T. Amour's Poet of the Week - Alice Dunbar Nelson

In the midst of my hectic schedule lately, I have taken some time to dive into some great poetry. I often find myself drawn to poets from the Harlem Renaissance era, and my poet of choice this week played a prominent position in this pivotal movement.

Alice Dunbar-Nelson, the former wife of Paul Lawrence Dunbar (also an accomplished poet), was born free in the mid 1870s and was a fearless female in a time where fear was prevalent. She was a vocal siren for African-American rights, despite her mixed heritage which made her "not black enough" for her community but not fully accepted by the Caucasian community. 

When most Americans of all races didn't attend college, she received a degree. When most women didn't work outside the home, she did. She was determined to force her way into the male-dominated journalism field. And although she face her share of troubles, she never lost sight of what she wanted and who she was. A fearless female indeed!

My poem of choice by her this week is a collection of stanzas entitled "Impressions". These "mini-poems" briefly explore Dunbar-Nelsons sentiments about basic human emotions and concepts.I honestly don't have any earth-shaking revelations about this poem. It speaks for itself very clearly! Enjoy :)


"Impressions" by Alice Dunbar-Nelson

THOUGHT.
A swift, successive chain of things,
That flash, kaleidoscope-like, now in, now out,
Now straight, now eddying in wild rings,
No order, neither law, compels their moves,
But endless, constant, always swiftly roves.

HOPE.
Wild seas of tossing, writhing waves,
A wreck half-sinking in the tortuous gloom;
One man clings desperately, while Boreas raves,
And helps to blot the rays of moon and star,
Then comes a sudden flash of light, which gleams on shores afar.


LOVE.
A bed of roses, pleasing to the eye,
Flowers of heaven, passionate and pure,
Upon this bed the youthful often lie,
And pressing hard upon its sweet delight,
The cruel thorns pierce soul and heart, and cause a woeful blight.

DEATH.
A traveller who has always heard
That on this journey he some day must go, 
Yet shudders now, when at the fatal word
He starts upon the lonesome, dreary way.
The past, a page of joy and woe,—the future, none can say.

FAITH.
Blind clinging to a stern, stone cross,
Eyes shut, ears closed to earth's drear dross,
Immovable, serene, the world away
From thoughts—the mind uncaring for another day.
Or it may be of frailer make;
Eyes shut, ears closed to earth's drear dross,
Immovable, serene, the world away
From thoughts—the mind uncaring for another day.


I hope you all have a wonderful week! I look forward to posting more poetry about Alice Dunbar-Nelson this week and feature other poets from the past and present as well.


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Love Poetry!!

-T. Amour