Jazz Poems

STRANGE FRUIT

Southern trees bear a strange fruit

Blood on the leaves and blood at the root

Black body swinging in the Southern breeze

Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees

Pastoral scene of the gallant South

The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth

Scent of magnolia sweet and fresh

And the sudden smell of burning flesh

Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck,

For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck

For the sun to rot, for a tree to drop,

Here is a strange and bitter crop.

LEWIS ALLAN

from Jazz Poems ~ Selected and Edited by Kevin Young

SUITE TABU 200

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