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Click hereyou wrote your poems as simple ones
of and for a people who pawned
possessions for Christmas gifts,
the kind of verse little girls
jump rope to, adding words
Miss Mary
Mack,
Mack, Mack,
All dressed in
black,
black, black,
tasting mint juleps
on the veranda
with my mammy
black,
black, black.
You knew as well the smell of butts
the size of nicotine fingertips,
the scent of cats, human drool
trapped in tenement hallways,
hopeful choruses from choirs and pews,
and gandydancers on the track,
singing sweet and sour blues.
I dont really understand those indents in the middle (perhaps its a poetic craft), but the poem works brilliantly for me. The image you have captured is vivid and poetic. It just goes to show, poetry is not always about deep philosophical truths, it truly is an art of expressing one's observations poetically. Thank you greenmounainteer for this lovely gem
I especially like the assonance in the latter part of the poem. Not especially familiar with Hughes' poems, so I don't know if you're trying to evoke the style or not, but I enjoyed this poem a lot.