A Sunset Of The City Poem by Gwendolyn Brooks

A Sunset Of The City

Rating: 3.3


Already I am no longer looked at with lechery or love.
My daughters and sons have put me away with marbles and dolls,
Are gone from the house.
My husband and lovers are pleasant or somewhat polite
And night is night.

It is a real chill out,
The genuine thing.
I am not deceived, I do not think it is still summer
Because sun stays and birds continue to sing.

It is summer-gone that I see, it is summer-gone.
The sweet flowers indrying and dying down,
The grasses forgetting their blaze and consenting to brown.

It is a real chill out. The fall crisp comes
I am aware there is winter to heed.
There is no warm house
That is fitted with my need.

I am cold in this cold house this house
Whose washed echoes are tremulous down lost halls.
I am a woman, and dusty, standing among new affairs.
I am a woman who hurries through her prayers.

Tin intimations of a quiet core to be my
Desert and my dear relief
Come: there shall be such islanding from grief,
And small communion with the master shore.
Twang they. And I incline this ear to tin,
Consult a dual dilemma. Whether to dry
In humming pallor or to leap and die.

Somebody muffed it? ? Somebody wanted to joke.

A Sunset Of The City
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Delilah Miller 11 March 2007

Poor Gwen. She thought she was left behind by the times, but she''s timless and she's lovely.

27 9 Reply
Susan Williams 16 May 2016

Aging is not for the weak- -but then again it is not for the strong. Daily it strips and saps and loosens- it is the greatest thief that ever walked the earth. Eternity is the only cure

13 3 Reply
Ratnakar Mandlik 16 May 2016

Simply superb poem., enjoyed reading it.

10 4 Reply
Matthew 15 November 2017

So hard I can’t do poems

5 5 Reply
Savita Tyagi 16 May 2016

Mesmerizing even in its sadness! No place to hide from life.

4 2 Reply
Idk I guess I like this poem 09 December 2020

I did not read it but by the title it looks good. Good job. Lol

1 0 Reply
Dr Antony Theodore 12 May 2020

I am cold in this cold house this house Whose washed echoes are tremulous down lost halls. I am a woman, and dusty, standing among new affairs. I am a woman who hurries through her prayers. a very good poem. tony

2 0 Reply
harshini 29 August 2019

I loved it. awesome/amazing

3 1 Reply

who cares #no #one #maddman

1 13 Reply

I love this poem ??????????

6 5 Reply
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