to a foreign land to attend a prestigious elite academy.

Modeled on a Black History curriculum and Marcus Garvey's philosophies. The Academy provides support and guidance as the instructors wade the chosen through the tempestuous of self-doubt to the realization that they are Black Beauty and Black Excellence!

              GO SETAPHIRE TODAY!

Purchase Your Copy of BLACK CROSS Today!

Paperback Now Available @BarnesAndNoble.Com

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/black-cross-nicole-hammett/1140532427?ean=9781668593448

BLACK CROSS

Stage Play by Nicole Hammett

Cover Illustrated by Nicole Hammett



A tie-in with the SETAPHIRE SERIES!

BLACK CROSS

The New Negro Movement. Back to Africa Movement. Harlem 1921. Home of the Black family. Black Cross tells the story of the becoming of Alice-Paul Black. Wife of Rufus Black, mother of Willie and Junior Black, daughter of Mamie Johnson.

Born a dark-skinned Negro woman. 

Disallowed the right to dream.

Black Cross tells the story of Alice-Paul Black’s willingness to no longer accept who her husband allows her to be. Who her mother tells her she needs to be. Who the world says that she is. It took a long time for Alice-Paul Black to find her voice. She’s going to tell you who she ain’t.


Thursday, April 27, 2023

April Is National Poetry Month


Madam's Past History



My name is Johnson –

Madam Alberta K.

The madam stands for business.

I'm smart that way.



I had a

HAIR-DRESSING PARLOR

Before

The depression put

The prices lower.



Then I had a

BARBECUE STAND

Till I got mixed up

with a no-good man.



Cause I had insurance

The WPA

Said, We can't use you

Wealthy that way.



I said,

DON'T WORRY 'BOUT ME!

Just like the song,

You WPA folks take care of yourself –

And I'll get along.



I do cooking,

Day's work, too!

Alberta K. Johnson –

Madam to you.

Wednesday, April 26, 2023

April Is National Poetry Month 

Before state lotteries, there was the numbers game. Illegal gambling where not only money rode on bets, but hopes and dreams, too. Many Numbers games operated throughout the black communities, Chicago, Cleveland, Detroit, and Atlanta.

My grandmother played the numbers in Baltimore.

Legendary Harlem Number Racketeers were Madame Queen and The Botito King.

First published in the Contemporary Poetry magazine during the Autumn of 1943 under the name “Madam and the Number Runner.”

I present the one and only Madam Alberta K. Johnson!



Madam and the Number Writer


Number runner

Come to my door.

I had swore

I wouldn't play no more.


He said, Madam,

6-0-2

Looks like a likely

Hit for you.


I said, Last night,

I dreamed 7-0-3

He said, That might

Be a hit for mie.


He played a dime,

I played too,

Then we boxed 'em

Wouldn't you?


But the number that day

was 3-2-6

And we both was in

The same old fix.


I said, I swear I

Ain't gonna play no more

Till I get over

To the other shore--


Then I can play

On them golden streets

Where the number not only

Comes out—but repeats!


The runner said, Madam,

That's all very well –

But suppose

You goes to hell?

Tuesday, April 25, 2023

April Is National Poetry Month 

Also named “Crossing Jordan,” with an alternate ending. The last two lines read, “Crossing Jordan! Crossing Jordan! Alone and by myself.”


Crossing


It was that lonely day, folks

When I walked all by myself.

My friends was all around me

But it was if they'd left.

I went up on a mountain

In a high cold wind

And the coat that I was wearing

Was mosquito-netting thin.

I went down in the valley

And I crossed an icy stream

And the water I was crossing

Was no water in a dream

And the shoes I was wearing

No protection for that stream.

Then I stood out on a prairie

And as far as I could see

Wasn't nobody on that prairie

Looked like me.

It was that lonely day, folks

I walked all by myself:

My friends was right there with me

But was just as if they'd left.

Monday, April 24, 2023

April Is National Poetry Month 


Harlem Sweeties

Have you dug the spill

Of Sugar Hill?

Cast your gims

On this Sepia thrill:

Brown sugar lassie,

Caramel treat,

Honey-gold baby

Sweet enough to eat.

Peach-skinned girlie.

Coffee and cream,

Chocolate darling

Out of a dream.

Walnut tinted

Or cocoa brown,

Pomegranate lipped

Pride of the town.

Rich cream colored

To plum-tinted black,

Feminine sweetness

In Harlem's no lack.

Glow of the quince

To blush of the rose.

Persimmon bronze

To cinnamon toes.

Blackberry cordial,

Virginia dare wine--

All those sweet colors

Flavor Harlem of mine!

Walnut or cocoa,

Let me repeat:

Caramel, brown sugar,

A chocolate treat.

Molasses taffy,

Coffee and cream,

Licorice, clove, cinnamon

To a honey-brown dream.

Ginger, wine-gold,

Persimmon, blackberry,

All through the spectrum

Harlem girls vary--

So if you want to know beauty's

Rainbow-sweet thrill,

Stroll down luscious,

Delicious, fine Sugar Hill.

Sunday, April 23, 2023

 April Is National Poetry Month

The poem was first published in The Carmel Pine Cone Newspaper on April 4, 1941.


If-ing


If I had some small change

I'd buy me a mule,

Get on that mule and

Ride like a fool.



If I had some greenbacks

I'd buy me a packard,

Fill it up with gas and

Drive that baby backward.



If I had a million

I'd get me a plane

And everybody in America'd

Think I was insane.



But I ain't got a million,

Fact is, ain't got a dime--

So just by if-ing

I have a good time!



Saturday, April 22, 2023

 April Is National Poetry Month

The poem first appeared in Poetry magazine in April 1940.


Love Again Blues


My life ain't nothin'

But a lot o' Gawd-knows-what.

I say my life ain't nothin'

But a lot o' Gawd-knows-what.

Just one thing after 'nother

Added to de trouble that I got.



When I got you I

Thought I had an angel-chile.

When I got you

Thought I had an angel-chile.

You turned out to be the devil

That mighty nigh drove me wild!



Tell me, tell me,

What makes love such an ache and pain?

Tell me what makes

Love such an ache and pain?

It takes you and it breaks you--

But you got to love again.

Friday, April 21, 2023

April Is National Poetry Month

This poem was first published in The Crisis magazine in March 1940.


Notes on Commercial Theatre


You've taken my blues and gone--

You sing 'em on Broadway

And you sing 'em in Hollywood Bowl,

And you mixed 'em up with symphonies

And you fixed 'em

So they don't sound like me.

Yep, you done taken my blues and gone.


You also took my spirituals and gone.

You put me in Macbeth and Carmen Jones

And all kinds of Swing Mikados

And in everything but what's about me--

But someday somebody'll

Stand up and talk about me,

And write about me--

Black and beautiful--

And sing about me,

And put on plays about me!

I reckon it'll be

Me myself!


Yes, it'll be me.

Thursday, April 20, 2023

April Is National Poetry Month  

This poem appeared in Opportunity: A Journal of Negro Life in September 1935.


Call of Ethiopia

Ethiopia

Lift your night-dark face,

Abyssinian

Son of Sheba's race!

Your palm trees tall

And your mountains high

Are shade and shelter

To men who die

For freedom's sake--

But in the wake of your sacrifice

May all Africa arise

With blazing eyes and night-dark face

In answer to the call of Sheba's race:


Ethiopias free!

Be like me,

All of Africa,

Arise and be free!

All you black peoples,

Be free! Be free!

Wednesday, April 19, 2023

April Is National Poetry Month

Originally entitled, “Pride,” first appeared in Opportunity: A Journal of Negro Life in December 1930.


Militant

Let all who will

Eat quietly the bread of shame.

I cannot,

Without complaining loud and long,

Tasting its bitterness in my throat,

And feeling to my very soul

It's wrong.

For honest work

You proffer me poor pay,

For honest dreams

Your spit is in my face,

And so my fist is clenched

Today--

To strike your face.




Tuesday, April 18, 2023

April Is National Poetry Month  

Rent Party Shout-out! Harlem rent parties are legendary! This poem was first published in Amsterdam News on August 20, 1930.


Rent-Party Shout: For a Lady Dancer

Whip it to a jelly!

Too bad Jim!

Mamie's got ma man--

An' I can't find him.

Shake that thing! O!

Shake it slow!

That man I love is

Mean an' low.

Pistol an' razor!

Razor an' gun!

If I sees ma man he'd

Better run--

For I'll shoot him in de shoulder,

Else I'll cut him down,

Cause I knows I can find him

When he's in de ground--

Then can't no other women

Have him layin' round.

So play it, Mr. Nappy!

Yo' music's fine!

I'm gonna kill that

Man o' mine!



Monday, April 17, 2023

April Is National Poetry Month  

Afro-American Fragment


So long,

So far away

Is Africa.

Not even memories alive

Save those that history books create,

Save those that songs

Beat back into the blood--

Beat out of blood with words sad-sung

In strange un-Negro tongue--

So long,

So far away

Is Africa.



Subdued and time-lost

Are the drums—and yet

Through some vast mist of race

There comes this song

I do not understand

This song of atavistic land,

Of bitter yearning lost

Without a place--

So long,

So far away

Is Africa's

Dark face.

Sunday, April 16, 2023

  April Is National Poetry Month

“Fire” was the name of a controversial literary magazine that was started by Langston Hughes, Zora Neale Hurston, Countee Cullen, along with five other prominent Harlem Renaissance figures. The magazine only printed one issue before the headquarters burned to the ground.


Fire

Fire,

Fire, Lord!

Fire gonna burn ma soul!



I ain't been good,

I ain't been clean--

I been stinkin', low-down, mean.



Fire,

Fire, Lord!

Fire gonna burn ma soul!



Tell me, brother,

Do you believe

If you wanta go to heaben

Got to moan an' grieve?



Fire,

Fire, Lord!

Fire gonna burn ma soul!



I been stealin'

Been tellin' lies,

Had more women

Than Pharaoh had wives.



Fire,

Fire, Lord!

Fire gonna burn ma soul!

I means Fire, Lord!

Fire gonna burn ma soul!

Saturday, April 15, 2023

  April Is National Poetry Month 


Published in May 1925, in Opportunity: A Journal of Negro Life. “The Weary Blues” won first prize in a literary contest sponsored by Opportunity: A Journal of Negro Life.


The Weary Blues


Droning a drowsy syncopated tune,

Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon,

I heard a Negro play.

Down on Lenox Avenue the other night

By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light

He did a lazy sway....

He did a lazy sway....

To the tune o' those Weary Blues.

With his ebony hands on each ivory key

He made that poor piano moan with melody.

O Blues!

Swaying to and fro on his rickety stool

He play that sad raggy tune like a musical fool.

Sweet Blues!

Coming from a black man's soul.

O Blues!

In a deep song voice with a melancholy tone

I heard that Negro sing, that old piano moan –

“Ain't got nobody in all this world,

Ain't got nobody but ma self.

I's gwine to quit ma frownin'

And put ma troubles on the shelf.”


Thump, thump, thump, went his foot on the floor.

He played a few chords then he sang some more--

“I got the Weary Blues

And I can't be satisfied.

Got the Weary Blues

And can't be satisfied--

I ain't happy no mo'

And I wish that I had died.”

And far into the night he crooned that tune.

The stars went out and so did the moon.

The singer stopped playing and went to bed

While the Weary Blues echoed through his head.

He slept like a rock or a man that's dead.




Friday, April 14, 2023

  April Is National Poetry Month 


As I Grew Older


It was a long time ago.

I have almost forgotten my dream.

But it was there then,


In front of me,

Bright like a sun--

My dream.


And then the wall rose,

Rose slowly,

Slowly,

Between me and my dream.

Rose slowly, slowly,

Dimming,


Hiding,

The light of my dream.

Rose until it touched the sky ---

The wall.


Shadow.

I am black.


I lie down in the shadow.

No longer the light of my dream before me,

Above me.

Only the thick wall.

Only the shadow.


My hands!

My dark hands!

Break through the wall!

Find my dream!
Help me shatter this darkness,

To smash this night,

To break this shadow

Into a thousand lights of sun,

Into a thousand whirling dreams

Of sun!


Thursday, April 13, 2023

  April Is National Poetry Month 

Originally entitled “Strange Hurt She Knew.” This poem was first published in The New York Herald Tribune on February 14, 1926.


Strange Hurt

In times of stormy weather

She felt queer pain

That said,

“You'll find rain better

Than shelter from the rain.”


Days filled with fiery sunshine

Strange hurt she knew

That made

Her seek the burning sunlight

Rather than the shade.


In months of snowy winter

When cozy houses hold,

She'd break down doors

To wander naked

In the cold.


Go SetaPhire Today!

NOW AVAILABLE IN PAPERBACK

Purchase Your Copy Today!

SetaPhire

Paperback Available @BarnesAndNoble.Com

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/setaphire-nicole-hammett/1133290392

Commemorating and Celebrating the life of Marcus Mosiah Garvey!

SetaPhire

The First Book In The SetaPhire Series

Quirky, Historical, Educational, and Entertaining!

Setaphire is a coming-of-age story of an awkward African American adolescent who’s gifted an unusual present on her 11th birthday. The Truth! What is this truth? Her name is not Sapphire. It’s Setaphire! What is Setaphire supposed to SET A FIRE to?

The chosen journey begins on their 11th birthday, whisked away to an unfamiliar town and an unknown academy modeled on a Black History curriculum and Marcus Garvey’s philosophies. The academy provides support and guidance. As the instructors wade the chosen through the tempestuous of self-doubt and to the realization that they are Black Beauty and Black Excellence.

    

   


                

  GO SETAPHIRE TODAY! 

Paperback Available @BarnesAndNoble.Com

Purchase Your Copy of SetaPhire: Mandela

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/setaphire-nicole-hammett/1140532426?ean=9781668587218

Commemorating and Celebrating the life of Marcus Mosiah Garvey!

SetaPhire: Mandela

What is the purpose of your life? 

What are you supposed to Setaphire to?

Mandela’s journey begins




More than Setaphire’s best friend. Born Francesca Xnonymous in Kingston, Jamaica. On Francesca's 11th birthday, she’s given the truth as a gift. Her name is not Francesca Xnonymous, it’s Mandela Xnonymous. Mandela will leave her bittersweet paradise behind and move to a foreign land to attend a prestigious elite academy.

Modeled on a Black History curriculum and Marcus Garvey's philosophies. The Academy provides support and guidance as the instructors wade the chosen through the tempestuous of self-doubt to the realization that they are Black Beauty and Black Excellence!

              GO SETAPHIRE TODAY!

Purchase Your Copy of BLACK CROSS Today!

Paperback Now Available @BarnesAndNoble.Com

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/black-cross-nicole-hammett/1140532427?ean=9781668593448

BLACK CROSS

Stage Play by Nicole Hammett

Cover Illustrated by Nicole Hammett



A tie-in with the SETAPHIRE SERIES!

BLACK CROSS

The New Negro Movement. Back to Africa Movement. Harlem 1921. Home of the Black family. Black Cross tells the story of the becoming of Alice-Paul Black. Wife of Rufus Black, mother of Willie and Junior Black, daughter of Mamie Johnson.

Born a dark-skinned Negro woman. 

Disallowed the right to dream.

Black Cross tells the story of Alice-Paul Black’s willingness to no longer accept who her husband allows her to be. Who her mother tells her she needs to be. Who the world says that she is. It took a long time for Alice-Paul Black to find her voice. She’s going to tell you who she ain’t.


Wednesday, April 12, 2023

  April Is National Poetry Month 

“Minstrel Man” was first published in The Crisis Magazine in December 1925.


Minstrel Man


Because my mouth

Is wide with laughter

And my throat

Is deep with song,

You do not think

I suffer after

I have held my pain

So long?


Because my mouth

Is wide with laughter,

You do not hear

My inner cry?

Because my feet

Are gay with dancing,

You do not know

I die?

Tuesday, April 11, 2023

   April Is National Poetry Month


Thematically interwoven with his play “Mulatto” and the short story “Father and Son.” Cross was first published in The Crisis magazine in December 1925.


Cross


My old man's a white old man

And my old mother's black.

If I ever cursed my white old man

I take my curses back.


If ever I cursed my black old mother

And wished she were in hell,

I'm sorry for that evil wish

And now I wish her well.


My old man died in a fine big house.

My ma died in a shack.

I wonder where I'm gonna die,

Being neither white nor black?