SO GOOD. I love this imagery utilizing the parallels between hell and the church and how white men forcing their religion on POC was such an atrocity.

Wherever your feet lands it seems you can't escape them.

Not just here, but the strong dichotomy presented in the "you" vs "them" mentality is so effective in this piece. Making the distinction between the two draws attention to how stark the differences were and still are.

What? Carl Sandburg, the poet?

Didn't know where to highlight to annotate, but such an interesting contrast that in the first and third sections of the poem, it's written to sound almost like a song. Very lyrical and has a consistent rhythm, meter. And in the second and fourth sections, it's a narrative style describing explicitly what's going on around the speaker. Is this to create the affect of bringing the audience into the world? To make them feel as though we too are listening to Ma Rainey with other patrons?

The last three lines here really hit hard. The title "Harlem" connecting the people who live within this area as well as time period shows how close they are to the edge, where they must make a decision to lie down and let themselves be walked over, or to stand up and fight back and reclaim what is rightfully theirs.

The rhyme scheme in this poem is strong as well as the meter, making for an actual bluesy sounding poem. The musical value to this mirrors and mimics the sorrow and pain felt throughout the community and is an effective use of connections to pull the audience into the poets world and see things as they see them.

Reclaiming the title of American within this poem forces racists and oppressors to face their crimes and accept people as they are, either accept or face riots. The defiance in this poem and use of line breaks helps to build the speakers power.

This line is emblematic not only of the poem as a whole, but as what the poem is conveying as well. The strong cultural link between African Americans, and Africans in general, and rivers is prevalent throughout history and literature, and this poem shows the migration that was chosen for them when their people were enslaved and forced into America. The rivers of their ancestors are just as much theirs, as the Mississippi is as well.

If they have turned their backs on their own people, then it seems to this artist that their own disapproval matters just as much as the whites; meaning not at all.

The contrast of community here to the previous community is astounding. The vibrance and sheer amount of life and joy within these people is tenfold compared to those who try their best to "fit in" with the whites. Embracing who they are as individuals allows them to be free in their lives and in their work.

This entire paragraph is unnerving and saddening, the white washing and need for conformity within the community is so prevalent and accepted, pressured not only by white people looking in, but shamed into by the people around them. The normalization of this is horrifying.

These sets of lines feel as though the author is utilizing stream of consciousness through there speaker; who can't decided whether or not to end the letter.

What will finish? The poem?

this line is so striking to me because in a seemingly jumbled, incoherent, non-urgent piece; this line stands out as a firm statement to something or someone that could be frantic. The speaker, or the poem, or the author herself is firm and unwavering in it, and knows where and who they are.

the explicit description of dead and decaying trees that have lost all signs of life is juxtaposed to the short rebirth of them into the new world. Their death is more meaningful and beautiful than their lives.

exemplifies the inability to have constraint over oneself, the need to take what is not ours is justified when we explain how grand the item was.

This poem is so visceral and to the point, the images within it are uncomfortable; it forces us to look at what we've done as a nation, we cannot hide our eyes

interesting metaphorical question--do people regret when they put their guard up and start to disallow others into their lives?

feels like the archetypal trope when a character's pride or lust for power causes their demise and downfall--he is abandoned in death because he abandoned others in life.

The word choice of "would" as opposed to "could" in this line is so interesting to me. The entire poem, which has a consistent rhyme scheme by the way of ababcdcdefefgg, talks about how love is not a life or death matter--and the ending lines make it seem as though the speaker is willing to give love up for food, memory, or even peace. The use of "would" instead of "could" gives insight to the fact that the speaker realizes it is within their power to trade the love they receive for something more tangible, they would choose not to. If anything, this cancels out everything the poem has been saying and proves that although the speaker would be able to forgo love, they would choose not to. It's incredibly moving and loving.

Haha! SO funny--so ironic. It's dignified in the industry to die with monetary wealth, surrounded by those who don't really care about you, than to die without fame, without monetary wealth, but with many who knew and loved you. Rich in materialism vs rich in life.

The use of the point blank descriptor "white" is changed in the last two lines here with "snow" and "paper" white changes from purity and life, to surrender or death. Great symbolism

The use of the past tense "doubted" along with the ending stanza leads me to believe that the speaker is reflecting on the choice they made so long ago speaking about taking the road no one else has taken was beneficial, however earlier in the poem, they note that the two paths had been worn "about the same," if this is true then why and how did the speaker choose a road? Wouldn't they have been the same?

Interesting how this can parallel a certain group of people in the United States today, they believe that there is a divide between people, and that each person carries the same amount of burden. However, each person is not born equal. Some are born into wealth, into prejudice, into a white, straight, male body; and some are born into a body that the aforementioned stifle.

The idea of waring "scarred hopes" as armor????? SO EFFING COOL. Man, he's got great imagery, so simple, but packs such a punch.

I've really got no clue what to make of this poem, I'm a bit lost, but these three lines are so stunning that I couldn't scroll without highlighting them. The images, personification, and metaphors that Robinson is using here all just works in magic.

Beginning with this sequence of short actions falling into one another, and continuing on to the end of the sentence, we see how the structure of the poem mirrors the lifespan of the speaker. Once the age of 60 has been met, most of life's difficulties such as raising children and working are over, time begins to slip through fingers, days are shorter, and things become routine as you move through your second half of life.

This is something I often find myself ruminating on. People often ask you what the use is in keeping track of all the damage, injustices, natural disasters, and terrorist attacks in the world. Who does it help to keep track of all the evil? But the thing is, history repeats itself, and if we keep ourselves uninformed of what's going on, it will only persist. Knowledge is power; and i'd rather be depressedly in-the-know, than living in ignorant bliss.

The use of the terms "seeds" in the context of this poem brings the audience into such a microscopic level of the story that's being told, and in large, shrinking us in nature itself and giving a bit of perspective. We're so small, apart of something so large.

The irony in her husband being a physician hindering her ability to heal is supremely ironic; women at the time were found to be crazy whenever the topic of mental illness arose

In using his "twoness" he must embrace it and teach others rather than facing the challenge and turning his back. Knowledge is power, ignorance is death.

The dichotomy he feels inside never truly allows him to be one thing or another.

Wow. absolutely stunning, incredible imagery and metaphor here--near speechless. The use of having his white peers be his prison shows that although "they" may try to be sympathetic and try to prove that they understand what he goes through, in and of itself they lock and bind him into a preconceived stereotype without letting him even speak. It's oppressing and defeating.

The use of the universal "they" opens us up to a myriad of different potential obstacles the speaker encounters in life, some being more problematic than others; but all with one thing in common--he doesn't care to specify who they are, in a sense it's a power hold, in withholding their identity, he's showing them that their criticisms can't affect him.

He's found something worth rivaling the dynamo, but I'm confused as to how we got here, and just how exactly her and the dynamo relate?

Repetition of "sequence" in this sequence of conclusions he comes to leads to him finding something that finally breaks through for him, just when it looks as though he's lost all meaning in what he's been searching for.

Interesting that in trying to make sense of something, he only loses himself further and therefore comes closer to understanding it--sort of like the extended religious metaphor throughout the piece; in trying to make sense of religion or God in the physical world, you understand it less, but believe and follow it more. (If you're into religion, that is.)

Confused as a whole as to what is going on in the narrative at this point; in Langley trying to teach Adams, Adams is simply absorbing the information and is unable to apply it, while Langley, the teacher, seems to be ignorant as to what is going on in his pupil's head.

The first stanza of the poem is so indicative of lower, working class in America; the diction used along with the alliteration of "burlap...bearing...black bean" grit your mind and tongue as they run through your mouth, leaving an uncomfortable taste of unrest. The upper class in this case is feeding the lion stirring in the lower class, with every slur and injustice handed down, the fire and fury growing within each lower class person. The upper class will be their own undoing.

Shows that it really doesn't matter the destination, the journey is what matters, and even then few to none care about what that actually is for some people--and the struggles they endure.