"Singing these Songs of Freedom"
Free Freedom Free
By Albert Dépas
Bleeding through my soul
wounded in my spirit
while breathing through
broken bones,
I am left only with hope.
Free Freedom Free
My soul knows bondage,
my spirit has endured….
now my bones roar –
Free Freedom Free
When I am gone, let my bones
be a pillar of strength,
my soul a river of determination
my spirit the emblem of courage
Free Freedom Free
Albert Dépas (copyright 2020)
Brood of the Eagle
By Unknown Native American
What’s that aroma in the air, that seems so deep and wide?
Why, it’s the lovely smell of Freedom, and sweet American Pride.
It didn’t come from nowhere, it’s been in the air so long,
But it’s only now and again, that the scent becomes so strong.
As if an apple pie, coolin’ off on a window sill,
Or fat and juicy hot dogs, cookin’ on the grill,
The smell just grabs your nose, and the hunger hits you hard.
Your patriotism awakens, when there’s a stranger in your yard.
But the Children of the Eagle, grow stronger every day,
Because an eagle feeds its young, ’til the hunger goes away.
So Justice will be served, by the Red, the White, and Blue,
‘Cause this picnic called “America”, was made for me and you.
Source: http://nativeamericanencyclopedia.com/native-american-poetry-brood-the-eagl/.entry-content
I, Too
Langston Hughes, 1902 – 1967
I, too, sing America.
I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.
Tomorrow, I’ll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody’ll dare Say to me, “Eat in the kitchen,” Then.
Besides, They’ll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed—
I, too, am America.
From The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes, published by Knopf and Vintage Books. Copyright © 1994 by the Estate of Langston Hughes. All rights reserved. Used by permission of Harold Ober Associates Incorporated.
https://www.poets.org/poetsorg
I Hear America Singing
Walt Whitman, 1819 – 1892
I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,
Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong, The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work,
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck,
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands,
The wood-cutter’s song, the ploughboy’s on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown,
The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or of the girl sewing or washing,
Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else,
The day what belongs to the day—at night the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,
Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.
https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/i-hear-america-singing