Gwendolyn Brooks Quotes

And in a soft and fundamental hour a sorcery devout and vertical beguiled the world.
Gwendolyn Brooks (b. 1917), U.S. poet. Malcolm X (l. 8-10). . . Poetry of Black America, The; Anthology of the 20th Century. Arnold Adoff, ed. (1973) Harper & Row.
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When the Negroes came they were perplexed. These Negroes looked like men.
Gwendolyn Brooks (b. 1917), U.S. poet. "The white troops had their orders but the Negroes looked like men."
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All my days I'll have as mentors those reproving ghosts.
Gwendolyn Brooks (b. 1917), U.S. poet. "Mentors."
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Such as boxed Their feelings properly, complete to tags A box for dark men and a box for Other Would often find the contents had been scrambled.
Gwendolyn Brooks (b. 1917), U.S. poet. "The white troops had their orders but the Negroes looked like men."
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For I am rightful fellow of their band. My best allegiances are to the dead.
Gwendolyn Brooks (b. 1917), U.S. poet. "Mentors."
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Even now she does the snake-hips with a hiss, Slops the bad wine across her shantung, talks Of pregnancy, guitars and bridgework, walks In parks or alleys, comes haply on the verge Of happiness, haply hysterics. Is.
Gwendolyn Brooks (b. 1917), U.S. poet. The Womanhood (l. 4-8). . . Women Poets in English, The; an Anthology. Ann Stanford, ed. (1972) McGraw-Hill Book Company.
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And silence her six And mix Her spices and core And slice her apples, and find her four. Continuing her part Of the world's business.
Gwendolyn Brooks (b. 1917), U.S. poet. "Mrs. Small."
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And if sun comes How shall we greet him? Shall we not dread him, Shall we not fear him After so lengthy a Session with shade?
Gwendolyn Brooks (b. 1917), African American poet and fiction writer. "The Womanhood," part 9: "truth," lines 1-6 (1949).
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Mrs. Small went to the kitchen for her pocketbook And came back to the living room with a peculiar look And the coffee pot. Pocketbook. Pot. Pot. Pocketbook.
Gwendolyn Brooks (b. 1917), U.S. poet. "Mrs. Small."
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Forgotten and stinking they stick in the can. And the vase breath's better and all, and all. And so for the end of our life to a man, Just over, just over and all.
Gwendolyn Brooks (b. 1917), U.S. poet. "Throwing out the flowers."
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