Poetry


The Mother
by
Gwendolyn Brooks

Abortions will not let you forget.
You remember the children you got that you did not get,
The damp small pulps with a little or with no hair,
The singers and workers that never handled the air.
You will never neglect or beat
Them, or silence or buy with a sweet.
You will never wind up the sucking-thumb
Or scuttle off ghosts that come.
You will never leave them, controlling your luscious sigh,
Return for a snack of them, with gobbling mother-eye.
I have heard in the voices of the wind the voices of my dim killed
children.
I have contracted. I have eased
My dim dears at the breasts they could never suck.
I have said, Sweets, if I sinned, if I seized
Your luck
And your lives from your unfinished reach,
If I stole your births and your names,
Your straight baby tears and your games,
Your stilted or lovely loves, your tumults, your marriages, aches,
and your deaths,
If I poisoned the beginnings of your breaths,
Believe that even in my deliberateness I was not deliberate.
Though why should I whine,
Whine that the crime was other than mine?--
Since anyhow you are dead.
Or rather, or instead,
You were never made.
But that too, I am afraid,
Is faulty: oh, what shall I say, how is the truth to be said?
You were born, you had body, you died.
It is just that you never giggled or planned or cried.
Believe me, I loved you all.
Believe me, I knew you, though faintly, and I loved, I loved you
All.
From A Street in Bronzeville by Gwendolyn Brooks, published by Harper & Brothers. © 1945 by Gwendolyn Brooks. Used with permission. All rights reserved

Alone
by Maya Angelou


Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don't believe I'm wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.
There are some millionaires
With money they can't use
Their wives run round like banshees
Their children sing the blues
They've got expensive doctors
To cure their hearts of stone.
But nobody
No, nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Now if you listen closely
I'll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan,
'Cause nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Destiny
by Rosario Castellanos

Destiny
We kill what we love. What’s left
Was never alive.
No one else is close. What is forgotten,
What else is absent or less, hurts no one else.
We kill what we love. Enough of drawing a choked breath
Through someone else’s lung!
There is not air enough for both of us. And the earth will not hold
Both our bodies
And our ration of hope is small
And pain cannot be shared.
Man is an animal of solitudes,
A deer that bleeds as it flees
With an arrow in its side.
Ah, but hatred with its insomniac
Glass eyes; its attitude
Of menace and repose.
The deer goes to drink and a tiger
Is reflected in the water.
The deer drinks the water and the image. And becomes
-before he is devoured – (accomplice, fascinated)
his enemy.
We give life only to what we hate.

Sunday, October 21, 2007

The Love For Life

Gwendolyn brooks poem about abortion is beautiful and meaningful, the way that she describes the feelings related with this type of action. She describes vividly how the baby cries or looks for food all the way to planning and experiencing things later in life, and that all of these things the child will never experience. Her poem is incredibly honest and open. It would seem almost like an addmission of guilt for doing something were this girl had no choice, maybe due to circumstances out of her control. She explains that even though the baby is taken out before it is fully grown, that she still felt a deep connection even though she never met the baby. Alone, by Maya Angelou, is a poem about the needs that everyone has. That even though we feel that we are on this earth just for ourselves, we can't forget that the reason that we are able to do what we do is because of the people around us, and the people that were before us that made the mistakes that we don't have to make. She explains that a rich man has a heart of stone, because he spends all of his time creating wealth, while his family suffers. Explaining that in this life we have to lean on each other. Rosario Castellanos poem called Destiny, is a beautiful poem about the way that people react when they love something. That people draw all the energy out of this thing until there is nothing left. That by loving something is to dominate and eventually kill it, so that you devour that love. In life today you see this all the time in the way that people react in some relationships. They feel that just because they declare their love for someone, that they have the right to be abusive to thing they that their supposed to love.

2 comments:

Nabin said...

Dont get me wrong it is beautiful because it is afterall "poetic" but there are times when you can only see one side when there are actually two.

SmithsHolley said...

Hey JDowney,
The poem about abortion was extremely vivid. It's things like that that make you take a good minute to think before you react regarding sex. The dynamics between the connection of two to bring show their affection can change quickly once that child has been concieved. Your description was really on point.