Lewis Alexander - 4 Short Poems & Some Haiku (1923-28)

Forgotten Poems #87 || Reissue #4

    
              —: Dream Song :—

       Walk with the sun,
       Dance at high noon;
       And dream when night falls black;
       But when the stars
       Vie with the moon,
       Then call the lost dream back.
    

    
              —: Durham Streets :—

       Feet
       F-e-e-t

       Faces
       F-a-c-e-s
       
       Bodies
       B-o-d-i-e-s

       Tobacco scented
       B-O-D-I-E-S

       The Durham streets at dusk
       Are swarmed with color.

       It is the moving panorama
       Painted by the factory artist
       Each dusk.
    

    
              —: Night :—

       The moonlight:
       Juice flowing from an over-ripe pomegranate
       bursting
 
       The cossack-crested palm trees:
       motionless
 
       The leopard spotted shade:
       inciting fear
 
            silence seeds sown . . .
    

      
              —: Tree Meditation :—

       How very like a tree
       Alas am I
       And like to bursting blossoms
       Are my thoughts.
       Some will remain upon the tree
       And fruit
       And others fall
       And drift far on the stream.

       For those that drift
       There shall be no returning;
       But those which fruit
       Shall burst and scatter seed.
       The seed shall stand
       A flowering tree again
       Each generation stronger than the last.

       I’m but the tree!
       Would I were soil or water
       I could not face the agony of death—
       Eternally to mother tree and seedling
       And breathe the beauty of the blossom time.

       Being the tree
       I needs must face the shedding
       Bear the fruit which bursts
       And flowers which fall;
       Standing helpless see them drift down stream
       To sea—
       Where there shall be no coming back!
     

     
              —: Haiku :—

                        ❖

       Like cherry blossoms
       Dancing with the passing wind—
       My shattered hopes.

                        ❖

       A wood violet
       Alone in the spacious hut
       Worshipping the sun.

                        ❖

       The bird is alone
       Like a dot on a blue page:
       Do not set red sun.

                        ❖

       While trimming the plants
       I saw some flowers drooping—
       I am a flower.
      

Lewis G. Alexander (1898-1945) was born in Washington D.C. and attended Howard University, and later the University of Pennsylvania, both known for their support of African American students. Alexander started writing poetry at the age of 19, and was one of the earliest non-Japanese poets to specialise in English-language tanka and hokku, drawing on the work of John Gould Fletcher, and Yone Noguchi, alongside translators like W.G. Aston and Basil Hall Chamberlain. Alexander would go on to publish tanka, hokku, and ‘new’ verse— both rhymed and 'free'—in numerous well-known arts and poetry magazines throughout the 1920s, including The Crisis, Opportunity, and The Messenger; and was a prominent member of the Harlem renaissance, co-founding the journal Fire!! with Langston Hughes, Zora Neale Hurston, Aaron Douglas, John P. Davis, Gwendolyn Bennett, and Countee Cullen, et al.

Alexander was also a playwright, director, and actor. At university he joined the Howard Players, and then the Washington Play-Writers Circle, directing the Randall Community Center Players and the Ira Aldridge Players of the Grover Cleveland School. During the 1922-1923 seasons Alexander joined the Ethiopian Art Theatre group, appearing in productions of Oscar Wilde's Salome, and William Shakespeare's The Comedy of Errors.

Forgotten Poets Press is very proud to present the first ever book-length collection of Lewis Alexander’s poetry, which otherwise has languished in back-issues of poetry magazines and journals, for almost 100 years; with beautifully restored illustrations and decorations by Aaron Douglas. Available now in paperback ($US12.99) and Kindle (US$4.99).

   
         —: After Lewis Alexander :—
                     By Dick Whyte

       at the gates to heaven
       the poets stand
       —renounce your songs
       and ye shall enter

       never, the poets sing—
       would you ask
       such a thing
       of a river that flows
       to the ocean?

       when empires fall
       as do they all
       nothing remains
       but our word
      

Forgotten Poets Presents:

Forgotten Poems, a living anthology of obscure and out-of-print poetry from the late-1800s and early-1900s. Explore the archives:

More African American poetry . . .

More poems about the moon . . .

More poems about trees . . .

More English Language Tanka & Haiku . . .

More poems about the moon . . .