Gwendolyn Brooks

Around 1967, Gwendolyn Brooks became more political in her writing. She wanted to show the experiences and mistreatment of black Americans. In “of De Witt Williams on his way to Lincoln Cemetery” Brooks describes the passing of a black boy. She described a very simple individual, who participated in quite average pastimes: “Drive him past the Pool Hall. Drive him past the Show….Don’t forget the Dance Halls—Warwick and Savoy, Where he picked his women, where He drank his liquid joy.” This showed that this average black man was no different than the average white man: “He was nothing but a plain black boy.” Despite being quite similar, the black boy has to live in more impoverished and crime ridden areas, which resulted in his life and aspirations being cut short. In the second poem, “The Boy Died in My Alley” Brooks elaborates on that boy. This poem feels more personal and is more detailed, but is still addressing the same issue. She still writes that it is a simple boy who had his life needlessly cut short: “I have known this boy before, who ornaments my alley. I never saw his face at all. I never saw his futurefall. But I have known this Boy.” She may have not known the boy personally, but she knew the boy, because the boy was all of them. The boy represented all the black Americans who are victim to mistreatment and negligence. This time she describes the area that they are all stuck living in: “The Shot that killed him yes I heard as I heard the Thousand shots before; careening tinnily down the nights across my years and arteries.” The black Americans are stuck in these bad neighborhoods because the government has chosen to neglect them, and they cannot escape because they are stuck in poverty because of the lack of equal opportunity. This poem evokes more emotion because of the more detailed account of the situation, but I still prefer the first one. I prefer “of De Witt Williams on his way to Lincoln Cemetery” because it feels more elegant, through its simplicity. It also requires more thought and there are more possible interpretations. You cannot just read this poem, but instead you have to dwell on it. I feel like you can get away with just reading “The Boy Died in My Alley.”