The Harlem RenaissanceAnonymous

The Harlem Renaissance- The beats, the soundsThe artists painting.The writers poundOn their desk; lostAnd confused,Just searching for someInspiration-Some light, some hope,Some sensation.

Then,It comes to them.An idea,A thought,A trend that is to be Followed, pursued,To be fed, to bloom,To art,To culture,To grow and consume.

The Harlem Renaissance-The work, the pain,The men and women,Who toyed, who slaved,Who were barely paid.All the toil, the sorrow,The strife and discord,Waiting for the morrow.

Do they know thatInside the housesAnd apartmentsAnd brownstonesLive the men,The women,Who,Years from now,Will be giving thanksAnd praise?But now slave awayOn the typewriter,The canvas,

On their various instrumentsUntil those years from now.

The Harlem Renaissance-A moment,A snapshot,A fragment,Of time.Of great sadnessGreat joy,Great life, As well as death,And great deeds,By great men.Oh, the Harlem Renaissance.