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The Essential Gwendolyn Brooks:
“If you wanted a poem,” wrote Gwendolyn Brooks, “you only had to look out of a window. There was material always, walking or running, fighting or screaming or singing.” From the life of Chicago’s South Side she made a forceful and passionate poetry that fused Modernist aesthetics with African-American cultural tradition, a poetry that registered the life of the streets and the upheavals of the 20th century. Starting with A Street in Bronzeville (1945), her epoch-making debut volume, The Essential Gwendolyn Brooks traces the full arc of her career in all its ambitious scope and unexpected stylistic shifts.
“Her formal range,” writes editor Elizabeth Alexander, “is most impressive, as she experiments with sonnets, ballads, spirituals, blues, full and off-rhymes. She is nothing short of a technical virtuoso.” That technical virtuosity was matched by a restless curiosity about the life around her in all its explosive variety. By turns compassionate, angry, satiric, and psychologically penetrating, Gwendolyn Brooks’s poetry retains its power to move and surprise.
“Her formal range,” writes editor Elizabeth Alexander, “is most impressive, as she experiments with sonnets, ballads, spirituals, blues, full and off-rhymes. She is nothing short of a technical virtuoso.” That technical virtuosity was matched by a restless curiosity about the life around her in all its explosive variety. By turns compassionate, angry, satiric, and psychologically penetrating, Gwendolyn Brooks’s poetry retains its power to move and surprise.
174 pages, Hardcover
First published November 17, 2005
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About the author
Gwendolyn Brooks
124 books562 followersGwendolyn Elizabeth Brooks is the Pulitzer Prize-winning author of Annie Allen and one of the most celebrated Black poets. She also served as consultant in poetry to the Library of Congress—the first Black woman to hold that position. She was the poet laureate for the state of Illinois for over thirty years, a National Women’s Hall of Fame inductee, and the recipient of a lifetime achievement award from the National Endowment for the Arts. Her works include We Are Shining, Bronzeville Boys and Girls, A Street in Bronzeville, In the Mecca, The Bean Eaters, and Maud Martha.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 124 reviews
July 17, 2017
When my father died two years ago, I, who have written since I was seven, had no words. EE Cummings and Gwendolyn Brooks stepped in, and provided me with the two poems I used to eulogize him. Today is my dad's birthday, and, instead of crying all day, I thought I'd spend my energy on promoting Ms. Brooks's poetry. Maybe she'll find a new reader today.
In Honor of My Father
A dryness is upon the house
My father loved and tended.
Beyond his firm and sculptured door
His light and lease have ended.
He walks the valleys now—replies
To sun and wind forever.
No more the cramping chamber's chill,
No more the hindering fever.
Now out upon the wide clean air
My father's soul revives,
All innocent of self-interest
And the fear that strikes and strives.
He who was Goodness, Gentleness,
And Dignity is free,
Translates to public Love
Old private charity.
In Honor of My Father
A dryness is upon the house
My father loved and tended.
Beyond his firm and sculptured door
His light and lease have ended.
He walks the valleys now—replies
To sun and wind forever.
No more the cramping chamber's chill,
No more the hindering fever.
Now out upon the wide clean air
My father's soul revives,
All innocent of self-interest
And the fear that strikes and strives.
He who was Goodness, Gentleness,
And Dignity is free,
Translates to public Love
Old private charity.
May 3, 2015
Gwendolyn Brooks is one of the best poets ever born. She's amazing! I'm probably so enamored of her writing because she was my mother's absolute favorite poet and we children grew up reading all her poems over and over. I think, actually, that this is the best way to be introduced to poetry - in the home instead of in school. That way you love it instead of thinking of it as an intellectual chore.
Here's my favorite poem by her:
MY DREAMS, MY WORKS, MUST WAIT TILL AFTER HELL
By Gwendolyn Brooks
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.
I am very hungry. I am incomplete.
And none can tell when I may dine again.
No man can give me any word but Wait,
The puny light. I keep eyes pointed in;
Hoping that, when the devil days of my hurt
Drag out to their last dregs and I resume
On such legs as are left me, in such heart
As I can manage, remember to go home,
My taste will not have turned insensitive
To honey and bread old purity could love.
And, of course, little pieces of her poems that I quote all the time, such as
My last defense
Is the present tense.
And
We are each other's
harvest:
we are each other's
business:
We are each other's
magnitude and bond.
Tl;dr - A wonderful collection of poems by an amazing woman.
Here's my favorite poem by her:
MY DREAMS, MY WORKS, MUST WAIT TILL AFTER HELL
By Gwendolyn Brooks
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.
I am very hungry. I am incomplete.
And none can tell when I may dine again.
No man can give me any word but Wait,
The puny light. I keep eyes pointed in;
Hoping that, when the devil days of my hurt
Drag out to their last dregs and I resume
On such legs as are left me, in such heart
As I can manage, remember to go home,
My taste will not have turned insensitive
To honey and bread old purity could love.
And, of course, little pieces of her poems that I quote all the time, such as
My last defense
Is the present tense.
And
We are each other's
harvest:
we are each other's
business:
We are each other's
magnitude and bond.
Tl;dr - A wonderful collection of poems by an amazing woman.
February 21, 2025
Gwendolyn Brooks In The American Poets Project
The poet Gwendolyn Brooks (1917 -- 2000) was born in Topeka but lived most of her life in Chicago, the scene of many of her poems. In 1949, Brooks became the first black (her preferred term over "African American") to receive the Pulitzer Prize for poetry for her book "Annie Allen". Brooks had many honors over a long career. She was a Guggenheim fellow, served as poet laureate of the United States from 1985 -- 1986, and she won the National Medal of the Arts in 1995.
"The Essential Gwendolyn Brooks" (2005) is a selection of Brooks' poetry taken from twelve collections written from 1945 to 2003. The book is part of the American Poets Project series of the Library of America which aims to make widely available the full scope of America's poetic achievement. . Elizabeth Alexander, a poet and professor at Yale University, wrote the introduction to this volume, which helps in elucidating Brooks' sometimes difficult poems.
Brooks' is best-known for her poem "We Real Cool" from her 1960 collection "The Bean Eaters". The poem is a song by young Chicago pool hustlers who inevitably will come to a short, bad end. Here is the poem.
" The Pool Players.
Seven at the Golden Shovel.
We real cool. We
Left school. We
Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We
Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We
Jazz June. We
Die soon. "
In its poignancy and its jazzy style this poem is representative of Brooks, but there is much more. This collection shows a tough-minded, highly gifted modern poet who writes in a variety of styles, from sonnets and ballads to modern free verse. The poems emphasize black experience. The earlier works tend to be centered in Chicago and in WW II. With the rise of the Civil Rights and Black Power movements, Brooks writes about Emmett Till, Malcolm X, Black Power movements in Chicago, the singer Paul Robeson, apartheid in South Africa, and more. Her works reflect a great deal of anger, irony, sadness, and hope. In reading these poems, I remembered the political history but never forgot that I was in the presence of a poet. Up until 1967, Brooks published with Harper and Row. After that date, she published exclusively with black presses. As Alexander points out in her introduction, the poetic intensity and taut diction of her work lessened somewhat when the more political themes of her poems intensified.
I enjoyed most the earlier collections including, "A Street in Bronzeville" and the Pulitzer Prize winning successor, "Annie Allen". The first of these books is written in a variety of styles and voices. It captures the lives of black people living on Chicago's south side. There are many characters in this book including young couples, would-be dandys living in poverty, to preachers with religious doubts, prostitutes, women two-timed by their husbands, soldiers, and young men kin to those described in "We Real Cool". In the poem "Sadie and Maud" Brooks contrasts the lives of two sisters, one prim, proper, and college educated, the other a wilder woman with two children out of wedlock. Throughout this collection, the forms of the poems meld beautifully with the characterizations and descriptions of places.
While "A Street in Bronzewille" shows a wide variety of people and places, the poems in "Annie Allen" explore the life of the black woman for whom the volume is named. The poems are in many different moods and styles. The collection begins with sonnets describing Annie's early life and its hope, under the title, "Notes from the Childhood and the Girlhood". Then there is a long, difficult central poem, "The Anniad" written in an ironic mock-heroic style which tells of Annie's marriage and of her husband's desertion when he returns home from WW II. The final section, "The Womanhood" are dramatic monologue in which the tough-minded realistic Annie offers comments on her surroundings and on events. For example in the poem "I love these little booths at Benvenuti's", Annie makes tart observations on white people who go slumming in a popular Bronzeville eatery. In contrast to their behavior
"The colored people arrive, sit firmly down,
Eat their Express Spaghetti, their T-bone steak,
Handling their steel and crockery with no clatter,
Laugh punily, rise, go firmly out of the door."
The book includes a short biography, brief notes, and Alexander's introduction together with a good selection of Brooks' poetry. The book left me wanting to read more of Brooks. Her work is both distinctively individual and American. Brooks amply deserves her place in a series designed to show the depth and breadth of poetry written in the United States.
Robin Friedman
The poet Gwendolyn Brooks (1917 -- 2000) was born in Topeka but lived most of her life in Chicago, the scene of many of her poems. In 1949, Brooks became the first black (her preferred term over "African American") to receive the Pulitzer Prize for poetry for her book "Annie Allen". Brooks had many honors over a long career. She was a Guggenheim fellow, served as poet laureate of the United States from 1985 -- 1986, and she won the National Medal of the Arts in 1995.
"The Essential Gwendolyn Brooks" (2005) is a selection of Brooks' poetry taken from twelve collections written from 1945 to 2003. The book is part of the American Poets Project series of the Library of America which aims to make widely available the full scope of America's poetic achievement. . Elizabeth Alexander, a poet and professor at Yale University, wrote the introduction to this volume, which helps in elucidating Brooks' sometimes difficult poems.
Brooks' is best-known for her poem "We Real Cool" from her 1960 collection "The Bean Eaters". The poem is a song by young Chicago pool hustlers who inevitably will come to a short, bad end. Here is the poem.
" The Pool Players.
Seven at the Golden Shovel.
We real cool. We
Left school. We
Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We
Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We
Jazz June. We
Die soon. "
In its poignancy and its jazzy style this poem is representative of Brooks, but there is much more. This collection shows a tough-minded, highly gifted modern poet who writes in a variety of styles, from sonnets and ballads to modern free verse. The poems emphasize black experience. The earlier works tend to be centered in Chicago and in WW II. With the rise of the Civil Rights and Black Power movements, Brooks writes about Emmett Till, Malcolm X, Black Power movements in Chicago, the singer Paul Robeson, apartheid in South Africa, and more. Her works reflect a great deal of anger, irony, sadness, and hope. In reading these poems, I remembered the political history but never forgot that I was in the presence of a poet. Up until 1967, Brooks published with Harper and Row. After that date, she published exclusively with black presses. As Alexander points out in her introduction, the poetic intensity and taut diction of her work lessened somewhat when the more political themes of her poems intensified.
I enjoyed most the earlier collections including, "A Street in Bronzeville" and the Pulitzer Prize winning successor, "Annie Allen". The first of these books is written in a variety of styles and voices. It captures the lives of black people living on Chicago's south side. There are many characters in this book including young couples, would-be dandys living in poverty, to preachers with religious doubts, prostitutes, women two-timed by their husbands, soldiers, and young men kin to those described in "We Real Cool". In the poem "Sadie and Maud" Brooks contrasts the lives of two sisters, one prim, proper, and college educated, the other a wilder woman with two children out of wedlock. Throughout this collection, the forms of the poems meld beautifully with the characterizations and descriptions of places.
While "A Street in Bronzewille" shows a wide variety of people and places, the poems in "Annie Allen" explore the life of the black woman for whom the volume is named. The poems are in many different moods and styles. The collection begins with sonnets describing Annie's early life and its hope, under the title, "Notes from the Childhood and the Girlhood". Then there is a long, difficult central poem, "The Anniad" written in an ironic mock-heroic style which tells of Annie's marriage and of her husband's desertion when he returns home from WW II. The final section, "The Womanhood" are dramatic monologue in which the tough-minded realistic Annie offers comments on her surroundings and on events. For example in the poem "I love these little booths at Benvenuti's", Annie makes tart observations on white people who go slumming in a popular Bronzeville eatery. In contrast to their behavior
"The colored people arrive, sit firmly down,
Eat their Express Spaghetti, their T-bone steak,
Handling their steel and crockery with no clatter,
Laugh punily, rise, go firmly out of the door."
The book includes a short biography, brief notes, and Alexander's introduction together with a good selection of Brooks' poetry. The book left me wanting to read more of Brooks. Her work is both distinctively individual and American. Brooks amply deserves her place in a series designed to show the depth and breadth of poetry written in the United States.
Robin Friedman
March 30, 2022
From the introduction: "Brooks is a consummate portraitist who found worlds in the community she wrote out of, and her innovations as a sonneteer remain an inspiration to more than one generation of poets who have come after her. Her career as a whole also offers an example of an artist who was willing to respond and evolve in the face of the dramatic historical, political, and aesthetic changes and challenges she lived through."
I loved reading Gwendolyn Brooks' poems from lovely and lyrical to dark and real, inspired by life on the streets of Chicago's South Side.
One of my favorites:
Shorthand Possible
A long marriage makes shorthand possible.
The Everything need not be said.
Because of old-time double-seeing.
Because of old-time double-being.
The early answer answers late.
So comfortably out-of-date.
The aged photographs come clear.
To dazzle down the now-and-here.
I said: "Some day we'll have Franciscan China."
You said: "Some day the Defender will photograph your house."
You said: "I want you to have at least two children."
Other favorites include: Bessie of Bronzeville Visits Mary and Norman at a Beach-House in New Buffalo, The Bean Eaters, and Elegy in a Rainbow.
Elegy in a Rainbow
Moe Belle's double love song.
When I was a little girl
Christmas was exquisite.
I didn't touch it.
I didn't look at it too closely.
To do that
might nullify the shine.
Thus with a Love
that has to have a Home
like the Black Nation,
like the Black Nation
defining its own Roof
that no one else can see.
I loved reading Gwendolyn Brooks' poems from lovely and lyrical to dark and real, inspired by life on the streets of Chicago's South Side.
One of my favorites:
Shorthand Possible
A long marriage makes shorthand possible.
The Everything need not be said.
Because of old-time double-seeing.
Because of old-time double-being.
The early answer answers late.
So comfortably out-of-date.
The aged photographs come clear.
To dazzle down the now-and-here.
I said: "Some day we'll have Franciscan China."
You said: "Some day the Defender will photograph your house."
You said: "I want you to have at least two children."
Other favorites include: Bessie of Bronzeville Visits Mary and Norman at a Beach-House in New Buffalo, The Bean Eaters, and Elegy in a Rainbow.
Elegy in a Rainbow
Moe Belle's double love song.
When I was a little girl
Christmas was exquisite.
I didn't touch it.
I didn't look at it too closely.
To do that
might nullify the shine.
Thus with a Love
that has to have a Home
like the Black Nation,
like the Black Nation
defining its own Roof
that no one else can see.
June 30, 2018
I have been working through this collection for a while. Brooks is clearly brilliant, and writes with a fierce rhythm that I love. Unfortunately, most of these poems didn’t resonate with me. Many of her allusions went right over my head. I think to appreciate her poetry I would need help: a class; a discussion; explanation. I have no doubt this would uncover a wealth of insight. I will have to wait for it until then.
For now, I enjoyed The Bean Eaters and The Anniad, and I adored A Song in the Front Yard:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XRU3y...
For now, I enjoyed The Bean Eaters and The Anniad, and I adored A Song in the Front Yard:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XRU3y...
May 12, 2014
Brooks’ poems speak about racism and African-American life. She mainly wrote about what surrounded her. She said, “If you wanted a poem, you only had to look out of a window. There was material always, walking or running, fighting or screaming or singing.” (The Essential Gwendolyn Brooks, p. xvii) Brooks wrote about 75 published poems by the time she turned sixteen years old. So she never stopped trying to perfect her craft as a poet there after, while in turn writing poetry that reflected the times. With tremendous passion, she was ingenious in writing her poetry in all types styles – blues, sonnets, jazz, ballads, free verse, and even enjambed like in her ever famous poem We Real Cool.
We Real Cool
The Pool Players.
Seven at the Golden Shovel.
I bought this tiny book of Gwendolyn Brooks’ poems about a year and a half ago. I picked it up and read two or three poems and put it down. Why? I have no unearthly idea! Insanity! What was I thinking?! So when I was rummaging through the books on my shelves looking for something different to read for Black History month, I fell immediately on The Essential Gwendolyn Brooks and a eureka came out on contact.
I read the entire book of poems in about three hours. I surely could have read it faster but I really wanted to soak up the rich language and ideas conveyed in them. I remember having heard Maya Angelou recite We Real Cool when I was a teenager. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the pleasure of studying Brooks’ poems in high school or at university. While reading I wondered why that could have been. How could such lyrical, moving, opulent, and culturally informative poetry be in essence left to the side?
Brooks’ poems speak about racism and African-American life. She mainly wrote about what surrounded her. She said, “If you wanted a poem, you only had to look out of a window. There was material always, walking or running, fighting or screaming or singing.” (The Essential Gwendolyn Brooks, p. xvii) Brooks wrote about 75 published poems by the time she turned sixteen years old. So she never stopped trying to perfect her craft as a poet there after, while in turn writing poetry that reflected the times. With tremendous passion, she was ingenious in writing her poetry in all types of styles – blues, sonnets, jazz, ballads, free verse, and even enjambed like in her ever famous poem We Real Cool.
We real cool. We
Left school. We
Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We
Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We
Jazz June. We
Die soon.
Gwendolyn Brooks
What a wonderful way to celebrate Women Writers month by sneaking a peek at poems written by the first African-American writer to win a Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1950. So do you like to read poetry? If so, what are some of your favourites? Let me know if you’ll be reading some novels or poetry written by women this month to honour women writer.
Check out this fantastic clip of Gwendolyn Brooks where she shares her thoughts on her writing, race, poetry, African-American women writers, etc.
We Real Cool
The Pool Players.
Seven at the Golden Shovel.
I bought this tiny book of Gwendolyn Brooks’ poems about a year and a half ago. I picked it up and read two or three poems and put it down. Why? I have no unearthly idea! Insanity! What was I thinking?! So when I was rummaging through the books on my shelves looking for something different to read for Black History month, I fell immediately on The Essential Gwendolyn Brooks and a eureka came out on contact.
I read the entire book of poems in about three hours. I surely could have read it faster but I really wanted to soak up the rich language and ideas conveyed in them. I remember having heard Maya Angelou recite We Real Cool when I was a teenager. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the pleasure of studying Brooks’ poems in high school or at university. While reading I wondered why that could have been. How could such lyrical, moving, opulent, and culturally informative poetry be in essence left to the side?
Brooks’ poems speak about racism and African-American life. She mainly wrote about what surrounded her. She said, “If you wanted a poem, you only had to look out of a window. There was material always, walking or running, fighting or screaming or singing.” (The Essential Gwendolyn Brooks, p. xvii) Brooks wrote about 75 published poems by the time she turned sixteen years old. So she never stopped trying to perfect her craft as a poet there after, while in turn writing poetry that reflected the times. With tremendous passion, she was ingenious in writing her poetry in all types of styles – blues, sonnets, jazz, ballads, free verse, and even enjambed like in her ever famous poem We Real Cool.
We real cool. We
Left school. We
Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We
Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We
Jazz June. We
Die soon.
Gwendolyn Brooks
What a wonderful way to celebrate Women Writers month by sneaking a peek at poems written by the first African-American writer to win a Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1950. So do you like to read poetry? If so, what are some of your favourites? Let me know if you’ll be reading some novels or poetry written by women this month to honour women writer.
Check out this fantastic clip of Gwendolyn Brooks where she shares her thoughts on her writing, race, poetry, African-American women writers, etc.
October 11, 2021
She is a brilliant writer and poet. She uses every poetry device there is, and references so many other works within her own. The poems document Chicago, her views on important civil rights figures, and the lives of African Americans.
April 14, 2014
Just brilliant:
THE EGG BOILER
Being you, you cut your poetry from wood.
The boiling of an egg is heavy art.
You come upon it as an artist should,
With rich-eyed passion, and with straining heart.
We fools, we cut our poems out of air.
Night color, wind soprano, and such stuff.
And sometimes weightlessness is much to bear.
You mock it, though, you name it Not Enough.
The egg, spooned gently to the avid pan,
And left the strick three minute, or the four,
Is your Enough and art for any man.
We fools give courteous ear----then cut some more,
Shaping a gorgeous Nothingness from cloud.
You watch us, eat your egg, and laugh aloud.
THE EGG BOILER
Being you, you cut your poetry from wood.
The boiling of an egg is heavy art.
You come upon it as an artist should,
With rich-eyed passion, and with straining heart.
We fools, we cut our poems out of air.
Night color, wind soprano, and such stuff.
And sometimes weightlessness is much to bear.
You mock it, though, you name it Not Enough.
The egg, spooned gently to the avid pan,
And left the strick three minute, or the four,
Is your Enough and art for any man.
We fools give courteous ear----then cut some more,
Shaping a gorgeous Nothingness from cloud.
You watch us, eat your egg, and laugh aloud.
June 22, 2020
Poetry should make you think, but it also should make you feel, as its language and metaphors slip under the radar and into your fingers, toes, and all four corners of your heart. Some poets are very accessible, as exemplar and metaphor are easily seen and understood. They don't rattle the bars and scare you. This was sometimes, but not always true for me with Brooks' poems. Some of her poems are small portraits, as in "We Real Cool" (1960) – while other poems I didn't understand. At these points, her music was larger than her words – and enjoyable even then.
Brooks' poetry is black-centered. Only occasionally do whites enter her view – and generally not in attractive ways, as in this section from "Bronzeville Woman in a Red Hat" (1960):
“I—who have ‘gone the gamut’ from an almost angry rejection of my dark skin by some of my brainwashed brothers and sisters to a surprised queenhood in the new Black sun—am qualified to enter at least the kindergarten of new consciousness now. New consciousness and trudge-toward-progress. I have hopes for myself… I know that Black fellow-feeling must be the Black man’s encyclopedic Primer. I know that the Black-and-white integration concept, which in the mind of some beaming early saint was a dainty spinning dream, has wound down to farce… I know that the Black emphasis must be not against white but FOR Black…" (quoted from Poetry Foundation)
We Real Cool (1960) is one of her more musical poems:
In the video, Brooks said she'd like it if we acknowledged that she'd written other poems. As a result, I will end with part of another of her poems, "Primer for Blacks" (1980)*, one that sees and weeds out the racism she sees – even in the Black community:
Brooks' poetry is black-centered. Only occasionally do whites enter her view – and generally not in attractive ways, as in this section from "Bronzeville Woman in a Red Hat" (1960):
They had never had one in the house before.Or in this section of "Beverly Hills, Chicago" (1949) – where "the people live till they have white hair":
The strangeness of it all.
Like unleashing
A lion, really. Poised
To pounce. A puma. A panther. A black
Bear.
There it stood in the door,
Under a red hat that was rash, but refreshing—
In a tasteless way, of course—across the dull dare,
The semi-assault of that extraordinary blackness.
Nobody is furious.This collection includes poems from over the course of Brooks' life. Her later poetry is more overtly political – although even her "small poems" feel angry and proud. Here she talks about how her political views about her skin, her race have changed:
Nobody hates these people.
At least, nobody driving by in this car.
It is only natural, however, that it should occur to us
How much more fortunate they are than we are.
It is only natural that we should look and look
At their wood and brick and stone
And think, while a breath of pine blows,
How different these are from our own.
We do not want them to have less.
But it is only natural that we should think we have not enough.
We drive on, we drive on.
When we speak to each other our voices are a little gruff.
“I—who have ‘gone the gamut’ from an almost angry rejection of my dark skin by some of my brainwashed brothers and sisters to a surprised queenhood in the new Black sun—am qualified to enter at least the kindergarten of new consciousness now. New consciousness and trudge-toward-progress. I have hopes for myself… I know that Black fellow-feeling must be the Black man’s encyclopedic Primer. I know that the Black-and-white integration concept, which in the mind of some beaming early saint was a dainty spinning dream, has wound down to farce… I know that the Black emphasis must be not against white but FOR Black…" (quoted from Poetry Foundation)
We Real Cool (1960) is one of her more musical poems:
We real cool. WeIn this video, Gwendolyn Brooks talks about, then reads We Real Cool. I like the way that she enjambs her lines – although reads them as end stops – and the ways that the sound changes in doing this. Her characters sound ... real cool.
Left school. We
Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We
Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We
Jazz June. We
Die soon.
In the video, Brooks said she'd like it if we acknowledged that she'd written other poems. As a result, I will end with part of another of her poems, "Primer for Blacks" (1980)*, one that sees and weeds out the racism she sees – even in the Black community:
The huge, the pungent object of our prime out-ride*In my copy, Brooks' lines are formatted differently, but I can't fix this in GoodReads.
is to Comprehend,
to salute and to Love the fact that we are Black,
which is our “ultimate Reality,”
which is the lone ground
from which our meaningful metamorphosis,
from which our prosperous staccato,
group or individual, can rise.
Self-shriveled Blacks.
Begin with gaunt and marvelous concession:
YOU are our costume and our fundamental bone.
All of you—
you COLORED ones,
you NEGRO ones,
those of you who proudly cry
“I’m half INDian”—
those of you who proudly screech
“I’VE got the blood of George WASHington in
MY veins—
ALL of you—
you proper Blacks,
you half-Blacks,
you wish-I-weren’t Blacks,
Niggeroes and Niggerenes.
You.
January 27, 2019
Beautiful words. Some poems are wonderful, some are beyond my experiences. But still a very nice collection of this Pulitzer Winner's work.
July 2, 2009
I can't really rate this book. I didn't really care for most of Brooks' writing, but I could tell that she did amazing things with rhythm, adherence to form, etc. Maybe it was above my reading level, but I just couldn't tell what the poems were saying. The words sounded okay together, but I couldn't grasp the overall meaning. Sometimes I would, at the end, and then I'd go back & read the poem from the beginning again, but most of the time it just inspired me to skim the next few poems, which all but guarantees I won't understand them, so... It was a somewhat frustrating exercise, which I may have taken more time with and tried to better digest if I'd been in the mood to, but I wasn't.
I think I liked her later work better, and finding this sentence, from "The Second Sermon on the Warpland", made me happy I read through the whole collection:
Conduct your blooming in the noise and whip of the whirlwind.
Maybe next time I'll read for growth and try to more constructively conduct my blooming.
I think I liked her later work better, and finding this sentence, from "The Second Sermon on the Warpland", made me happy I read through the whole collection:
Conduct your blooming in the noise and whip of the whirlwind.
Maybe next time I'll read for growth and try to more constructively conduct my blooming.
July 4, 2025
4/5
- brooks is such a gifted poet and this was really beautiful to read through. it did take me a bit, admittedly...I think splitting this collection in my head into the 3 main collections she put together was really helpful.
- the poems in here still feel incredibly relevant—brooks addresses societal norms around race, class, and ideas of what it means to be happy and what it means to live. I was really moved by so many of her words.
- I loved “kitchenette building." this was my favorite in the whole collection, and I recall it was closer to the start too, I just really loved the diction she chose. she weaves together setting with her themes incredibly well.
- A couple others: the entire book of Annie Allen, especially the first couple poems at the beginning, "mentors," "a song in the front yard"
- brooks is such a gifted poet and this was really beautiful to read through. it did take me a bit, admittedly...I think splitting this collection in my head into the 3 main collections she put together was really helpful.
- the poems in here still feel incredibly relevant—brooks addresses societal norms around race, class, and ideas of what it means to be happy and what it means to live. I was really moved by so many of her words.
- I loved “kitchenette building." this was my favorite in the whole collection, and I recall it was closer to the start too, I just really loved the diction she chose. she weaves together setting with her themes incredibly well.
- A couple others: the entire book of Annie Allen, especially the first couple poems at the beginning, "mentors," "a song in the front yard"
Want to read
February 20, 2008Again, found this one on the fab GOOGLE. She has a unique canto, and an intimacy found in the things around us, like kitchens, sunsets, garbagemen, mothers and so on.
I copy and paste 'Kitchenette' for your reading pleasure!
Kitchenette Building
We are things of dry hours and the involuntary plan,
Grayed in, and gray. "Dream" mate, a giddy sound, not strong
Like "rent", "feeding a wife", "satisfying a man".
But could a dream sent up through onion fumes
Its white and violet, fight with fried potatoes
And yesterday's garbage ripening in the hall,
Flutter, or sing an aria down these rooms,
Even if we were willing to let it in,
Had time to warm it, keep it very clean,
Anticipate a message, let it begin?
We wonder. But not well! not for a minute!
Since Number Five is out of the bathroom now,
We think of lukewarm water, hope to get in it.
Gwendolyn Brooks
I copy and paste 'Kitchenette' for your reading pleasure!
Kitchenette Building
We are things of dry hours and the involuntary plan,
Grayed in, and gray. "Dream" mate, a giddy sound, not strong
Like "rent", "feeding a wife", "satisfying a man".
But could a dream sent up through onion fumes
Its white and violet, fight with fried potatoes
And yesterday's garbage ripening in the hall,
Flutter, or sing an aria down these rooms,
Even if we were willing to let it in,
Had time to warm it, keep it very clean,
Anticipate a message, let it begin?
We wonder. But not well! not for a minute!
Since Number Five is out of the bathroom now,
We think of lukewarm water, hope to get in it.
Gwendolyn Brooks
February 6, 2019
Let me start with the fact that I am not a poetry reviewer. My criteria is simply that I feel a poem.
Gwendolyn Brooks makes you feel every poem. You get a rhythm. You somehow hear the lilt of her voice just from the words on the page. You see the irony. The details take you there. Her poems paint a picture, evoke strong emotions, and no word is wasted. Her poems are as important a part of history as any history book.
Gwendolyn Brooks makes you feel every poem. You get a rhythm. You somehow hear the lilt of her voice just from the words on the page. You see the irony. The details take you there. Her poems paint a picture, evoke strong emotions, and no word is wasted. Her poems are as important a part of history as any history book.
August 17, 2020
I felt honored to have read this collection, something that marks true wonder for me. Let me learn.
The introduction is well written and necessary for someone walking into the room with Ms. Brooks for the first time.
The introduction is well written and necessary for someone walking into the room with Ms. Brooks for the first time.
November 12, 2008
Sometimes I think to that maybe I can write poetry, maybe just a little bit, and then I read a poet like Gwendolyn Brooks and sigh. Oh well, at least I can read Gwendolyn Brooks!
:)
:)
December 26, 2021
I think it must be lonely to be God.
Nobody loves a master. No. Despite
The bright hosannas, bright dear-Lords, and bright
Determined reverence of Sunday eyes.
Picture Jehovah striding through the hall
Of His importance, creatures running out
From servant-corners to acclaim, to shout
Appreciation of His merit’s glare.
But who walks with Him?—dares to take His arm,
To slap Him on the shoulder, tweak His ear,
Buy Him a Coca-Cola or a beer,
Pooh-pooh His politics, call Him a fool?
Perhaps—who knows?—He tires of looking down.
Those eyes are never lifted. Never straight.
Perhaps sometimes He tires of being great
In solitude. Without a hand to hold.
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 go out in the frosty dark
And sing most terribly.
And all the little people
Will stare at me and say,
“That is the Crazy Woman
Who would not sing in May.
The Egg Boiler
Being you, you cut your poetry from wood.
The boiling of an egg is heavy art.
You come upon it as an artist should,
With rich-eyed passion, and with straining heart.
We fools, we cut our poems out of air,
Night color, wind soprano, and such stuff.
And sometimes weightlessness is much to bear.
You mock it, though, you name it Not Enough.
The egg, spooned gently to the avid pan,
And left the strict three minutes, or the four,
Is your Enough and art for any man.
We fools give courteous ear—then cut some more,
Shaping a gorgeous Nothingness from cloud.
You watch us, eat your egg, and laugh aloud.
I like to see you lean back in your chair
so far you have to fall but do not—
your arms back, your fine hands
in your print pockets.
Beautiful. Impudent.
Ready for life.
A tied storm.
I like to see you wearing your boy smile
whose tribute is for two of us or three.
Sometimes in life
things seem to be moving
and they are not
and they are not
there.
You are there.
Your voice is the listened-for music.
Your act is the consolidation.
I like to see you living in the world.
That’s her story,
You’re going to vanish, not necessarily nicely, fairly soon,
Although essentially dignity itself a death
is not necessarily tidy, modest or discreet.
When they find you
your legs may not be tidy nor aligned.
Your mouth may be all crooked or destroyed.
Black old woman, homeless, indistinct—
Your last and least adventure is Review.
Folks used to celebrate your birthday!
Folks used to say “She’s such a pretty little thing!”
“Folks used to say “She draws such handsome horses, cows and houses,”
Folks used to say “That child is going far.”
Nobody loves a master. No. Despite
The bright hosannas, bright dear-Lords, and bright
Determined reverence of Sunday eyes.
Picture Jehovah striding through the hall
Of His importance, creatures running out
From servant-corners to acclaim, to shout
Appreciation of His merit’s glare.
But who walks with Him?—dares to take His arm,
To slap Him on the shoulder, tweak His ear,
Buy Him a Coca-Cola or a beer,
Pooh-pooh His politics, call Him a fool?
Perhaps—who knows?—He tires of looking down.
Those eyes are never lifted. Never straight.
Perhaps sometimes He tires of being great
In solitude. Without a hand to hold.
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 go out in the frosty dark
And sing most terribly.
And all the little people
Will stare at me and say,
“That is the Crazy Woman
Who would not sing in May.
The Egg Boiler
Being you, you cut your poetry from wood.
The boiling of an egg is heavy art.
You come upon it as an artist should,
With rich-eyed passion, and with straining heart.
We fools, we cut our poems out of air,
Night color, wind soprano, and such stuff.
And sometimes weightlessness is much to bear.
You mock it, though, you name it Not Enough.
The egg, spooned gently to the avid pan,
And left the strict three minutes, or the four,
Is your Enough and art for any man.
We fools give courteous ear—then cut some more,
Shaping a gorgeous Nothingness from cloud.
You watch us, eat your egg, and laugh aloud.
I like to see you lean back in your chair
so far you have to fall but do not—
your arms back, your fine hands
in your print pockets.
Beautiful. Impudent.
Ready for life.
A tied storm.
I like to see you wearing your boy smile
whose tribute is for two of us or three.
Sometimes in life
things seem to be moving
and they are not
and they are not
there.
You are there.
Your voice is the listened-for music.
Your act is the consolidation.
I like to see you living in the world.
That’s her story,
You’re going to vanish, not necessarily nicely, fairly soon,
Although essentially dignity itself a death
is not necessarily tidy, modest or discreet.
When they find you
your legs may not be tidy nor aligned.
Your mouth may be all crooked or destroyed.
Black old woman, homeless, indistinct—
Your last and least adventure is Review.
Folks used to celebrate your birthday!
Folks used to say “She’s such a pretty little thing!”
“Folks used to say “She draws such handsome horses, cows and houses,”
Folks used to say “That child is going far.”
September 16, 2024
I want to read more Gwendolyn Brooks!
I usually feel like a poser when I try to review poetry collections; I'm not "well-versed" in how to convey what makes a poem work in terms of rhyme, pacing, or word choice and placement. But I know a talented poet when I read one, and based on this collection, Brooks was one of the best. I've read some of her stuff before, either in school (though not *for* school, because I don't think any of her works were assigned readings but I did come across her poems in textbooks and read them then), but this is the first time that I've read a collection purely of her own works. And I'm hooked; these poems offer a look at Black life in Chicago and elsewhere, with a rich tapestry of diverse voices that don't conform at all to stereotypes about what it means to be Black in America (or in the world). Beautiful verse about uncomfortable events, or just everyday things that define Blackness in many different ways, never losing sight of the fact that being Black in America is never easy, and to be Black in America is to be presented with challenges that you never asked for because whiteness demands that you conform to its warped view of yourself.
This is just a wonderful, amazing collection, spanning Brooks' entire career, and I want to read more. These are deemed the "essential" poems, but I want to read *all* of the poems. And I will, if I can find more of her work. I loved this collection, and I can't recommend it enough.
I usually feel like a poser when I try to review poetry collections; I'm not "well-versed" in how to convey what makes a poem work in terms of rhyme, pacing, or word choice and placement. But I know a talented poet when I read one, and based on this collection, Brooks was one of the best. I've read some of her stuff before, either in school (though not *for* school, because I don't think any of her works were assigned readings but I did come across her poems in textbooks and read them then), but this is the first time that I've read a collection purely of her own works. And I'm hooked; these poems offer a look at Black life in Chicago and elsewhere, with a rich tapestry of diverse voices that don't conform at all to stereotypes about what it means to be Black in America (or in the world). Beautiful verse about uncomfortable events, or just everyday things that define Blackness in many different ways, never losing sight of the fact that being Black in America is never easy, and to be Black in America is to be presented with challenges that you never asked for because whiteness demands that you conform to its warped view of yourself.
This is just a wonderful, amazing collection, spanning Brooks' entire career, and I want to read more. These are deemed the "essential" poems, but I want to read *all* of the poems. And I will, if I can find more of her work. I loved this collection, and I can't recommend it enough.
October 6, 2017
As a whole, these poems are a fine demonstration of the tension between conversational style and poetic sensibility - that is, they read like ordinary dialogue, except that nobody would actually say in conversation what is said in the poems (for instance, people don't normally speak in imagery). This gives them a lively potency.
On the other hand, rhyming is used very often. While this is not necessarily bad, some of the rhymes clang like a telephone during dinner. Additionally, the tendency to both begin and end lines with a stressed syllable in many of the poems - especially the rhyming ones - is unfortunate.
Overall, this is a good collection, worth reading even without considering the significance of the poet, and I would recommend it to most anyone. It could also serve as an introduction to poetry to somebody who's never read much poetry, or to someone who has never tried modern poetry.
On the other hand, rhyming is used very often. While this is not necessarily bad, some of the rhymes clang like a telephone during dinner. Additionally, the tendency to both begin and end lines with a stressed syllable in many of the poems - especially the rhyming ones - is unfortunate.
Overall, this is a good collection, worth reading even without considering the significance of the poet, and I would recommend it to most anyone. It could also serve as an introduction to poetry to somebody who's never read much poetry, or to someone who has never tried modern poetry.
July 6, 2024
Excellent
September 2, 2021
Gwendolyn Brooks is my favorite poet, and this collection reminded me why. In ninth grade, I was lucky enough to have an English teacher (the indomitable Ms. Ferguson) who guided me to Brooks. I am forever grateful. Brooks is a powerful, evocative poet, who uses every element of the language and the page to convey meaning and provoke emotions. I hadn’t previously read her later work, and I was delighted to find that she discovered a new and possibly more powerful voice toward the end of her career. “Primer for Blacks” is particularly powerful, but many of the final pages of this collection stunned and stirred me.
January 29, 2018
Gwendolyn Brooks takes the reader to the Southside and Mississippi and Little Rock and makes all the necessary introductions. You know what her people don't want you to know, and more than they think she knows. One of the 20th Century's greatest poets.
June 17, 2020
Gwendolyn Brooks' poetry exquisitely examines her world as a Black woman living on the South Side of Chicago. Whether perceived as a mirror or a window, her poems are able both to cut to the heart as well as soothe it. Well worth spending time with.
May 3, 2021
"Conduct your blooming in the noise and whip of the whirlwind."
September 18, 2022
“Sisters! I love you. Because you love you.”
Read
February 8, 2024If you, by some mistake, have ever given my reviews and criticisms any amount of weight, please do not make the mistake of doing so here.
I don’t know a thing about poetry.
I’m home sick with the COVID and for the first few days, despite spending 90% of my time bored out of my mind in bed, I couldn’t bring myself to open a book. Day three, though, I decided to drag myself to a bookshelf and see what I could work with and - lo and behold - I found a copy of this short collection.
I’m not a poetry guy, but, in a past life when I taught eighth grade English, I taught ‘We Real Cool’ and I sort of loved it from the first instant. I remember being observed while I suggested that the line ‘we jazz June’ WASNT about sex (but also implying that maybe it was). Anyway, if I was going to read poetry, I figured Brooks was one I could read.
I’m not sure how to read a book of poetry, to be honest. I think my last attempt was a collection of love poems I bought around a Valentine’s Day that my wife and I took turns reading to one another. (I make an attempt to be the romantic type some times). But the truth is, we never got into it. It became a chore more than anything.
But just opening the book up and reading through it like a novel doesn’t feel right either. How do you read poetry, really?
I thought the echoes of Prufrock in “The Sundays of Satin-Legs Smith” were neat, but would I have even noticed them if it hadn’t been referenced in the forward?
I like to put ratings to everything I read but I’ve decided I’m not qualified to do so here. If you’re looking for a recommendation, read “We Real Cool” and see if it moves you to read more. It’s out of her collection The Bean Eaters, so feel free to check that out specifically instead of this ‘essential’ collection. “A Bronzeville Mother Loiters in Mississippi. Meanwhile, a Mississippi Mother Burns Bacon” is from that collection too and absolutely a stand out. “Bronzeville Woman in a Red Hat” is a winner too.
A favorite line came from “Boy Breaking Glass”:
The only sanity is a cup of tea
The music is on minors
I don’t know a thing about poetry.
I’m home sick with the COVID and for the first few days, despite spending 90% of my time bored out of my mind in bed, I couldn’t bring myself to open a book. Day three, though, I decided to drag myself to a bookshelf and see what I could work with and - lo and behold - I found a copy of this short collection.
I’m not a poetry guy, but, in a past life when I taught eighth grade English, I taught ‘We Real Cool’ and I sort of loved it from the first instant. I remember being observed while I suggested that the line ‘we jazz June’ WASNT about sex (but also implying that maybe it was). Anyway, if I was going to read poetry, I figured Brooks was one I could read.
I’m not sure how to read a book of poetry, to be honest. I think my last attempt was a collection of love poems I bought around a Valentine’s Day that my wife and I took turns reading to one another. (I make an attempt to be the romantic type some times). But the truth is, we never got into it. It became a chore more than anything.
But just opening the book up and reading through it like a novel doesn’t feel right either. How do you read poetry, really?
I thought the echoes of Prufrock in “The Sundays of Satin-Legs Smith” were neat, but would I have even noticed them if it hadn’t been referenced in the forward?
I like to put ratings to everything I read but I’ve decided I’m not qualified to do so here. If you’re looking for a recommendation, read “We Real Cool” and see if it moves you to read more. It’s out of her collection The Bean Eaters, so feel free to check that out specifically instead of this ‘essential’ collection. “A Bronzeville Mother Loiters in Mississippi. Meanwhile, a Mississippi Mother Burns Bacon” is from that collection too and absolutely a stand out. “Bronzeville Woman in a Red Hat” is a winner too.
A favorite line came from “Boy Breaking Glass”:
The only sanity is a cup of tea
The music is on minors
March 24, 2021
Overall I found this collection excellent. Library of America has selected poems from Brooks's earliest and middle period, and late works. I read all of these works out loud, and speaking them is a great experience-- the rhythm is perfect to follow. Set in Chicago- these works cover black lives, white lives, and quite powerfully the interacting between blacks and whites mid to later 20th C. One of the best poetry collections I have read so far in 2021.
Read
February 25, 2023So, admittedly not my favorite, but it turns out Brooks produced poetry in a wide range of styles throughout her life and just including "The Bean Eaters" in an anthology doesn't do her justice.
Standouts for me:
"The Chicago Defender Sends a Man to Little Rock"
"The Boy Died in My Alley"
"The Coora Flower"
"Nineteen Cows in a Slow Live Walking"
Standouts for me:
"The Chicago Defender Sends a Man to Little Rock"
"The Boy Died in My Alley"
"The Coora Flower"
"Nineteen Cows in a Slow Live Walking"
July 15, 2020
Moving seems an inadequate way to describe this body of work. I will return to this collection again and again.
January 7, 2021
The famous ones are still great, but beyond that I found nothing worth shouting about.
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