Who is Gwendolyn Brooks

Gwendolyn Elizabeth Brooks (June 7, 1917 – December 3, 2000) was an American poet, author, and teacher. Her work often dealt with the personal celebrations and struggles of ordinary people in her community. She won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry on May 1, 1950, for Annie Allen, making her the first African American to receive the Pulitzer.

Throughout her prolific writing career, Brooks received many more honors. She was appointed Poet Laureate of Illinois in 1968, a position she held until her death, and what is now the Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress for the 1985–86 term. In 1976, she became the first African-American woman inducted into the American Academy of Arts and Letters.

Brooks was born in Topeka, Kansas and at six-weeks...
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Top 10 most used topics by Gwendolyn Brooks

I Love You 15 Love 15 Black 10 Time 10 Sweet 9 Never 8 Home 8 Door 8 Night 8 Sun 7

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Comments about Gwendolyn Brooks

  • Whats_his_face: we lurk late we strike straight we sing sin we thin gin we - jazz june - we die soon. gwendolyn brooks, detroit michigan. 1966
  • Phdkey: can someone tell me how i can go about getting gwendolyn brooks' maud martha back in print? it is easily one of my favorite texts to teach and the essays students write about it are always top tier.
  • Cloudcounty_mbb: official welcome to kyle mcelroy from gwendolyn brooks in chicago, illinois. kyle joins the t-birds after coming 1 rebound short of averaging a double-double in the chicago public league during his senior season
  • Poem2poem: a sunset's mounded cloud; / a diamond evening-star; - gwendolyn brooks
  • Badformreview: 'how she loved a “hike.” especially in the evening, for then everything was moody, odd, deliciously threatening, always hunched and ready to close in on you but never doing so.' read the full extract of 'maud martha' by gwendolyn brooks!
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Poem of the day

Ernest Dowson Poem
Vain Hope
 by Ernest Dowson

Sometimes, to solace my sad heart, I say,
Though late it be, though lily-time be past,
Though all the summer skies be overcast,
Haply I will go down to her, some day,
And cast my rests of life before her feet,
That she may have her will of me, being so sweet
And none gainsay!


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