Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my *******,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I first fell
in love
on my head
with a boy who
was not
ready yet
(That's my type.)
and I left,
and I left
words unsaid
and I reddened
the face
of the boy
in my bed
for a boy who
was greedy,
could tell I
was needy,
could help stop
the bleed, but
was not
ready yet.
next was the boy
that I won
(No one won.)
he's the boy
who said "likewise"
and smiled
like the sun.
like a vision,
my dreams,
beautiful
make-believe,
so it was
and would be
about every
six weeks.
then, oh,
was the guy
who would hold me
real late
while we watched
pbs
and we tried
not to date
but he loved me,
we did,
and he made
me feel pretty
on my period
(he would move
and get married.
we’re happy
for him.)
in between
was the guy
who lived
inside my brain;
we drove ourselves
mad
and each other
insane.
I don't know
where his
band's playing
or how to spell
his kid's name
(Yes I do.
And he's cute.
I don't know
what I'm saying.)
next and last
but not least
was a boy
I would meet,
young and blonde
and could sing
and so
in love with me.
he wrote songs,
melodies,
composed small
symphonies—
but what I thought
of him
he did not think
of me.

it's been lovely
but lonely
when those
who would hold me
have told me
they loved me
but not
really known me.

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow—
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream:
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand—
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep
While I weep—while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

It was many and many a year ago,
  In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
  By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
  Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
  In this kingdom by the sea:
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
  I and my ANNABEL LEE;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
  Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
  In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
  My beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
  And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
  In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
  Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
  In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
  Chilling and killing my ANNABEL LEE.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
  Of those who were older than we—
  Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in heaven above,
  Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
  In her sepulchre there by the sea—
  In her tomb by the side of the sea.

as foreign to me as
the ocean is deep
(i stay at the shore)

as strange to me as
black coffee
(too bitter for an
already bitter soul)

as enticing to me as
a sunrise
(new
  bright
    bold
      exposing)

as terrifying as
a fluttering moth
(and just as
irrational?)

a concept so strange
to a twisty sad heart
that you may as well
skip me
and enjoy
my part.