A writing challenge, who I am....
One of the writing groups I'm in had a poetry challenge, using a few of the lines from this poem by Gwendolyn Brooks to make a new one. Here is hers, mine is at the bottom, hope you enjoy!
A SONG IN THE FRONT YARD
by Gwendolyn Brooks
I've stayed in the front yard all my life.
I want a peek at the back
Where it's rough and untended and hungry weed grows.
A girl gets sick of a rose...
I want to go in the back yard now
And maybe down the alley,
To where the charity children play.
I want a good time today.
They do some wonderful things.
The have some wonderful fun.
My mother sneers, but I say it's fine
How they don't have to go in at quarter to nine.
My mother, she tells me that Johnnie Mae
Will grow up to be a bad woman.
That George'll be taken to Jail soon or late
(On account of last winter he sold our back gate).
But I say it's fine Honest, I do
And I'd like to be a bad woman, too,
And wear the brave stocking of night-black lace
And strut down the streets with paint on my face.
AND MY TAKE ON IT.....
Transposed
I play in the back
where its rough and
untended and hungry
weed grows
♦
I long for the front
with pretty flowers
sunshine laughter
where I am my mama knows
♦
I play in the back
where dreams die
untended and hope
is disposed
♦
Please grant me the front
warnings, concern
full belly and heart
who I am transposed
A SONG IN THE FRONT YARD
by Gwendolyn Brooks
I've stayed in the front yard all my life.
I want a peek at the back
Where it's rough and untended and hungry weed grows.
A girl gets sick of a rose...
I want to go in the back yard now
And maybe down the alley,
To where the charity children play.
I want a good time today.
They do some wonderful things.
The have some wonderful fun.
My mother sneers, but I say it's fine
How they don't have to go in at quarter to nine.
My mother, she tells me that Johnnie Mae
Will grow up to be a bad woman.
That George'll be taken to Jail soon or late
(On account of last winter he sold our back gate).
But I say it's fine Honest, I do
And I'd like to be a bad woman, too,
And wear the brave stocking of night-black lace
And strut down the streets with paint on my face.
AND MY TAKE ON IT.....
Transposed
I play in the back
where its rough and
untended and hungry
weed grows
♦
I long for the front
with pretty flowers
sunshine laughter
where I am my mama knows
♦
I play in the back
where dreams die
untended and hope
is disposed
♦
Please grant me the front
warnings, concern
full belly and heart
who I am transposed
Comments
Post a Comment