02.20.08
Black History Month: A Time to Honor Writers with Soul
In a recent series of mini-lessons, we’ve learned about Word Choice — the ability to pick the perfect words to fit your message. We’ve talked about dead verbs, sensory details, figurative language, using a thesaurus, and avoiding overused words like good, fun, said, and got. The thing is… writers who celebrate word choice do so using voice and what I like to call “soul” in their writing.
As we wrap up Black History Month, I can’t think of a better way to honor the achievements of African Americans than to listen and discuss the works of two very talented African American writers — Maya Angelou and Langston Hughes. Both of these writers write with passion and soul, and they show that the perfect word choice comes naturally when you write from the heart.
Listen and watch these two videos, the first a video interpretation of Langston Hughes “Dreams” poem, and the second a narrative video using Maya Angelou’s “Still I Rise.” As you listen, think about what makes each of these pieces stand out.
For up to 10 extra credit points, answer one or more of the following questions using the comment button below.
~What makes these pieces stand out?
~What words or devices do the authors use to convey their feelings and thoughts in writing?
~Now that we’ve studied word choice, do you notice anything about the words these authors have chosen to use?
~Share your thoughts about these poems. What did you think?
~Did these authors give you ideas or techniques you would like to use in your writing?
Langston Hughes “Dreams”
Dreams
By Langston Hughes 
Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.
Maya Angelou “Still I Rise”
Still I Rise
by Maya Angelou
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.
Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s miraculously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
