#Claude McKay

[fairiedance]

This poem, If We Must Die by Claude McKay was written during the Red Summer, 1919. It has since been adopted to support many groups facing persecution, such as the Palestinians. I paired it with a field of poppies and a faint keffiyeh pattern. I made this one last December and haven't shared it in a while so I thought I'd do so again now. You can find it here.

As always EVERYTHING I EARN from my shop is for my best friend, a Palestinian grad student living in America. The money is sent home to support his friends and family in Palestine and around the rest of the Levant who are being hurt directly and/or financially by the attacks on Gaza, the raids and economic devastation in the West Bank and the collateral damage in surrounding countries.

Here are a couple example products (shirts, sticker, framed print):

Below you can see some of my other designs. I try to incorporate a wide variety of styles so there's something for everyone, making use of various open source assets such as vintage prints and NASA photography. I have stickers, clothes, mugs, notebooks, magnets and all sorts of other things available with the designs below and many more.

You can find all my work in my shop HERE. You can add filters by product (stickers, clothes, etc) on the left or go here to browse by design. Here is the sample of my work:

Thank you so much to everyone who has helped out! We really appreciate the support and hope you are enjoying your purchases.

[typewriter-worries]

I'll Eat You Up, I Love You So

The Embrace II, Ron Hicks | Henry and June: From “A Journal of Love,” The Unexpurgated Diary (1931-1932) of Anaïs Nin, Henry Miller (@theoptia) | the night belongs to lovers, Ilaria Ratti | Dark. Sweet.: New & Selected Poems, Linda Hogan (@feral-ballad) | Intimacy, Angelica Alzona | Shame is an Ocean I Swim Across, Mary Lambert (@synbeam) | The Kiss, Edvard Munch | Summer Morn in New Hampshire, Claude McKay

[sasha4books]

Happy Black Poetry Day

5 Black Poets on the TBR List:

Maya Angelou

Dudley Randall

Amanda Gorman

Claude McKay

Nikki Giovanni

[lionofchaeronea]

And all things were transfigured in the day But me, whom radiant beauty could not move; For you, more wonderful, were far away, And I was blind with hunger for your love. -Claude McKay, "Summer Morn in New Hampshire"

[readyforevolution]

If We Must Die by Claude McKay

If we must die, let it not be like hogs

Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot,

While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs,

Making their mock at our accursèd lot.

If we must die, O let us nobly die,

So that our precious blood may not be shed

In vain; then even the monsters we defy

Shall be constrained to honor us though dead!

O kinsmen! we must meet the common foe!

Though far outnumbered let us show us brave,

And for their thousand blows deal one death-blow!

What though before us lies the open grave?

Like men we’ll face the murderous, cowardly pack,

Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!

[black-whole]

Our Souls Have Grown Deep Like Rivers - Black Poets Read their work

2 x CD, Compilation, 2000

[theshatterednotes]

Claude McKay, American poet

[houseofpurplestars]

If We Must Die

BY CLAUDE MCKAY

If we must die, let it not be like hogs

Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot,

While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs,

Making their mock at our accursèd lot.

If we must die, O let us nobly die,

So that our precious blood may not be shed

In vain; then even the monsters we defy

Shall be constrained to honor us though dead!

O kinsmen! we must meet the common foe!

Though far outnumbered let us show us brave,

And for their thousand blows deal one death-blow!

What though before us lies the open grave?

Like men we’ll face the murderous, cowardly pack,

Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!

[ineedtoreadmorepoetry]

Outcast by Claude McKay

For the dim regions whence my fathers came My spirit, bondaged by the body, longs. Words felt, but never heard, my lips would frame; My soul would sing forgotten jungle songs. I would go back to darkness and to peace, But the great western world holds me in fee, And I may never hope for full release While to its alien gods I bend my knee. Something in me is lost, forever lost, Some vital thing has gone out of my heart, And I must walk the way of life a ghost Among the sons of earth, a thing apart; For I was born, far from my native clime, Under the white man's menace, out of time.

[brechtian]

we swore not to die on the kitchen floor

“Heel Turn 2” - The Mountain Goats / Book of Salt - Monique Truong / “If We Must Die” - Claude McKay / To The Lighthouse - Virginia Woolf

[obsessioncollector]

Speaking of Claude McKay! At one point I knew this classic by heart... I did a project on him in middle school and I think his Wikipedia article was the first time I came across the term "bisexual" 😊 A multifaceted legend!

[victusinveritas]

If We Must Die by Claude McKay.

If We Must Die

If we must die, let it not be like hogs

Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot,

While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs,

Making their mock at our accursèd lot.

If we must die, O let us nobly die,

So that our precious blood may not be shed

In vain; then even the monsters we defy

Shall be constrained to honor us though dead!

O kinsmen! we must meet the common foe!

Though far outnumbered let us show us brave,

And for their thousand blows deal one death-blow!

What though before us lies the open grave?

Like men we’ll face the murderous, cowardly pack,

Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!

[typewriter-worries]

Summer Morn in New Hampshire, Claude McKay

[ Text ID: For you, more wonderful, were far away, / And I was blind with hunger for your love. ]

[goodbyeapathy8]

On this Valentine's Day, 2024, I'd like to share 3 love poems with you. It may not be obvious why these are love poems but please stick around to the end and I promise it'll make sense.

1. "If We Must Die" - Claude McKay

If we must die, let it not be like hogs Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot, While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs, Making their mock at our accursèd lot. If we must die, O let us nobly die, So that our precious blood may not be shed In vain; then even the monsters we defy Shall be constrained to honor us though dead! O kinsmen! we must meet the common foe! Though far outnumbered let us show us brave, And for their thousand blows deal one death-blow! What though before us lies the open grave? Like men we’ll face the murderous, cowardly pack, Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!

2. "When the day comes" - Shim Hoon

when the day comes when it comes that even mount Samgak may rise and dance the river Han will writhe, alive, like a dragon that day

that it may come before my life ends with the crows that fly at night I will aim at Chongno bell and ring it. even if that should splinter my skull but what han should remain after that joy.

that that day comes o! that day comes I shall cry and laugh and roll on the large road in front of Yookjo

and still should that not be enough I should take a knife to make a leather of my skin to turn it into a large drum to wear at the front of the joyful procession.

should I hear that ringing sound just once I could close my eyes without regrets.

3. "If I Must Die" - Refaat Alareer

If I must die, you must live to tell my story to sell my things to buy a piece of cloth and some strings, (make it white with a long tail) so that a child, somewhere in Gaza while looking heaven in the eye awaiting his dad who left in a blaze — and bid no one farewell not even to his flesh not even to himself — sees the kite, my kite you made, flying up above, and thinks for a moment an angel is there bringing back love. If I must die let it bring hope, let it be a story.

The first two poems were written in 1919, on opposite sides of the world. Claude McKay was a young Jamaican Black man, writing about the oppression against Black people while Shim Hoon was a young Korean man, writing about the Japanese oppression against Koreans.

A little over 100 years later, a poet named Refaat Alareer would pen his last work in December of 2023, in Falasteen.

Yes - these are poems of love.

Love for a people, oppressed and hated by many.

Love for self, to document their current fight, for the future generation.

And none of these three people may be your direct ancestors but they are people who have gone ahead of us, walking a slightly different path, offering their words to us as a legacy. To remember what we fight for, to remember the hope in the future, for those of us that survive long enough to see it. Even if they may not.

I know there are so many horrors we have witnessed. Not just in Falasteen but in Sudan, in Congo, in Myanmar, and countless other places - in the name of oppression and greed and capitalism and colonization and imperialism.

But I hope these three poems serve as a reminder of what we are doing and why we are doing it.

Sending love to everyone.

-- *Translator's note - Shim Hoon's poem is a direct translation by me. Please do not repost the translation without credit.

[lionofchaeronea]

Current reading is Harlem Shadows, the landmark 1922 poetry collection by the Jamaican-American author Claude McKay (1890-1948). To breathe new life into traditional forms like the sonnet, at a time when Modernism and free verse were overwhelmingly dominant, is impressive. To write of intense emotions--alienation, grief, rage--in a beautiful way is no less impressive. To do both at once is astonishing, and that is what McKay did. His work is an undying cri de coeur against racial injustice in both his native and his adopted countries, and it stands as one of the crowning achievements of the Harlem Renaissance.

[drsonnet]

If we must die, let it not be like hogs

ترجمة د. صهباء بندق

If we must die, let it not be like hogs

إذا لم يكن من الموتِ بُدٌ فلا نموتنّ مٍيْتة الخنازير

Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot,

نُصادُ و نُلقى في الحظائر بلا كرامة

While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs,

ومن حولنا كلابُ مسعٌورةُ تنبح

Making their mock at our accursèd lot.

ساخرة من مصيرنا اللعين ؛ المُهين

If we must die, O let us nobly die,

إذا لم يكن من الموتِ بُدٌ فلنمت أعزاء شُرفاء So that our precious blood may not be shed

ولا تُراقن دماؤنا الغالية بلا ثمن In vain; then even the monsters we defy

حينئذٍ ؛ حتى الوحوش الضارية التي نقف في وجوهها Shall be constrained to honor us though dead!

ستُضطر إلى تكريمنا ونحن أموات O kinsmen! we must meet the common foe!

أيها الرفاق ؛ يا أشقاء علينا مواجهة العدو المشترك Though far outnumbered let us show us brave,

وإن كنا أقل منه عددا وعُدة ؛ فلنتفوق عليه بالشجاعة And for their thousand blows deal one death-blow!

وفي مقابل آلاف الطِعان التي يوجهونها إلينا علينا أن نسدد إليه طعنة واحدة ؛ قاتلة What though before us lies the open grave?

ما علينا إذا كان القبرٌ في انتظارنا غداً ؟ Like men we'll face the murderous, cowardly pack,سنواجه زُمرة القتلة الجُبناء ؛ رجالاً Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!

ظهورنا إلى الجُدران؛ لكننا نردُ الطعنة بالطعنة

Claude McKayكلود مكاي(ولد في العقد الأخير من القرن التاسع عشر ؛ وهو من شعراء الزنوج الذين سخروا شعرهم للتمرد على أبناء جنسه المسخرين لخدمة البيض)