Gwendolyn Brooks

The Crazy Woman

I shall not sing a May song. A May song should be gay. I’ll wait until November And sing a song of gray. I’ll wait until November That is the time for me. I’ll

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 husband and lovers are pleasant

arrive. The Ladies from the Ladies’ Betterment League Arrive in the afternoon, the late light slanting In diluted gold bars across the boulevard brag Of proud, seamed faces with mercy and murder hinting Here,

The Ballad of Rudolph Reed

Rudolph Reed was oaken. His wife was oaken too. And his two good girls and his good little man Oakened as they grew. “I am not hungry for berries. I am not hungry for

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 oral Grave grave legalities of hate –

To Be In Love

To be in love Is to touch with a lighter hand. In yourself you stretch, you are well. You look at things Through his eyes. A cardinal is red. A sky is blue. Suddenly

An Evening

A sunset’s mounded cloud; A diamond evening-star; Sad blue hills afar; Love in his shroud. Scarcely a tear to shed; Hardly a word to say; The end of a summer day; Sweet Love dead.

The Mother

Abortions will not let you forget. You remember the children you got that you did not get, The damp small pulps with a little or with no hair, The singers and workers that never

One Wants A Teller In A Time Like This

One wants a teller in a time like this One’s not a man, one’s not a woman grown To bear enormous business all alone. One cannot walk this winding street with pride Straight-shouldered, tranquil-eyed,

The Independent Man

Now who could take you off to tiny life In one room or in two rooms or in three And cork you smartly, like the flask of wine You are? Not any woman. Not

Sadie and Maud

Maud went to college. Sadie stayed home. Sadie scraped life With a fine toothed comb. She didn’t leave a tangle in Her comb found every strand. Sadie was one of the livingest chicks In

My Dreams, My Works, Must Wait Till After Hell

I hold my honey and I store my bread In little jars and cabinets of my will. I label clearly, and each latch and lid I bid, Be firm till I return from hell.