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Tommy
I put my seed into the groundAnd said, 'I'll watch it grow.'I watered it and cared for itAs well as I could know.One day I walked in my back yard,And..
©  Gwendolyn Brooks
The Children Of The Poor
1People who have no children can be hard:Attain a mail of ice and insolence:Need not pause in the fire, and in no senseHesitate in the hurricane to..
©  Gwendolyn Brooks
A Penitent Considers Another Coming Of Mary
For Reverend Theodore RichardsonIf Mary came would MaryForgive, as Mothers may,And sad and second SaviourFurnish us today?She would not shake her..
©  Gwendolyn Brooks
Jessie Mitchell’s Mother
Into her mother’s bedroom to wash the ballooning body.“My mother is jelly-hearted and she has a brain of jelly:Sweet, quiver-soft, irrelevant. Not..
©  Gwendolyn Brooks
When You Have Forgotten Sunday: The Love Story
—And when you have forgotten the bright bedclothes on a Wednesday and a Saturday,And most especially when you have forgotten Sunday—When you have..
©  Gwendolyn Brooks
Mayor Harold Washington
Mayor. Worldman. Historyman.Beyond steps that occur and close,your steps are echo-makers.You can never be forgotten.We begin our health.We enter the..
©  Gwendolyn Brooks
One Wants A Teller In A Time Like This
One wants a teller in a time like thisOne's not a man, one's not a woman grownTo bear enormous business all alone.One cannot walk this winding street..
©  Gwendolyn Brooks
The Vacant Lot
Mrs. Coley’s three-flat brickIsn’t here any more.All done with seeing her fat little formBurst out of the basement door;And with seeing her African..
©  Gwendolyn Brooks
Young Afrikans
of the furiousWho take Today and jerk it out of jointhave made new underpinnings and a Head.Blacktime is time for chimefulpoemhoodbut they decree..
©  Gwendolyn Brooks
Truth
And if sun comesHow shall we greet him?Shall we not dread him,Shall we not fear himAfter so lengthy aSession with shade?Though we have wept for..
©  Gwendolyn Brooks
Primer For Blacks
Blacknessis a title,is a preoccupation,is a commitment Blacksare to comprehend—and in which you areto perceive your Glory.The conscious shoutof all..
©  Gwendolyn Brooks
Boy Breaking Glass
To Marc Crawfordfrom whom the commissionWhose broken window is a cry of art(success, that winks awareas elegance, as a treasonable faith)is raw: is..
©  Gwendolyn Brooks
Of Robert Frost
There is a little lightning in his eyes.Iron at the mouth.His brows ride neither too far up nor down.He is splendid. With a place to stand.Some..
©  Gwendolyn Brooks
A Song In The Front Yard
I’ve stayed in the front yard all my life.I want a peek at the backWhere it’s rough and untended and hungry weed grows.A girl gets sick of a rose.I..
©  Gwendolyn Brooks
The Lovers Of The Poor
arrive. The Ladies from the Ladies' Betterment LeagueArrive in the afternoon, the late light slantingIn diluted gold bars across the boulevard bragOf..
©  Gwendolyn Brooks
To The Diaspora
you did not know you were AfrikaWhen you set out for Afrikayou did not know you were going.Becauseyou did not know you were Afrika.You did not know..
©  Gwendolyn Brooks
The Good Man
The good man.He is still enhancer, renouncer.In the time of detachment,in the time of the vivid heather and affectionate evil,in the time of..
©  Gwendolyn Brooks
Garbageman: The Man With The Orderly Mind
What do you think of us in fuzzy endeavor, you whose directions aresterling, whose lunge is straight?Can you make a reason, how can you pardon us who..
©  Gwendolyn Brooks
A Bronzeville Mother Loiters In Mississippi. Meanwhile, A Mississippi Mother Burns Bacon
From the first it had been like aBallad. It had the beat inevitable. It had the blood.A wildness cut up, and tied in little bunches,Like the..
©  Gwendolyn Brooks
Kitchenette Building
We are things of dry hours and the involuntary plan,Grayed in, and gray. "Dream" mate, a giddy sound, not strongLike "rent", "feeding a wife"..
©  Gwendolyn Brooks
The Ballad Of Rudolph Reed
Rudolph Reed was oaken.His wife was oaken too.And his two good girls and his good little manOakened as they grew."I am not hungry for berries.I am..
©  Gwendolyn Brooks
The Sonnet-Ballad
Oh mother, mother, where is happiness?They took my lover's tallness off to war,Left me lamenting. Now I cannot guessWhat I can use an empty heart-cup..
©  Gwendolyn Brooks
The Bean Eaters
They eat beans mostly, this old yellow pair.Dinner is a casual affair.Plain chipware on a plain and creaking wood,Tin flatware.Two who are Mostly..
©  Gwendolyn Brooks
A Sunset Of The City
Already I am no longer looked at with lechery or love.My daughters and sons have put me away with marbles and dolls,Are gone from the house.My..
©  Gwendolyn Brooks
My Dreams, My Works, Must Wait Till After Hell
I hold my honey and I store my breadIn little jars and cabinets of my will.I label clearly, and each latch and lidI bid, Be firm till I return from..
©  Gwendolyn Brooks