Edward Perry - 2 Short Poems (1927)

Forgotten Poems #50: Pride Month Specials!

Colors & Life (1927)

 
              Colors

       Blacks, browns,
       Tans and yellows;
       Like flowers
       We're a race
       Of numerous colors.

 
              Life

       Birth,
       Love,
       Sickness,
       Then death.
       We toil for tomorrow;
       Leave our loved ones in sorrow.
 

Perry, Edward (p. 1927, etc.)
P: The Messenger (1927), etc.

Broadway dancer, actor, artist, and poet. Likely in a relationship with poet and anthologist Countee Cullen for a time; “Edward, May these poor rhymes when read by you borrow light from the greater glory of that perfect poem which is our friendship. Sincerely, Countee.” (inscribed in a Perry's copy of Cullens' book Color, 1925) Cullen also dedicated the poem 'More Than A Fool's Song' (from Copper Sun, 1927) to Perry.

Another Pride Month Special! There are very few references to Perry outside of his relationship with Cullen, and none to his poetry, though I did find the following announcement: “The first independent exhibition of the work of a group of young Negro artists was presented by Wallace Thurman in New York from April 6 through April 10. The exhibit included portraits, sculpture, drawings and batiks by the following artists: Aaron Douglas, Richard Reid, Clifton Hill, Leon Noyes, Edward Perry, William Songers, Eife Mason, Richard Bruce, Gray Johnson, Richard Good.” (Opportunity, 1927)

 
              More Than A Fool's Song
                     (To Edward Perry)
                            Countee Cullen

       Go look for beauty where you least
       Expect to hear her hive;
       Regale your belly with a feast
       Of hunger till you thrive.

       For honest treatment seek the thief;
       For truth consult the liar;
       Court pleasure in the halls of grief;
       Find smoothness on a briar.

       The worth impearled in chastity
       Is known best of the harlot,
       And courage throws her panoply
       On many a native varlet.

       In Christian practice those who move
       By symbols strange to us
       May reckon clearer of His love
       Than we who own His cross.

       The world's a curious riddle thrown
       Water-wise from heaven's cup;
       The souls we think are hurtling down
       Perhaps are climbing up.
 

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