Langston Hughes
James Mercer Langston Hughes
Background
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Born: February 1,
1902 in Joplin,
Missouri
Born to the parents of
Carrie and James
Hughes
When his parents
divorced he was sent
to live with his
grandmother: Mary
Langston.
Langston’s Childhood
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While living with his grandmother Langston was taught a
great deal of racial pride.
Living with his grandmother he attended school and
gained a passion for writing.
After his grandmothers death not getting along with his
father in Toluca, Mexico, his mother made him come live
with her in Lincoln, Illinois.
Soon after moving to Lincoln, his family moved to
Cleveland, Ohio.
In Cleveland Langston’s passion for poetry grew even
more.
Langston’s Beginning
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In the 8th grade was when Langston’s writing
really began.
He wrote his first verse of poetry and was
named the class poet.
Later during Langston’s high school life he
became the publisher for the school
newspaper the Monthly.
His English teacher inspired by his writing
introduced Langston to poets: Carl Sandburg,
Walt Whitman, and Paul Dunbar which
became his inspiration.
Visits with Langston’s Father
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During the summer
going into his senior
year, Langston went
to visit his father.
Not getting along with
his father during his
whole summer.
Langston’s visit
contributed to his
maturity as a writer
and as a man.
Visits with Langston’s
Father
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After Langston graduated
from high school he went to
visit his father again to ask
him to help pay for college.
On the train ride to Toluca,
Mexico he began to ponder
the past and future. Finally
making all his thoughts into
his poem “The Negro
Speaks of Rivers”.
After the visit with his
father, his father agreed to
pay for college as long as
he studied engineering.
College Life
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When Langston went to college he only stayed
in college for a year, while finding Harlem.
After discovering Harlem, Langston’s writing
became inspired by everything around him.
Langston first volume autobiography “The Big
Sea” gave a crucial 1st-person point of view of
the era.
Langston’s writing increased tremendously and
he wrote ideas down when ever one came to his
mind.
Odd Jobs
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Langston couldn’t just
start out with a career
in writing and become
rich and famous.
Langston had to work
many different jobs to
just make it by.
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Assistant Cook
Launderer
Busboy
Traveled to Africa and
Europe working as a
Seaman
Background to Langston’s
Poetry
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Growing up with racial pride Langston expressed a
great deal of putting his own life experiences and
common experiences of black America into his
poetry.
He wanted to show people the stories of his people in
ways that reflected their actual culture, including their
suffering, their love of music, laughter, and language.
Langston used rhythms of the jazz and blues, which
set his music apart from all other writers.
This allowed Langston to develop a new rhythmic
free verse.
With his style of writing and the sharing of his ideas
Langston’s second volume of poetry: “Fine Clothes to
the Jew”, wasn’t liked by the public.
Langston becomes an
inspiration
Not Just a Poet
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Children’s Books
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Autobiographies
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Plays
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Lyrics
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Even though
Langston did express
himself through all his
work, he did follow
guidelines when
writing plays and
lyrics for other people.
Towards the End
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Langston had always had an issue with
money, but after writing lyrics for the
Broadway musical “Street Scene”, he was
finally able to by a house in Harlem.
Langston became recognized for his
poetry in his later years and was named
“Poet Laureate of the Negro Race”.
Langston Hughes Death
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With all that he has
accomplished Langston
was said to be one of the
most original poets of all
African American poets.
On May 22, 1967
Langston Hughes died
after having abdominal
surgery.
He was loved and missed
by all who knew him and
who read his work.
I Hear America Singing By Walt Whitman
I, Too, Sing America By Langston Hughes
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.
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.
--Dream Variations
--Harlem (A Dream Deferred)
To fling my arms wide
In some place of the sun,
To whirl and to dance
Till the white day is done.
Then rest at cool evening
Beneath a tall tree
While night comes on gently,
Dark like meThat is my dream!
What happens to a dream deferred?
To fling my arms wide
In the face of the sun,
Dance! Whirl! Whirl!
Till the quick day is done.
Rest at pale evening...
A tall, slim tree...
Night coming tenderly
Black like me.
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?
Or does it explode?
-- Negro Speaks of Rivers
I've known rivers:
I've known rivers ancient as the world and older
than the flow
of human blood in human veins.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were
young.
I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to
sleep.
I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids
above it.
I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe
Lincoln went
down to New Orleans, and I've seen its
muddy bosom turn
all golden in the sunset.
I've known rivers:
Ancient, dusky rivers.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
-- Theme for English B
The instructor said,
Go home and write
a page tonight.
And let that page come out of you-Then, it will be true.
I wonder if it's that simple?
I am twenty-two, colored, born in Winston-Salem.
I went to school there, then Durham, then here
to this college on the hill above Harlem.
I am the only colored student in my class.
The steps from the hill lead down into Harlem,
through a park, then I cross St. Nicholas,
Eighth Avenue, Seventh, and I come to the Y,
the Harlem Branch Y, where I take the elevator
up to my room, sit down, and write this page:
It's not easy to know what is true for you or me
at twenty-two, my age. But I guess I'm what
I feel and see and hear, Harlem, I hear you:
hear you, hear me--we two--you, me, talk on this page.
(I hear New York, too.) Me--who?
Well, I like to eat, sleep, drink, and be in love.
I like to work, read, learn, and understand life.
I like a pipe for a Christmas present,
or records--Bessie, bop, or Bach.
I guess being colored doesn't make me not like
the same things other folks like who are other races.
So will my page be colored that I write?
Being me, it will not be white.
But it will be
a part of you, instructor.
You are white-yet a part of me, as I am a part of you.
That's American.
Sometimes perhaps you don't want to be a part of me.
Nor do I often want to be a part of you.
But we are, that's true!
As I learn from you,
I guess you learn from me-although you're older--and white-and somewhat more free.
This is my page for English B.