#mayaangelou
The wind carries embers,
whispers charred secrets,
and the tree bends—not from age,
but from a scream that’s always been there.
Do you hear it now?
A hollow cry in the brittle leaves,
a crack in the marrow of the bark,
the language of wildfire—
cruel, ancient, endless.
Once,
her roots were drunk on fog,
her branches heavy with sunlit mornings.
Now,
the air tastes of smoke,
ash settles in her veins,
her shadow flickers,
a ghost against an orange sky.
They say the fire speaks—
greedy, ravenous.
But the tree,
the Cali tree,
screams instead.
Screams for her sisters who turned to smoke,
screams for the nests that fell as sparks,
screams for the soil, now burned and bare,
too tired to cradle new life.
Once,
flames were a dance:
brief, beautiful,
a way to start anew.
But now they are monsters,
growing hungrier,
louder,
every year.
The scream spirals into the valleys,
up the hills,
over the rooftops.
It cracks open the silence of dry creek beds,
splits the night sky,
and still, we pretend we do not hear.
She leans toward the wind and wails:
“Do you know why?”
The answer is in the sparks of powerlines,
the parched rivers,
the forests gone brittle with thirst.
It is in the blackened skeletons of redwoods,
the sunsets stained with sorrow.
One day,
her scream will fade—
too quiet to hear,
too heavy to carry.
But for now,
she stands in the ash,
her roots smoldering,
her branches trembling.
And I listen.
Jul 2, 2025
Jul 2, 2025 at 2:12 AM UTC
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.
-j.b.
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 7:03 PM UTC
~ ⚪ ⚫ ⚪ ~
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
~ ⚪ ⚫ ⚪ ~
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 3:58 PM UTC
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?
And THEN
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.
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 9:15 AM UTC
***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.***
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 3:46 PM UTC
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
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 8:06 PM UTC
The world lost a beautiful soul today. But the beautiful thing about poets is that they never really die. Their secrets, their hopes, their most intimate thoughts are tucked between the lines, even in their most light hearted pieces. Poetry is a very honest medium. Maybe not as honest as sitting and having conversation over tea, but scraps of living soul are always left in the spaces between letters. David, Ovid, Homer, Shakespeare, all of these have survived the centuries as poets. I have no doubt that centuries from now, if our world is still turning, Maya Angelou's works will be counted among these eternal ranks.
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 5:04 PM UTC
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!
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 10:20 AM UTC