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

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a song in the front yard

I’ve stayed in the front yard all my life.
I want a peek at the back
Where it’s rough and untended and hungry weed grows.
A girl gets sick of a rose.

I want to go in the back yard now
And maybe down the alley,
To where the charity children play.
I want a good time today.

They do some wonderful things.
They have some wonderful fun.
My mother sneers, but I say it’s fine
How they don’t have to go in at quarter to nine.
My mother, she tells me that Johnnie Mae
Will grow up to be a bad woman.
That George’ll be taken to Jail soon or late
(On account of last winter he sold our back gate).

But I say it’s fine. Honest, I do.
And I’d like to be a bad woman, too,
And wear the brave stockings of night-black lace
And strut down the streets with paint on my face.

Submitted: Tuesday, January 17, 2012


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Comments about this poem (Primer For Blacks by Gwendolyn Brooks )

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  • Stephen W (3/17/2013 2:47:00 PM)

    A stupid and irresponsible poem.

    8 person liked.
    32 person did not like.
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