Born in Vincennes, Indiana, in August 1940, Brenda Hopper was the oldest (surviving) child of Carl and Roberta Hopper. Their first child died during birth. Brenda has one younger brother and four younger sisters.
The family moved to Indianapolis, Indiana, sometime in her early childhood, and when she was around 5 or 6, they converted to Catholicism after becoming close friends with another couple. This upbringing, as we’ll see through her poetry, heavily influences her view of the world.
The first two poems in her collection give us an early peek at her outlook. Enjoy!
Broken Heart (#1) © Brenda Your heart is not a plaything Your heart is not a toy But if you want it broken Just give it to a boy (1948-1950)
The Clock of Life (#2) © Brenda The clock of life is wound but once And no one has the power To tell just when the hands will stop At late or early hour. To lose one’s wealth is sad indeed To lose one’s health is more To lose one’s soul is such a loss As no one can restore. The present is our own Love and live with good will Place no faith in tomorrow, for The clock may then be still. (Spring 1955)