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This poem is focused on the younger people of the period when Brooks, the author, was alive. Gwendolyn Brooks lived during a time in which black people were considered second class people. The poem describes that type of city life she was living in. But the change in the world is soon to come, as "they wait, across the changes and the spiraling dead..." (Brooks, Ln 23-24) The change in the world is expected, and all the people of this race are waiting for it. This is more of an inspiration type of poem instead of a mourning type. Remembering the past is an important concept implied into the poem. "Rowdy!--... knowing where whips and screams are, knowing where deaths are, where the kind kills are." (Brooks, Ln 7-11) She is saying to know and realize the deaths and cruel treatment this race has gotten in the past. She was  an accomplished author that had always gotten her point through to her audience.

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https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/young-afrikans/

https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-children-of-the-poor/
http://www.notablebiographies.com/Br-Ca/Brooks-Gwendolyn.html
historical context and info

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The poem "the children of the Poor" written by Gwendolyn Brooks is based on Children's living conditions in the mid 1900's. Brooks lived through the great depression which most likely lead too a poem about poor family's. The great depression in America effected the whole economy, the rich and the poor. Family's are still suffering to this day from the market crash. The poem speaks of the parents that don't have anything to give to their children because they cant afford anything: "What shall I give my children? who are poor" (line 15). The children would beg but the parents would give all that they could possibly afford. Gwendolyn tried showed the pain and suffering that the children went through saying "Nor grief nor love shall be enough alone" (line 26). Love is all that the parents had and in this poem Gwendolyn shows the suffering with the upmost respect.

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1. Foreshadowing- (literary work of clues that suggest events that have yet to occur) " across the changes and the spiraling dead..." (Brooks, Ln. 24) This shows in the future how there is going be a change and not as much death upon them.
2. Aphorism- (a general truth or observation of life) "Nor grief nor love shall be enough alone" (Brooks 28)
The observation of life is understanding that sometimes love isn't enough.
3. Imagery- (descriptive language used to recreate sensory) "Mites, come invade most frugal vestibules" ( Brooks 32) The imagery of the poor is given so we can relate or understand there living conditions.
4.Ambiguity-(the intentional or unintentional expression of a word or idea that implies more than one meaning...) "...milkofhumankindness..."(Brooks, Ln. 15) This phrase or word was a prime example of when she was giving an example not to use all of the milk in the bottle, in other words, don't forget the past of this generation.
5. Metaphor-( comparison of two unlike things without using "like" or "as") "...must be mega, must be main." (Brooks, Ln.18) This is a comparison with understanding the main idea of that time period and understanding the broad view of her time period.
6. Refrain-(a regularly repeated line or group of lines...) " Must be fine fury. Must be mega, must be main." (Brooks, Ln 17-18) She emphasizes these lines with the repitition of the words "must be" which gives the serious tone to the poem.

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These 2 poems were written by Gwendolyn Brooks, a women born on June 7, 1917 in Topeka Kansas. She grew up an outcast based on her race, and later became a writer writing about the current politics and world problems, she passed away on December 3, 2000 after being known as one of the top 100 in the world.

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People who have no children can be hard:
Attain a mail of ice and insolence:
Need not pause in the fire, and in no sense
Hesitate in the hurricane to guard.
And when wide world is bitten and bewarred
They perish purely, waving their spirits hence
Without a trace of grace or of offense
To laugh or fail, diffident, wonder-starred.
While through a throttling dark we others hear
The little lifting helplessness, the queer
Whimper-whine; whose unridiculous
Lost softness softly makes a trap for us.
And makes a curse. And makes a sugar of
The malocclusions, the inconditions of love.

What shall I give my children? who are poor,
Who are adjudged the leastwise of the land,
Who are my sweetest lepers, who demand
No velvet and no velvety velour;
But who have begged me for a brisk contour,
Crying that they are quasi, contraband
Because unfinished, graven by a hand
Less than angelic, admirable or sure.
My hand is stuffed with mode, design, device.
But I lack access to my proper stone.
And plenitude of plan shall not suffice
Nor grief nor love shall be enough alone
To ratify my little halves who bear
Across an autumn freezing everywhere.

And shall I prime my children, pray, to pray?
Mites, come invade most frugal vestibules
Spectered with crusts of penitents’ renewals
And all hysterics arrogant for a day.
Instruct yourselves here is no devil to pay.
Children, confine your lights in jellied rules;
Resemble graves; be metaphysical mules.
Learn Lord will not distort nor leave the fray.
Behind the scurryings of your neat motif
I shall wait, if you wish: revise the psalm
If that should frighten you: sew up belief
If that should tear: turn, singularly calm
At forehead and at fingers rather wise,
Holding the bandage ready for your eyes.

Gwendolyn Brooks

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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.

Gwendolyn Brooks