Thursday, February 16, 2006

NARCISSA by Gwendolyn Brooks

Some of the girls are playing jacks.

Some are playing ball.

But small Narcissa is not playing

Anything at all.



Small Narcissa sits upon

A brick in her back yard

And looks at tiger-lilies,

And shakes her pigtails hard.

First she is an ancient queen

In pomp and purple veil.

Soon she is a singing wind.

And, next, a nightingale.

How fine to be Narcissa

A-changing like all that!

While sitting still, as still, as still,

As anyone ever sat!

The poetry of Chicagoan Gwendolyn Brooks, I've admired since I was a kid... but I only became aware of her short & sweet 'Narcissa' (written before I was born, probably) about a year after completion of my graphic novel. Her description of the child, blissfully alone, is a comfortable match with how I see Narcissa. And now she's gone home for a visit.

2 Comments:

Anonymous bob said...

this is one of the best poems i have ever red

5:58 PM  
Blogger www.LanceTooks.com said...

Gwendolyn Brooks is the best of the best!

9:05 PM  

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