
Booker T. and W.E.B.
Randall Dudley is a name in poetry that you may not be familiar but from 1965 to 1977 his periodical Broadside Press, published out of Detroit, encouraged and showcased nearly every black poet that was influential in those years in North America. Dudley was the son of a Minister, born in Washington, D. C. who moved to Detroit when he was nine. He began writing poems before he was five and published his first poem in the Detroit Free Press when he was thirteen. He served in World War II and came back and got degrees in B. A. in English and a master’s degree in Library Science. His poetry was published in multiple volumes over a long career, but he was more of a poet’s poet, than a main stream name. His greater contribution to poetry was likely his thoughtful mentoring and publishing of other black authors authors work. Poets such as Ethridge Knight, Sonia Sanchez, Gwendolyn Brooks, Haki R. Madhubuti and Nikki Giovanni have all praised Randall for his generous support of black artists and the impact that Broadside Press had during those years.
Dudley wrote in different styles, but contributed to jazz poetry, sometimes gave readings accompanied by jazz music. His poem Ballad of Birmingham was put to music by Jerry Moore and has been recorded by many artists over the years. I have included a link to the song below. Randall spoke fluent Russian, traveled extensively internationally and translated a host of poems from Russian to English. Although a limited number of his poems are available on the internet, he is a name I will check out on the used section in Alibris, which is where I hunt down poetry that is out of print. If you would like to read the poem, Ballad of Birmingham before you listen to it, you can check out the link below which will take you to a copy at the Poetry Foundation.
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/46562/ballad-of-birmingham
On Getting A Natural (For Gwendolyn Brooks)
She didn’t know she was beautiful,
though her smiles were dawn,
her voice was bells,
and her skin deep velvet Night.
She didn’t know she was beautiful,
although her deeds,
kind, generous, unobtrusive,
gave hope to some,
and help to others,
and inspiration to us all. And
beauty is as beauty does,
they say.
Then one day there blossomed
a crown upon her head,
bushy, bouffant, real Afro-down,
Queen Nefertiti again.
And now her regal woolly crown
declares,
I know
I’m black
AND
beautiful
A name and poet I did not know, and now I do thanks to this.
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