Poem Hunter
Harlem Wine
(30 May 1903 – 9 January 1946 / New York)

Harlem Wine

Poem By Countee Cullen

This is not water running here,
These thick rebellious streams
That hurtle flesh and bone past fear
Down alleyways of dreams

This is a wine that must flow on
Not caring how or where
So it has ways to flow upon
Where song is in the air.

So it can woo an artful flute
With loose elastic lips
Its measurements of joy compute
With blithe, ecstatic hips.

User Rating: 3,2 / 5 ( 14 votes ) 5

Comments (5)

Barack im cheating on you with your countee
Wine will always flow, bringing temporary joy at least. A joy I now reject.
these poems are dark AF
Seduction, Lure of the speakeasy, the underground intoxication of sweat, tears and forbidded sex...your thoughts
countee's my nigga forreal