When I Met the First African-American Pulitzer Prize Winner

Despite being busy working on a means of getting bread and butter, I decided I would take a brief break and write this post so it will not be too belated.  Today is the birthday of poetess Gwendolyn Brooks.  I like words like "poetess" because despite being perhaps dated by some, I feel just calling her a "poet" sounds neutered and draws away from what she really was, a great female poet.  I'm just not into the kind of neutered nonsense a lot of people gravitate towards in the culture. For me that even applies to language.  Gwendolyn Brooks wasn't a guy or an it, she was a woman poet, and that doesn't negate her greatness in any way.  

Gwendolyn Brooks (1917-2000) was the first African-American to receive the Pulitzer Prize for her literary work.  She was the Poet Laureate of Illinois.  She was also a politically conscious poet.  

And one day in 1984, I met her.  When I was an undergraduate student at The University of Georgia, she came to speak in a small classroom in the evening in the English department.  I remember a very ordinary looking woman who had a giant presence and intellect.  I talked to her briefly and got her autograph and address. Photos of the flyer and her autograph are below.  

She encouraged me to write to her.  I did write to her once and sent her some poems I wrote, but my heart just was not into poetry writing back then the way it is now. I lacked confidence, not that I'm a mountain of confidence nowadays about my poetry, but I have much more than I did in those days.  I believe I still have the note she sent back to me along with my poetry.  I can't find it right now, but I remember she wrote that I had a good imagination. 

Goodreads.com, which I refer to as a social networking site for book lovers, posts a quote of the day which I receive in my e-mail.  Today was Gwendolyn Brooks' turn.  The quote of the day was by her.

Live not for Battles Won.
Live not for The-End-of-the-Song.
Live in the along. 

I also like this quote of her's. 

Writing is a delicious agony.  

Indeed it is.  

(I will be back with more of my own poetry soon.)