Young Afrikans Poem by Gwendolyn Brooks
Young Afrikans
of the furious
Who take Today and jerk it out of joint
have made new underpinnings and a Head.
Blacktime is time for chimeful
poemhood
but they decree a
jagged chiming now.
If there are flowers flowers
must come out to the road. Rowdy!—
knowing where wheels and people are,
knowing where whips and screams are,
knowing where deaths are, where the kind kills are.
As for that other kind of kindness,
if there is milk it must be mindful.
The milkofhumankindness must be mindful
as wily wines.
Must be fine fury.
Must be mega, must be main.
Taking Today (to jerk it out of joint)
the hardheroic maim the
leechlike-as-usual who use,
adhere to, carp, and harm.
And they await,
across the Changes and the spiraling dead,
our Black revival, our Black vinegar,
our hands, and our hot blood.
TWO: for the freedom of Black Souh Africa. Some foreign words in the poem that I cannot transpose in mind, but I do understand the shouts clearly, perhaps languages/dialects from South Africa self. She was truly happy for South Africa with the first black president. A great pity is, that she had not known at all that an Afro American had won the elections and became the first black president of the USA, since she died in 2000.
ONE: Almost all her poems are laden with black themes as the subject. So she knew that Mandela became the first president and I have the idea that she was able to see these all herself and experienced that. Her poems are still strong metaphors, not really straight to the enemy, but a powerful token of a conscious black woman
Wow! Such firey words. Energy of youth needs compassionate, protective hands and wise and strong direction. Wonderful poem.
Powerful commentary on why the fury never ends despite changing climes.
The boiling anguish of black youths from Africa and their injured and oppressed egos, for a long time, expressed in an impressive way. Well deserved modern poem of the day.
they await, across the Changes and the spiraling dead, our Black revival, our Black vinegar, our hands, // beautiful poetic expression on the encouragement of young spirit
Such a surreal, innovative poem about oppression and the need for social justice. It brilliantly, and seemingly effortlessly, weaves numerous dialects into its structure
THREE: As I have read her poem and these lines time and again, WOW! How energetic she was to relive the true occurrences of reality in her poems. Her words as written above: .....knowing where whips and screams are, knowing where deaths are, where the kind kills are....these are truly powerful words. Indeed youth must have wise and strong direction. CONGRATULATIONS to her family in the USA for being chosen as Modern PoemOTD
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/30/2023 12:38:33 AM # 1.0.0.1113
Such a great write by Gwendolyn Brooks....