Gwendolyn Brooks

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

Boy Breaking Glass - Poem by Gwendolyn Brooks

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To Marc Crawford
from whom the commission
Whose broken window is a cry of art
(success, that winks aware
as elegance, as a treasonable faith)
is raw: is sonic: is old-eyed première.
Our beautiful flaw and terrible ornament.
Our barbarous and metal little man.

“I shall create! If not a note, a hole.
If not an overture, a desecration.”

Full of pepper and light
and Salt and night and cargoes.

“Don’t go down the plank
if you see there’s no extension.
Each to his grief, each to
his loneliness and fidgety revenge.
Nobody knew where I was and now I am no longer there.”

The only sanity is a cup of tea.
The music is in minors.

Each one other
is having different weather.

“It was you, it was you who threw away my name!
And this is everything I have for me.”

Who has not Congress, lobster, love, luau,
the Regency Room, the Statue of Liberty,
runs. A sloppy amalgamation.
A mistake.
A cliff.
A hymn, a snare, and an exceeding sun.


Comments about Boy Breaking Glass by Gwendolyn Brooks

  • Rookie - 0 Points Tom Putin (9/15/2014 10:39:00 AM)

    This review was very helpful the product really works THANKS! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! (Report) Reply

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  • Rookie Sailor Stephens (9/24/2012 7:34:00 PM)

    “I shall create! If not a note, a hole.
    If not an overture, a desecration.”

    Absolutely beautiful. Already Reported Reply

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, January 17, 2012



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