Speech to the Young

Speech to the Young : Speech to the Progress-Toward

Say to them,
say to the down-keepers,
the sun-slappers,
the self-soilers,
the harmony-hushers,
"even if you are not ready for day
it cannot always be night."
You will be right.
For that is the hard home-run.

Live not for battles won.
Live not for the-end-of-the-song.
Live in the along. 

Gwendolyn Brooks was a proud woman. The beginning of her writing career was not focused on the Civil Rights movement. Up until 1967 she focused on poetry on other topics instead. It wasn't until she started teaching at Fisk University did she "rediscover her blackness"

This particular poem was written after her rediscovery of her blackness. One of her main thoughts on ridding the world of racial segregation was to teach the children about their rights and to learn that their heritage was something to be proud of. She speaks to the youth, in this poem to call them to act like her. The poem isn't a sonnet but the last few lines have good end rhyme and the lines above all end in an "ers" sound. It is written in second person to aspire the youth to focus on the battle ahead. She points out though that you must not count every single win as the end because there is always so much more to be fought for. 

A riot is the language of the unheard. MLK

A riot is the language of the unheard. 
—martin luther king

John Cabot, out of Wilma, once a Wycliffe,
all whitebluerose below his golden hair,
wrapped richly in right linen and right wool,
almost forgot his Jaguar and Lake Bluff;
almost forgot Grandtully (which is The
Best Thing That Ever Happened To Scotch); almost
forgot the sculpture at the Richard Gray
and Distelheim; the kidney pie at Maxim’s,
the Grenadine de Boeuf at Maison Henri.

Because the Negroes were coming down the street.

Because the Poor were sweaty and unpretty
(not like Two Dainty Negroes in Winnetka)
and they were coming toward him in rough ranks.
In seas. In windsweep. They were black and loud.
And not detainable. And not discreet.

Gross. Gross. “Que tu es grossier!” John Cabot
itched instantly beneath the nourished white
that told his story of glory to the World.
“Don’t let It touch me! the blackness! Lord!” he whispered
to any handy angel in the sky.
But, in a thrilling announcement, on It drove
and breathed on him: and touched him. In that breath
the fume of pig foot, chitterling and cheap chili,
malign, mocked John. And, in terrific touch, old
averted doubt jerked forward decently,
cried, “Cabot! John! You are a desperate man,
and the desperate die expensively today.”

John Cabot went down in the smoke and fire
and broken glass and blood, and he cried “Lord!
Forgive these nigguhs that know not what they do.” 

Does anyone else want to slap John Cabot? It is hard to believe that this was a common occurrence in the past and still happens in today's world. The poem is set up similar to a story. I don't know where or if there is a line that separates short stories and poetry but I believe that this can go either way. The poem is set up by describing the man walking down the street, coming across Black men and begins to break down. There is a lot of good imagery in this poem that add to create an image of Cabot and keep the reader interested. Such intensity between races. This likely never actually happened but I like the fact that Brooks went out on a limb, creating a white man as the main character and showing how they treat the Blacks. I really enjoyed the poem!

Primer For Blacks

Ms. Gwendolyn Brooks doesn't hide her opinion or leave the meaning of her poem to be left for interpretation. She out right, with no shame or second thought writes "Primer For Blacks" for the public, disregarding society's likely judgement.

Primer For Blacks

Blackness
is a title,
is a preoccupation,
is a commitment Blacks
are to comprehend—
and in which you are
to perceive your Glory.

The conscious shout
of all that is white is
“It’s Great to be white.”
The conscious shout
of the slack in Black is
'It's Great to be white.'
Thus all that is white
has white strength and yours.

The word Black
has geographic power,
pulls everybody in:
Blacks here—
Blacks there—
Blacks wherever they may be.
And remember, you Blacks, what they told you—
remember your Education:
“one Drop—one Drop
maketh a brand new Black.”
Oh mighty Drop.
______And because they have given us kindly
so many more of our people

Blackness
stretches over the land.
Blackness—
the Black of it,
the rust-red of it,
the milk and cream of it,
the tan and yellow-tan of it,
the deep-brown middle-brown high-brown of it,
the “olive” and ochre of it—
Blackness
marches on.

The huge, the pungent object of our prime out-ride
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. 

Where do I even begin? This is an extremely powerful piece of poetry with many interesting techniques and points to focus on. I'm going to make this blog not so much about the literary composition of the poem but more of the emotions I feel on it. It is a lengthy free verse poem focused on Brook's belief of Black superiority. There is a lot of repetition and use of capital letters to add emphasis to certain words.

I can't relate to the feelings of a female Black poet during the period in which Brooks wrote so I have a bit of trouble finding the and understanding exactly what her words mean to a person experiencing that persecution for their skin color. I can relate, though, to the fact that she is angered deeply that a group she identifies herself with is being segregated and treated unfairly because they stray from the "norm". I very much admire the courage it took for her to write this poem as well as many others as the topics were not welcomed warmly. She didn't care though, all she knew is that she had something to say, a belief that she wanted people to hear and to do her part to inspire pride of Blacks. 

"We Real Cool" by Gwendolyn Brooks

I picked Gwendolyn Brooks because frankly, she has an awesome name. I wasn't sure if I would enjoy her poetry but after some research, reading her biography and a good amount of her published work, I've come to respect her talent and ability to write on the reality of Blacks in Topeka during the Civil Rights period. I enjoy learning about black heritage and her poetry gives a personal account of her experiences and observations. This particular poem caught my eye because of the title, as it sounded like the actual dialect of blacks during this period of time. "We Real Cool" is a combination of personal observation and her feelings about the situations.

We real cool. We
Left school. We 

Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We 

Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We 

Jazz June. We
Die soon.

I think this poem, although written in 1972, can be applied to modern day society. Many teens follow the same patterns. It's interesting that these patterns break all racial and socio-economic barriers. All teenagers search for independence, looking for something to define themselves. We, as a group of equal people act out on who we are supposed to be. We ditch school, some drink, listen to music, and live as if today is all they have. This poem does the job in taking the experience of blacks and making a broad description of a time in a person's life when all of us are searching for ourselves.