Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Tommy Randell Mar 2019
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
’Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
’Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may **** me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
After endless analysis about what is and what isn't... THIS is Poetry!
little crow Aug 2018
Look at your face and your hair's small curls
you may not be a stick,
but you have the whole world
in your hands, between your shoulders, and even in your thighs.
Who cares what you look like when you open your eyes?

Little girl, why do spend your nights filled with cries?
You are so strong and elegant, no need to demonize
your looks are nothing, it is your inside that is a prize.
you mustn't forget, you have wings-- so fly.

Who cares about the size of your belly or your *******?
Little girl, believe in your mind and it'll take care of the rest.
Look, its much easier said than done- but you must always give it your best run

You might fall in mud and feel very stuck, and cause all your actions and thoughts to go amuck
but you'll find the way, life isn't a maze, you'll make it through even your hardest of days.

You might find yourself even drowning in fear, but remember little girl, i am always here
to clean your tears, boogers, and sweat,
to help you every single time you forget,
that you have wings to fly.

No matter what words are thrown at your face,
those words come from people filled with disgrace.
They know only to speak with sharp knives,
but remember, they too, have sorrow-filled nights--
they must have forgotten their ability to fly.

Little girl, please never forget how beautiful you are,
even when you feel you're only filled with scars.
You never got to where you now are
by cowering and not listening to your beating heart.

To fly you must have wings, and that, you do
little girl you mustn't forget, it's beautiful to be you.

Inspired by both Maya Angelou and Frida Kahlo
Lyn-Purcell May 2018
~ ⚪ ⚫ ⚪ ~

This one's for Maya
Monolith of the black voice
much love rest in peace

All life is sacred
I dare not cage the sweet birds
because of their songs

The cage is a veil
Watch bejewelled hands touch and play
the sleek piano

The bird trills in sync
ivory and ebony
now weep of lost dreams

As we humans laugh
eating sweetmeats from rose-bowls
and drink mead from glass

~  ⚫ ⚪ ⚫ ~

Birds look to the sky
How she yearns to ride the wind
soar and touch the sky

But it is a dream
She is caged by luxury
by rich human glee

None dare lift her veil
She eats and sings, it fools them
But her soul it aches

She knows they see her
Broken in all her beauty
Her mistake not theirs

All life is sacred
I dare not cage the sweet birds
because of their songs

~ ⚪ ⚫ ⚪ ~
This series of haikus is dedicated to one of my literary heroes, the late Maya Angelou.

I've often dreamed of being a free bird, wanting to travel to world, but I suppose the most beautiful things live difficult lives. And in day to day life, the word 'free', I find to be illusory...

Be back soon!
Lyn x
Lady Grey Nov 2017
Doing homework left and right,
Ha! No, i’m not “fine”
Working my *** off all the time--
I’ve got no time!

No time for these video games
All the “kids these days are playin’”
I ain’t got the time of day
And i’m just here saying--

Why do we have to do this?
Do you understand the strain
The stress
You do daily to our brains?

You accuse us of being lazy
Selfish, stupid
You’re driving me crazy!

Don’t we deserve at least
A little (grudging) respect
Being ABLE to cope AT ALL (not all of us can...)
What more do you expect?

Do you expect us to just be “fine”
Every time you ask?
Because we’re not
Not with all these endless tasks.

It ******* ***** TO BE A TEENAGER
In this day and age
And I, at least, would appreciate it
If all these people talking trash about kids my age

Would just stop
Because we’re not “in your day” anymore
And I’m not “fine”
And school, (to be perfectly honest) is just a bore.
My class had to write a poem based on Maya Angelou's "Ain’t That Bad" at school, basically our perception of our culture, and however we interpreted it.
Jaanam Jaswani Jan 2016
the ache for home lives in all of us,
the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.

here lies an unexplored current-
in its motion is a stillness;
in its havoc is a calmness.
it is nothing, it will always be bursting with its nothingness.

a child comes; stomps on the shallow waters,
feeling the striking cold water against his skin;
the fiery sun searing his back.
what do i feel, what do i feel?

emptiness goes unrecognised,
and the balance is created from within.
splish, splash
tune me out as i touch you, and take a part of you with me

the child rolls in the sand-
pressing the damp handfuls onto his body.
he tricks himself into believing that he belongs somewhere-
that he belongs here-
clearing up his mind-
as he tries to become one with the ocean-
as each handful of sand
teaches him that his home is inside him.

the ache for home lives in all of us,
the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.
3:46 AM
Kelly Miller Jul 2014
In a moment of time
Your words birthed
A vision inside of me
To be human
Yes it's quite strange..
But in our uniqueness
We realise
That we are all the same

The phrase I love you
Has a transitory tone
It can either end or begin
A chapter

The storms of life, may grey our skies
But  you've taught us
How to see
The rainbows in our clouds

Poets are encouraged to remember..
Words Are Things

So all though you have stopped on
The train ride called life
You leave us lingering passengers
With the courage to complete the journey
With empowerment for the destination

Your smile will last
As the memoir of your legacy
And we will press on
For today and tomorrow
With the mask removed
We miss you Maya!
Erick Pratt May 2014
Your words transcend your life extinguished,
Words of hope against fear, of struggle and life
During a time of hatred, violence and strife.
Your time among us was most distinguished
By the gifts of eloquence you gave to all,
By simply answering the poet’s call.
Rest in eternal peace, Maya Angelou. You will be missed, but you live on forever through your words.
Stephanie Lynn May 2014
My heart is heavy today at the loss of such an incredible inspiration to the arts community. Her poetry is the reason I was inspired to write, to be who I am destined to be, and to always live and fight for what I believe in. Maya Angelou wasn't just a poet, she was a movement, providing never ending insight and knowledge to the community and marching along with us during the civil rights. Maya Angelou, what a dent your absence will leave behind, but what a beautiful picture painted words you have left us. I had always dreamed of meeting you one day, but now I know that day will never come (at least in the physical world anyway). Thank you Maya Angelou for your knowledge, your strength, and your never ending guidance. You showed us the world through a different pair of eyes and it is that reason I now know why the caged bird sings!

Rest Peacefully Dr. Maya Angelou!

— The End —