The Best Fluffy Pancakes recipe you will fall in love with. Full of tips and tricks to help you make the best pancakes.
That kid’s my buddy,still and yetI don’t see him much.He works downtown for Twelve a week.Has to give his mother Ten—she says he can havethe other Twoto pay his carfare, buy a suit,coat, shoes,anything he wants out of it.
Said the lady, Can you do what my other man can’t do— That islove me, daddy— and feed me, too? FigurineDe-dop!
Work?I don’t have to work.I don’t have to do nothingbut eat, drink, stay black, and die.This little old furnished room’sso small I can’t whip a catwithout getting fur in my mouthand my landlady’s so oldher features is all run togetherand…
I likes a womansix or eight and ten years older’n myself. I don’t fool with these young girls. Young girl’ll say, Daddy, I want so-and-so. I needs this, that, and the other. But a old woman’ll say, Honey, what does…
That little Negro’s married and got a kid. Why does he keep on foolin’ around Marie? Marie’s my sister—not married to me— But why does he keep on foolin’ around Marie? Why don’t she get a boy-friendI can understand-some decent…
When I was a chile we used to play, “One—two—buckle any shoe!” and things like that. But now, Lord, listen at them little varmints! By what sends the white kids I ain’t sent: I know I can’t be President.There is…
Seven ladiesand seventeen gentlemen at the Elks Club Lounge planning planning a parade: Grand Marshal in his white suitwill lead it.Cadillacs with dignitaries will precede it.And behind will come with band and drumon foot. . . on foot. . .…
Consider me,A colored boy,Once sixteen,Once five, onee three,Once nobody,Now me.Before mePapa, mama,Grandpa, grandma,So on backTo originalPa, (A capital letter there, He Being Mystery.) Consider me,Colored boy,Downtown at eight,Sometimes working late,Overtime payTo sport away,Or save,Or give my SugarFor the thingsShe needs.…
I am the American heartbreak—Rock on which FreedomStumps its toe—The great mistakeThat JamestownMade long ago.
For the Negro Nurse there’s been no easy way.The bars have been high, the day a long dayWhen the hand that could tend the sick or the hurtMust also combat Jim Crow’s dirt. No caution, no gloves, no antiseptic, no…