Henri Miller

H.B. Miller's writing career spans 42 years. His poems have appeared in "Arx", "New Republic" and other magazines. He has biographical sketches in Who's who Among Black Americans, 1975-76, Notable Americans, 1976-77 and World Poetry Anthology, 1987.

Presently: seeking publication of 3-Lined Tantras, a book of poetry, and Deadly Degree, a novel. Speciality: 3-lined haiku poetry (5/7/5 syllables).

"'Pop' Music & Dance"

Not for health or wealth we left our shore,
No passage sought to a promised land;
We were stolen through our own back door,
Iron chains weighed foot, neck & hand.

Yet, we survived sightless storage holds,
Slimy stinks & indelible stains;
The florid faces of England's coin of gold:
The Guinea replaced our given names.

Landless, we dark daughters & sons
(Held tightly by cruel fetters bound)
Brought dance & music in our drums
(The origins of the soulful sound.)

For Gospel grew tall like sugar cane,
People daily hummed the bad news,
And sang out in their abject pain
Long before it was called the "blues."

Later, Scott Joplin's mystical mind
(So sweetly, musically fine)
Left thin trails for future Ragtime
Fingers to thread & then to unwind.

And secret gris gris*, Voodoo rites
Became the rage on Broadway stages,
Transformed Black Magic into White,
Written into History's pages.

Rock 'n' Roll, Soul, hip-hop-dance--
The jazzman blowing his "axe" slow, low
In Japan, Sweden, Germany, France--
Wherever on the Globe you go.

Thus, from beginnings humble & poor:
A mixture now black, white & tan,
Out of countless slave ships' back doors:
Came music & dance born African.

*Magic. Pronounced, gree-gree

H.B. Miller, San Diego
1/20/01

Language bamboo Often used to spring over What we mean to do.	On uneven mounds Love grows much thicker Than on level ground.
False-lovers wear gloves Tight over handsome hands For a smoother rub.	In your poetry Show me those seas where Sappho Sings her sailing songs.
In his haste to walk Homo Erectus left us Ankle and foot bones.	The thief on the cross Was ready to cut a deal Sell his soul at cost.
Haiku doesn't rhyme-- 5/7/5 syllables Cut it too damn fine!	From dusty ashes Phoenix Birds and people Rise up and fly again.