Thursday, 11 September 2014


     Afro-American poet, essayist and social activist, he was arguably one of the most well-known American poets of the past century. Hughes, along with other black artists and intellectuals, is best known for his work during the Harlem Renaissance. This period in American social and cultural history is known as such because during the "Roaring 20s" and the "Jazz Age" of the 1930s that followed, Harlem became a Mecca for new ideas and a new creativity among blacks which garnered the attention of the entire world. At this time, there was an explosive resurgence in creativity and vitality within the Afro-American community which produced not only some of the most influential literature, dance, and visual art in American history, but which served as a testament to an exciting reawakening of the African American culture and overall spirit of cultural pride and awareness. His poetry is an exposition of what we can define as "Poetical Blues" or, simply put, "Blues Poetry".
 
Jazz and blues were the music of the day for Langston Hugues. As art forms, both are quintessentially American and the contributions made by Afro-American performers and musicians would have been something with which Hughes was very much in tune. The lyrical structure of blues music lends itself well to uncomplicated lyrics that tell of life experiences common to people in general. The blues were born out of the life struggles of its creators. Langston Hughes transformed blues music and lyrics into a poetic art form which has remained unparalleled well into the 21st century. The author's blues and jazz poetry draws on his ability to write for the masses while retaining elements of more standard written poetic form.

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 played 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.
WAKE

Tell all my mourners
To mourn in red�
Cause there ain't no sense
In my bein' dead.
TOO BLUE




I got those sad old weary blues.


I don�t know where to turn.

I don�t know where to go. 


Nobody cares about you 

When you sink so low.


What shall I do? 

What shall I say? 

Shall I take a gun and 

Put myself away?


I wonder if 

One bullet would do? 

Hard as my head is, 

It would probably take two.


But I ain�t go
Neither bullet nor gun� 

And I�m too blue
To look for one.



LATE LAST NIGHT BLUES






Late Last Night 

I
Set on my steps and cried. 

Wasn�t nobody gone, 

Neither had nobody died.

I was cryin� 

Cause you broke my heart in two. 

You looked at me cross-eyed 

And broke my heart in two -

So I was cryin� 

On account of
You!