We Real Cool
The Pool Players.
Seven at the Golden Shovel.
We real cool. We
Left school. We
Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We
Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We
Jazz June.We
Die soon.
By: Gwendolyn Brooks
We Old Dudes
We old dudes. We
White shoes. We
Golf ball. We
Eat mall. We
Soak teeth. We
Palm Beach; We
Vote red. We
Soon dead.
By: John Murray
What I find interesting about both of these poems is their rhythmic quality. It seems as though the lyrics should have a beat behind them, giving the poems a chantlike feature. The beat could be the hearts of these people, quickly reaching the inevitable destination of death. However, for the old dudes, they don't have a choice. The old dudes lived a long life, and are quietly appeasing death. In contrast, those slick cool dudes want to die young. It's their choice, going with the flow. Their hearts beat faster and faster until their bodies can't take it anymore. Live fast, and die young. Isn't that just the consequence of being cool?
