Gwendolyn Brooks

(7 June 1917 – 3 December 2000 / Topeka, Kansas)

Gwendolyn Brooks Poems

1. Jessie Mitchell’s Mother 1/17/2012
2. Mayor Harold Washington 1/17/2012
3. A Penitent Considers Another Coming Of Mary 1/17/2012
4. Of De Witt Williams On His Way To Lincoln Cemetery 1/17/2012
5. The Sermon On The Warpland 1/17/2012
6. The Life Of Lincoln West 1/17/2012
7. The Rites For Cousin Vit 1/17/2012
8. One Wants A Teller In A Time Like This 4/20/2012
9. The Blackstone Rangers 1/17/2012
10. The Sundays Of Satin-Legs Smith 1/17/2012
11. The Vacant Lot 1/17/2012
12. The Children Of The Poor 1/17/2012
13. Riot 1/17/2012
14. Boy Breaking Glass 1/17/2012
15. Young Afrikans 1/17/2012
16. Of Robert Frost 1/17/2012
17. When You Have Forgotten Sunday: The Love Story 1/17/2012
18. Primer For Blacks 1/17/2012
19. Truth 1/17/2012
20. A Song In The Front Yard 1/17/2012
21. Garbageman: The Man With The Orderly Mind 1/1/2004
22. Kitchenette Building 1/1/2004
23. The Independent Man 1/1/2004
24. The Sonnet-Ballad 1/20/2003
25. The Lovers Of The Poor 1/20/2003
26. A Sunset Of The City 1/1/2004
27. The Good Man 1/1/2004
28. The Ballad Of Rudolph Reed 1/1/2004
29. My Dreams, My Works, Must Wait Till After Hell 1/1/2004
30. A Bronzeville Mother Loiters In Mississippi. Meanwhile, A Mississippi Mother Burns Bacon 1/1/2004
31. To The Diaspora 1/1/2004
32. Speech To The Young : Speech To The Progress-Toward 1/1/2004
33. The Bean Eaters 1/20/2003
34. Sadie And Maud 1/1/2004
35. The Crazy Woman 1/1/2004
36. To Be In Love 1/1/2004
37. The Mother 1/20/2003
38. We Real Cool 1/20/2003
Best Poem of Gwendolyn Brooks

We Real Cool

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.

Read the full of We Real Cool

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 a wife.
You'd let her twirl you, give her a good glee
Showing your leaping ruby to a friend.
Though twirling would be meek. Since not a cork
Could you allow, for being made so free.

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