Mexican Market Woman

This ancient hag

Who sits upon the ground

Selling her scanty wares

Day in, day round,

Has known high wind-swept mountains,

And the sun has made

Her skin so brown.


First of all, Hughes calls her an ancient hag. ANCIENT. Generations before and after this woman have and will be in this market place selling their scanty wares. I just thought that was and interesting thing to say. 

Queston [1]

HEN the old junk man Death

Comes to gather up our bodies

And toss them into the sack of oblivion,

I wonder if he will find

The corpse of a white multi-millionaire

Worth more pennies of eternity,

Than the black torso of

A Negro cotton-picker?

Hughes poses a powerful question with this poem. Is the white man better than the black man? Is the corpse of a white man more significant than that of a black man?

Lets first look at the context: During slavery, slaves were and had to be strong and fit to work in the harsh conditions in which they were forced. So consider the body of a slave cotton-picker as a parallel to the white slaveowner's bank account.

Negro

I am a Negro:
Black as the night is black,
Black like the depths of my Africa.

I’ve been a slave:
Caesar told me to keep his door-steps clean.
I brushed the boots of Washington.

I’ve been a worker:
Under my hand the pyramids arose.
I made mortar for the Woolworth Building.

I’ve been a singer:
All the way from Africa to Georgia
I carried my sorrow songs.
I made ragtime.

I’ve been a victim:
The Belgians cut off my hands in the Congo.
They lynch me still in Mississippi.

I am a Negro:
Black as the night is black,
Black like the depths of my Africa.

Hughes' "Negro" is a representation of the transformation of the Negro and the consistency of plight. Hughes' simple message is this: A Negro, regardless of time or place is still a Negro barring the same cross of principle.
Is this relevant for the twenty-first century Negro? Could it be that this poem, in a different context, has the capability to capture or represent the plight of that of other minorities? Consider if the title and selected words were changed to "Indian", "Jew", "Jap", or "Hispanic."

Aunt Sue's Stories

Aunt Sue has a head full of stories.
Aunt Sue has a whole heart full of stories.
Summer nights on the front porch
Aunt Sue cuddles a brown-faced child to her bosom
And tells him stories.

Black slaves
Working in the hot sun,
And black slaves
Walking in the dewy night,
And black slaves
Singing sorrow songs on the banks of a mighty river
Mingle themselves softly
In the flow of old Aunt Sue's voice,
Mingle themselves softly
In the dark shadows that cross and recross
Aunt Sue's stories.

And the dark-faced child, listening,
Knows that Aunt Sue's stories are real stories.
He knows that Aunt Sue never got her stories
Out of any book at all,
But that they came
Right out of her own life.

The dark-faced child is quiet
Of a summer night
Listening to Aunt Sue's stories.

Langston Hughes' "Aunt Sue's Stories" is a simple story of an aunt, presumably his, who tells stories of her past.

The first thing that comes to mind is the time my great-grandmother regaled stories about my mother as a child. My great-grandmother, who we called Monie, was born in 1911, so you can imagine the stories that were told to my sister and I. We were truly blessed to have the rare opportunity to travel back in time to get a glimpse of how things were and how they have changed; through the medium of "Monie's Stories."

The Negro Speaks of Rivers

Ive known rivers: I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow of human blood in human veins. My soul has grown deep like the rivers. I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young. I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep. I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it. I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln went down to New Orleans, and I've seen its muddy bosom turn all golden in the sunset. I've known rivers: Ancient, dusky rivers. My soul has grown deep like the rivers. Hughes' "The Negro Speaks of Rivers" is one of his most famous poems. Keeping it within the context of the life of the African American gives a certain meaning, but placing it within the context of your life and mine; meanings may differ...here is my take. When I consider all of the images that are given within this poem, what I see is nothing but a journey. Hughes says that he bathed in the Euphrates, built a hut near the Congo, and looked upon the Nile. Every river that is mentioned can be a representation of a particular moment in ones life. Think about it. Graduating from high school and/or college is a major part of someones life; burying a parent, getting married, and having your first child is a pivital point in everyones life. Hughes says that his soul has grown deep like the rivers. Consider this: When we are born, our soul is nothing but a trench, waiting to be filled with the experiences that life will confront us with. The more you encounter, the deeper you soul becomes. Your soul might not be deep as a river just yet, but as the old folks say, "honey, just keep on livin'."