Gertz Reads Black History Poetry of Gwendolyn Brooks Lucille Clifton Nikki Giovanni Alice Walker

Gwendolyn Brooks ( )

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.

QUESTIONS What could “honey” and “bread” symbolize in the poem? Why does the narrator have to wait? What do you think the author mean by “hell”?

Alice Walker (1944-)

Before you knew you owned it by Alice Walker Expect nothing. Live frugally On surprise. become a stranger To need of pity Or, if compassion be freely Given out Take only enough Stop short of urge to plead Then purge away the need. frugally: being careful with money- not spending a lot. purge: clear away, get rid of

Wish for nothing larger Than your own small heart Or greater than a star; Tame wild disappointment With caress unmoved and cold Make of it a parka For your soul. parka: hooded jacket

Discover the reason why So tiny human midget Exists at all So scared unwise But expect nothing. Live frugally On surprise.

Questions 1. What do you think it means to “live frugally on surprise” ? 2. What other advice about life does the narrator give the reader?

Nikki Giovanni (1943- )

All I Gotta Do all i gotta do is sit and wait sit and wait and it's gonna find me all i gotta do is sit and wait if i can learn how

what i need to do is sit and wait cause i'm a woman sit and wait what i gotta do is sit and wait cause i'm a woman it'll find me

you get yours and i'll get mine if i learn to sit and wait you got yours i want mine and i'm gonna get it cause i gotta get it cause i need to get it if i learn how

thought about calling for it on the phone asked for a delivery but they didn't have it thought about going to the store to get it walked to the corner but they didn't have it

called your name in my sleep sitting and waiting thought you would awake me called your name lying in my bed but you didn't have it offered to go get it but you didn't have it so i'm sitting

all i know is sitting and waiting waiting and sitting cause i'm a woman all i know is sitting and waiting cause i gotta wait wait for it to find me

Questions 1. What do you think “it” is? 2. Why does being woman mean that she has to wait?

Nikki-Rosa by Nikki Giovanni Childhood rememberances are always a drag if you're Black you always remember things like living in Woodlawn with no inside toilet and if you become famous or something

They never talk about how happy you were to have your mother all to yourself and how good the water felt when you got your bath from one of those

Big tubs that folk in chicago barbeque in and somehow when you talk about home it never gets across how much you understood their feelings as the whole family attended meetings

About Hollydale and even though you remember your biographers never understand your father's pain as he sells his stock and another dream goes

And though you're poor it isn't poverty that concerns you and though they fought a lot it isn't your father's drinking that makes any difference but only that

Everybody is together and you and your sister have happy birthdays and very good Christmases and I really hope no white person ever has cause to write about me because they never understand

Black love is Black wealth and they'll probably talk about my hard childhood and never understand that all the while I was quite happy

Questions 1. How does the author feel about her childhood? How do you know? 2. If someone from a culture other than your own were to write about your childhood would they get it right? What would they focus on and what would they leave out?

Lucille Clifton ( )

The following poem refers to the 1998 hate-crime murder of James Byrd Jr. in Jasper, a small town in east Texas. Byrd, an African-American man was beaten and then dragged behind a truck by a group of white supremacists. Byrd died when his body hit a culvert (part of a road that passes over a sewer or a drain) and his head and arm were torn from his body.

jasper texas 1998 by Lucille Clifton for j. byrd

i am a man's head hunched in the road. i was chosen to speak by the members of my body. the arm as it pulled away pointed toward me, the hand opened once and was gone.

why and why and why should i call a white man brother? who is the human in this place, the thing that is dragged or the dragger? what does my daughter say?

the sun is a blister overhead. if i were alive i could not bear it. the townsfolk sing we shall overcome while hope bleeds slowly from my mouth into the dirt that covers us all. i am done with this dust. i am done.

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