James Baldwin

The giver (for Berdis) Related Poem Content Details

If the hope of givingis to love the living,the giver risks madnessin the act of giving.Some such lesson I seemed to seein the faces that surrounded me.Needy and blind, unhopeful, unlifted,what gift would give them the gift to be gifted?The giver is no less adriftthan those who are clamouring for the gift.If they cannot claim…

The lady is a tramp

a lampThe lady is a sighta mighta lightthe lady devastatedan alley or tworeverberated through the valleywhich leads to me, and youthe lady is the appleof God’s eye:He’s cool enough about itbut He tends to strut a littlewhen she passes bythe lady is a wonderdaughter of the thundersmashing cageslegistlating rageswith the voice of agessinging us through.

In a strange house,

in a strange town,a very strange meis waiting for you.Nowit is very early in the morning.The silence is loud.The baby is walking aboutwith his foaming bottle,making strange soundsand deciding, after all,to be my friend.Youarrive tonight.How dull time is!How empty—and yet,since I am sitting here,lying here,walking up and down here,waiting,I seethat time’s cruel abilityto make one…

I always wonder

while they, the pink and alabaster pragmatists,are containingRussiaand defining and re-defining and re-aligningChina,nobly restraining themselves, meanwhile,from blowing up that earthwhich they have alreadyblasphemed into dung:the gentle, wide-eyed, cheerfulladies, and their men,nostalgic for the noble cause of Vietnam,nostalgic for noble causes,aching, nobly, to wade through the blood of savages—ah—!Uncas shall never leave the reservation,except to purchase…

Lord,

think about it, please,a little?Donot get carried awayby the sound of falling water,the marvelous lighton the falling water.Iam beneath that water.It falls with great forceand the lightBlindsme to the light.