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"angelou" poems
African woman Mother of civilization. Oh beautiful woman, Thou are beyond description. African woman Queen of the people of Mamba. Jambo to all those in heaven Bless you too my dear mama. African woman Royal Nubian Queen. The backbone of her man You'll do anything to help him win. Single Black woman Made of broken pieces You're the breadwinner,Superwoman. You're the symbol of strength in all places. African woman Daughter of Eve's. Thou are God's true specimen, And the apple of his eyes. Black woman Daughter of Africa. Blueprint of a **** woman, Dark hue of coffee arabica. African woman Mother of humanity Chieftess of ancient Nyngoman, Mama Africa's bounty. African woman My Mandingo bride. First woman of Africa's Eden Center of God's black tribe. Nigerian woman My Yoruba Queen. Envied by the women of Oman, Cafe ou lair, cream of Africa's cream! Warrior woman, Queen of Wakanda. Come and flip your wand, Find the soul of Sarafina. Curvy woman In your womb lies Africa's future. My Lormah woman Oyobuays marvels at your structure. Beautiful woman, Perpetual envy of the silicon woman. Pride of the Black man, The essence of a real woman. Indigo Woman Lillies of the African plains. Thou are Eve of the African Eden, Best of the portraits that nature paints. Voluptous woman, Full, thick natural lips. Real assert of the Black woman, Nature gets aroused by your hips. Ellen Sirleaf, today's woman, Africa's first female president. A Liberian woman, Loved and revered wherever she went. Smile ,Gambian woman, You're daughter of Sarakunda. Roots of the Black American woman, Captives of the kanda Bolinga. South African woman Mariam Makeba Sang for freedom and fought like a man You were truly Soweto's finest Deva. Dark ebony woman, You are red, yellow and green. Hanmatan wind stops at your command, Born to slay and be seen. African woman Thou are the only reason God put Adam in a coma. Your perpetual beauty transcends time and Season. African woman, Under your cleavage, the Nile flows And between your fingers, golden threads are woven, You are the reason Beyonce glows. Harriet Tubman, brave woman Smuggled slaves underground. She was a freed Black slave woman, Who avowed to leave no soul behind. Creative woman Maya Angelou, gifted poetess. Famous writer and a Black woman Will be remembered for her poetic prowess. Native African woman, Africa's limestone and cement. A mother, a wife, virtuous woman, Lioness and the spine of the continent. Liberian woman Roots of my poetry, you gave me life You are every woman. Your edges are sharper than the Sumarais knife. #IvanBrookspoetry© 13/8/2018
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Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 4:56 AM UTC
African Woman
African woman Mother of civilization. Oh beautiful woman, Thou are beyond description. African woman Queen of the people of Mamba. Jambo to all those in heaven Bless you too my dear mama. African woman Royal Nubian Queen. The backbone of her man You'll do anything to help him win. Single Black woman Made of broken pieces You're the breadwinner,Superwoman. You're the symbol of strength in all places. African woman Daughter of Eve's. Thou are God's true specimen, And the apple of his eyes. Black woman Daughter of Africa. Blueprint of a **** woman, Dark hue of coffee arabica. African woman Mother of humanity Chieftess of ancient Nyngoman, Mama Africa's bounty. African woman My Mandingo bride. First woman of Africa's Eden Center of God's black tribe. Nigerian woman My Yoruba Queen. Envied by the women of Oman, Cafe ou lair, cream of Africa's cream! Warrior woman, Queen of Wakanda. Come and flip your wand, Find the soul of Sarafina. Curvy woman In your womb lies Africa's future. My Lormah woman Oyobuays marvels at your structure. Beautiful woman, Perpetual envy of the silicon woman. Pride of the Black man, The essence of a real woman. Indigo Woman Lillies of the African plains. Thou are Eve of the African Eden, Best of the portraits that nature paints. Voluptous woman, Full, thick natural lips. Real assert of the Black woman, Nature gets aroused by your hips. Ellen Sirleaf, today's woman, Africa's first female president. A Liberian woman, Loved and revered wherever she went. Smile ,Gambian woman, You're daughter of Sarakunda. Roots of the Black American woman, Captives of the kanda Bolinga. South African woman Mariam Makeba Sang for freedom and fought like a man You were truly Soweto's finest Deva. Dark ebony woman, You are red, yellow and green. Hanmatan wind stops at your command, Born to slay and be seen. African woman Thou are the only reason God put Adam in a coma. Your perpetual beauty transcends time and Season. African woman, Under your cleavage, the Nile flows And between your fingers, golden threads are woven, You are the reason Beyonce glows. Harriet Tubman, brave woman Smuggled slaves underground. She was a freed Black slave woman, Who avowed to leave no soul behind. Creative woman Maya Angelou, gifted poetess. Famous writer and a Black woman Will be remembered for her poetic prowess. Native African woman, Africa's limestone and cement. A mother, a wife, virtuous woman, Lioness and the spine of the continent. Liberian woman Roots of my poetry, you gave me life You are every woman. Your edges are sharper than the Sumarais knife. #IvanBrookspoetry© 13/8/2018
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Guns and more guns need to be put down Bullets should be replaced with education being the sound It’s time to become a success Yet it’s up to our young people to put that to the test Their testimony surrounding confess Everyone has capabilities to learn However, one must adapt to theories forming concepts Imagine having a college degree for all to see Having confident being your own decree The movement of action in making education what it should be A mind is a terrible thing to waste But the key is to make education your base Former President Barack Obama had the right idea, “You Can” But the new continued motto, “You shall Until” A young man at a United ***** College Fund Raiser said this vital point, “Blacker the college Sweeter the education” Education being the unity, but bring back to the community Determination in step out and explore Seeing one’s horizon but beyond the shore A college education is an opportunity being a chance Knowing the theories is how one will advance Higher Education means being one step ahead But the opposition wants minds to be misled Prove to yourself what education can do for you It’s a journey being a must to go through Achievers such as Dr. Martin Luther King, Medgar Evers, Dr. Maya Angelou and scores of others They instilled the passion in how to achieve, and determined education was what they were going to receive They were ready no matter what Fasten your educational seat belt as you will be taking off into Higher Learning Institutions in education beyond measure Education is, but hold tight to the learning saddle It might seem like a battle But the end rewards is succeed Slavery that was while be came destined for education now One word leads to a complete sentence One’s thoughts illustrates the understanding Adaptability of the concepts gained Long lasting knowledge is what will remain UNCF philosophy, “A mind is a terrible thing to waste” But the mind must be ready to spiral and absorb But education and knowledge work all accord.
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Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 2:30 PM UTC
EDUCATION PERIOD
Guns and more guns need to be put down Bullets should be replaced with education being the sound It’s time to become a success Yet it’s up to our young people to put that to the test Their testimony surrounding confess Everyone has capabilities to learn However, one must adapt to theories forming concepts Imagine having a college degree for all to see Having confident being your own decree The movement of action in making education what it should be A mind is a terrible thing to waste But the key is to make education your base Former President Barack Obama had the right idea, “You Can” But the new continued motto, “You shall Until” A young man at a United ***** College Fund Raiser said this vital point, “Blacker the college Sweeter the education” Education being the unity, but bring back to the community Determination in step out and explore Seeing one’s horizon but beyond the shore A college education is an opportunity being a chance Knowing the theories is how one will advance Higher Education means being one step ahead But the opposition wants minds to be misled Prove to yourself what education can do for you It’s a journey being a must to go through Achievers such as Dr. Martin Luther King, Medgar Evers, Dr. Maya Angelou and scores of others They instilled the passion in how to achieve, and determined education was what they were going to receive They were ready no matter what Fasten your educational seat belt as you will be taking off into Higher Learning Institutions in education beyond measure Education is, but hold tight to the learning saddle It might seem like a battle But the end rewards is succeed Slavery that was while be came destined for education now One word leads to a complete sentence One’s thoughts illustrates the understanding Adaptability of the concepts gained Long lasting knowledge is what will remain UNCF philosophy, “A mind is a terrible thing to waste” But the mind must be ready to spiral and absorb But education and knowledge work all accord.
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~ June 2023 HP Poet: Patty Mager Country: USA Question 1: Welcome to the HP Spotlight, Patty. Please tell us about your background? Patty M: "I was born an only child in a 3 generation household. I loved books, and playing imaginary games, and chasing my mom with really long nightcrawlers, my Grandpa raised in a washtub. I was a banker, and a financial banker for many years. I quit to do hospice for my Dad when he was to go into hospice. My husband had heart problems and my little Mom eventually got Cancer. So I nursed and loved them all. My Dad for a year, the others over an 8-year period. I saw the transition of each and the way each handled their ending, and I was there for them all. I consider that a special blessing." Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry? Patty M: "I always wrote, but I found a poetry site 20 years ago, and began to write seriously. I've been published in many anthologies both in the US and abroad. I was nominated for the coveted Pushcart Prize twice and I once had a three-page spread in our local newspaper. I came to HP in 2014 and I love this special place with amazingly wonderful poets who have become really great friends." Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you). Patty M: "Sometimes poems seem to write themselves, almost like automatic writing." Question 4: What does poetry mean to you? Patty M: "Poetry is spiritual, and a lifesaving rope that carries me through both good and the horrible times of my life." Question 5: Who are your favorite poets? Patty M: "My favorite Poets are: Sylvia Plath, Neruda, Billy Collins, Maya Angelou, Poe, Ginsberg, Anne Sexton, and Longfellow." Question 6: What other interests do you have? Patty M: "I love to cook, do crossword puzzles, read, and play card games like canasta, and spider solitaire. Being with family is my heaven." Carlo C. Gomez: “Thank you so much for allowing me to interview you, dear Patty! I learned a great deal about you!” Patty M: "Thank again Carlo. Thanks so much for all your help and kindness." Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed getting to know Patty a little bit better. I indeed did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez (aka Mr. Timetable) We will post Spotlight #5 in July! ~
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Jun 1, 2023
Jun 1, 2023 at 5:56 PM UTC
HP Writers Spotlight: Patty M
~ June 2023 HP Poet: Patty Mager Country: USA Question 1: Welcome to the HP Spotlight, Patty. Please tell us about your background? Patty M: "I was born an only child in a 3 generation household. I loved books, and playing imaginary games, and chasing my mom with really long nightcrawlers, my Grandpa raised in a washtub. I was a banker, and a financial banker for many years. I quit to do hospice for my Dad when he was to go into hospice. My husband had heart problems and my little Mom eventually got Cancer. So I nursed and loved them all. My Dad for a year, the others over an 8-year period. I saw the transition of each and the way each handled their ending, and I was there for them all. I consider that a special blessing." Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry? Patty M: "I always wrote, but I found a poetry site 20 years ago, and began to write seriously. I've been published in many anthologies both in the US and abroad. I was nominated for the coveted Pushcart Prize twice and I once had a three-page spread in our local newspaper. I came to HP in 2014 and I love this special place with amazingly wonderful poets who have become really great friends." Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you). Patty M: "Sometimes poems seem to write themselves, almost like automatic writing." Question 4: What does poetry mean to you? Patty M: "Poetry is spiritual, and a lifesaving rope that carries me through both good and the horrible times of my life." Question 5: Who are your favorite poets? Patty M: "My favorite Poets are: Sylvia Plath, Neruda, Billy Collins, Maya Angelou, Poe, Ginsberg, Anne Sexton, and Longfellow." Question 6: What other interests do you have? Patty M: "I love to cook, do crossword puzzles, read, and play card games like canasta, and spider solitaire. Being with family is my heaven." Carlo C. Gomez: “Thank you so much for allowing me to interview you, dear Patty! I learned a great deal about you!” Patty M: "Thank again Carlo. Thanks so much for all your help and kindness." Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed getting to know Patty a little bit better. I indeed did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez (aka Mr. Timetable) We will post Spotlight #5 in July! ~
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_"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you."_ -Maya Angelou My soul is a sweetie: She’s a cute but **** with an infectious smile, an enchanting personality. She wears dark colors, slightly goth makeup, and thick-rimmed glasses. She likes candles, tea, sweaters, and cannabis, and goes on long walks in the woods by starlight. She’s cool and confident, outgoing and fun, and as beautiful as a moonrise reflected off of a frozen lake. She’s me. But I am not her. She’s the me inside of the me inside of me. She cries when my mind grapples with the bounds of the mental illness that gives her life. She screams in pain when my mind tries to rationalize her and explain her away. And she glows with joy whenever I try to grow closer to her. She’s the part of me I never asked for, whose existence hurts like a deep burn, but nonetheless makes me truly be myself.
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Dec 16, 2018
Dec 16, 2018 at 11:57 AM UTC
She: A Poem about Dysphoria
On a bright day, next week Just before the bomb falls Just before the world ends Just before I die All my tears will powder Black in dust like ashes Black like Buddha's belly Black and hot and dry Then will mercy tumble Falling down in god heads Falling on the children Falling from the sky
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Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 9:40 AM UTC
On a bright day, next week (Maya Angelou)
I turned on the news tonight, and saw a familiar face Maya Angelou speaks of Nelson Mandela “His day is done, our skies are leadened.” It hit me then, Forgiveness is more than  “Oh…it’s okay…” If a man, a single freed prisoner, can change a whole country, can forgive oppression, and depression, and apartheid brutality, Forgiveness is not simple. Sorry is not simple. It’s a chance, to open the door to redemption, Entire countries have forgiven the inhumanity of the past, And yet all of us, each day, Become angry for such small matters. If nations can rebuild, If Polish person can love a German After the Holocaust, We CAN forgive. Forgiveness is the key to our self-imposed prisons.
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May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 12:53 PM UTC
Sorry Is Not Simple
Still I Rise by Maya Angelou You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies,
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Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 10:32 PM UTC
Still I Rise by Maya Angelou
You may bring me down Try to hurt and torture my soul You may bring me to the ground But like the wind I will carry through. Does my happiness upset you? Why are you so selfish? Cause I am strong and independent I have the capability to do anything I desire. Just like gravity in space With everything trying to pull me down, Just like the momentum to keep going I will carry through. Do you want to see me hurt? Give up on everything I have worked for? My body falling to the ground, Weakened by the terror of the future. Does my happiness upset you? Don’t try to bring me down. Cause I am strong like I’ve got superpowers, Flying through the struggles of life. You may hurt me with your words, You may try to crush me, You may try to torture me, But still, like the wind I will carry through. Does my confidence upset you? Does it come as a surprise? That I have the capability to do anything I put my heart to, At the moment that is right? Out of the struggles of life, I carry through. Up from a past buried in cries, I carry through. I’m a blue ocean, flowing and changing. Capable to bear the effects of the tide. Leaving behind all of the bad memories, I carry through. Into a world that I can call mine, I carry through. Putting the past behind me I am the one who represents the future. I carry through. I carry through. I carry through.
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Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 4:37 PM UTC
My Emulation of the Poem “Still I Rise” by Maya Angelou
(Published in Miami Herald on May 26, 2014 Brigitte Jacobs Arnold Obituary Guest Book View Sign ARNOLD, BRIGITTE JACOBS, 78, MIAMI. Services will be held at 7:00 pm and a viewing from 12:00 pm to 8:00pm at Maspons Funeral Home located at 3500 SW 8th Street, Miami Florida 33135 Wednesday May 28th.) Don’t ask me why but I went online this afternoon. Read the Miami-Herald obituaries. And not just the Biggies: Maya Angelou at 86 and A one hundred year old Herb Jeffries. Of course we knew Maya, Her caged bird singing Softly in our souls, But may not be aware of Herb Jeffries. A former singer in the Ellington band, Herb was known as the Bronze Buckaroo, In a series of all-black 1930s Westerns-- His nickname evoking His racial identity, Quite muddled, flexible. Although both sad passages to be sure, It was neither Maya nor Herb Triggering my tender tears. But the obituary of: ARNOLD, BRIGITTE JACOBS, 78, MIAMI, Known as Oma, Mutti and Mama. Well, not exactly the Brigitte obit, My tears for her long-lived mother, Brigitte’s mother, durable & abiding, Still breathing at 97: Hildegard Wolle. Reading Brigitte’s bio— German born, Berlin student, Singer-fashionista & Proud, naturalized American citizen— I can’t stop thinking about Hildegard. As if the woman didn’t already Have more than her share of trouble On this planet nearly a century, Having already lost her Grandson Roland, and now, Her daughter. Something wacky is going on here. Some long-distance life lesson Being applied here. Poor Hildegard: ungifted with Alzheimer’s, Suffers crystal distant memories, Some really bad karma Stored up in past lives.
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May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 3:54 PM UTC
“Miami Death Watch”
(Published in Miami Herald on May 26, 2014 Brigitte Jacobs Arnold Obituary Guest Book View Sign ARNOLD, BRIGITTE JACOBS, 78, MIAMI. Services will be held at 7:00 pm and a viewing from 12:00 pm to 8:00pm at Maspons Funeral Home located at 3500 SW 8th Street, Miami Florida 33135 Wednesday May 28th.) Don’t ask me why but I went online this afternoon. Read the Miami-Herald obituaries. And not just the Biggies: Maya Angelou at 86 and A one hundred year old Herb Jeffries. Of course we knew Maya, Her caged bird singing Softly in our souls, But may not be aware of Herb Jeffries. A former singer in the Ellington band, Herb was known as the Bronze Buckaroo, In a series of all-black 1930s Westerns-- His nickname evoking His racial identity, Quite muddled, flexible. Although both sad passages to be sure, It was neither Maya nor Herb Triggering my tender tears. But the obituary of: ARNOLD, BRIGITTE JACOBS, 78, MIAMI, Known as Oma, Mutti and Mama. Well, not exactly the Brigitte obit, My tears for her long-lived mother, Brigitte’s mother, durable & abiding, Still breathing at 97: Hildegard Wolle. Reading Brigitte’s bio— German born, Berlin student, Singer-fashionista & Proud, naturalized American citizen— I can’t stop thinking about Hildegard. As if the woman didn’t already Have more than her share of trouble On this planet nearly a century, Having already lost her Grandson Roland, and now, Her daughter. Something wacky is going on here. Some long-distance life lesson Being applied here. Poor Hildegard: ungifted with Alzheimer’s, Suffers crystal distant memories, Some really bad karma Stored up in past lives.
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I don’t want to read anything about or or from Maya Angelou I don’t want. I don't want to be sad I know she must have been an amazing person No, she had to be an amazing person but I only heard her name once or twice once or twice in my life time, in her life time So I don’t want to be sad that she is gone That I never knew her I don’t want to be sad I don't want to be sad about not reading her material when she was alive. Not knowing I just don’t want to feel that way Not knowing her Rest in peace, beautiful human being.
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May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 2:40 PM UTC
Maya Angelou
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. From And Still I Rise by Maya Angelou. Copyright © 1978 by Maya Angelou.
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Nov 16, 2016
Nov 16, 2016 at 2:39 AM UTC
Still I Rise (Maya Angelou, 1928 - 2014)
(I’m) talking about Freedom! Peace and liberty A land of Freedom! Love and equality Freedom! Is what we need to see! Maya Angelou said it So, it has to be The caged bird sings But it is not free. Pretending for money Won’t make it be. There is no substitute For being free. Freedom for you Freedom for me Freedom! For every ethnicity! Freedom! For both gay and straight Freedom! For all, we can’t wait. Always there are thieves Who would steal your rights. They exist on the left And they exist on the right. They get paid to rob you And never let you be If you aren’t vigilant You’re never really free. Freedom! Before someone kills it. Freedom! Because the country wills it! Freedom! Saw The Liberty Bell crack. Freedom! It’s yours if you take it back. Democracy is a concept And we have to protect it. Money-making crooks Will try to make you reject it. They tell you everything Will end up just fine Because freedom cuts in To their bottom profit line. (I’m) talking about Freedom! Peace and liberty A land of Freedom! Love and equality Freedom! Is what we need to see!
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Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 11:08 PM UTC
FREEDOM!
Edger Allan Poe inspired me Shakespeare educated me Maya Angelou raised me These writers created a beast in me A beast of emotions, words that lack definitions Only existsting in my expressions Ideal to the common citizen I write with a pen full of love, curiosity and pain Emotions that have gone blind, to common sense, and swallowed a pill full of ego I realize I am worthless without this pen and this pain I write of love as if I feel it I write of Justice as if I need it I write of human behavior as if I need to fix it If I am to die let my words live on within your emotions when you read them Forever and ever I hope you feel them
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Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 7:15 PM UTC
Writers Inspired Me
I imagine the angelic way you move like the earth is your runway Seeing your pretty eyes hidden behind eyelashes that resemble silk I ponder your frame Your silhouette is a stencil for a goddess No one’s perfect But your my perfection I think about how I would grace your lips with discretion Gently placing mine on yours and floating to a ****** purgatory Where we just leave the wrongs and the rights of the world Then I imagine the lips between your thighs puckered up with the elegance of a freshly blossomed May flower I think about you so much my thoughts don’t know any other thoughts Ideas of how I can be yours Plans on how I can make you my forever Well forever doesn’t last So, lets be together until we both cease to be I just would love to hear the words of you You speak and I hear Maya Angelou You speak and I hear Erykah Badu You speak and I hear Lauryn Hill You speak and I hear my wife You are what I need to make us “We” needs to be As I think of you I can envision you looking at me and telling me yes
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Feb 16, 2011
Feb 16, 2011 at 3:06 PM UTC
I sit outside your door
I wrote a tribute to Maya Angelou in 2010 that I would like to share today in memory of a great poet. Please excuse the dated references. I Know Why the Twitter Bird Tweets The free bird leaps on Google’s back and scrolls down page till the browser ends and dips his wings in Facebook rays and dares to claim the internet. But a bird that stalks down his narrow page can seldom see through his lists of rage his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his claws to tweet. The Twitter bird tweets with fearful trill of the things unknown but longed for still and his tweet are read on the distant hill for the Twitter bird tweets of freedom The free bird may watch tivo'd Glee And order up some good Chinese and laugh as Sue Sylvester drones On and on of kids off tone. But Twitter bird stands on the grave of tweets Getting “trends” for Trick or Treat his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his claws to tweet. The Twitter bird tweets with a fearful trill of things unknown but longed for still and his tweet is heard on the distant hill for the Twitter bird tweets of freedom.
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May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 4:07 PM UTC
In Memory of Maya Angelou
Dance in the flowers of springtime like a flower without petals. I have never heard of such. Never heard of a flower without petals, a lion without a roar, a tree without bark. These things are simply unheard of like sacred souls. They never see these things or the stitches on your heart holding you together, never heard of a heart that doesn't love. Never heard of a tiger without stripes and the pride of them , for what would we know if not these things? What about Maya Angelou who told us of the caged bird that sings or Langston Hughes who taught us to take our dreams, spread our wings and fly with them? A flame without heat is not so, it is ignited like the rage flowing through our veins when yet another African American boy is faced down, on the ground, unarmed, with blood of his own flowing out of him. Never heard of is it? Just like the streets that would scream if they could speak, so would Andy Lopez if wasn't already six feet under just for being 13. These are the things that are not unheard of, we just never hear them. I think maybe it is time these things be recognized and not cast aside, so that maybe their is hope for a bright future. That we might never have to see a world where flowers have no petals and lions no roar. But finally at peace with no war. Just love.
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Aug 4, 2017
Aug 4, 2017 at 11:12 PM UTC
Sight
~ October 2023 HP Poet: Maddy Age: 65 Country: USA Question 1: We welcome you to the HP Spotlight, Maddy. Please tell us about your background? Maddy: "Retired Teacher now Media and Digital Literacy Educational Consultant and writer." Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry? Maddy: "Been writing since I was eight. Three years now as an HP member." Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you). Maddy:  "Poetry wakes me in the middle of the night on airplanes and when I walk. It is still one of my best friends other than my husband, sister, and Best BFF Irene." Question 4: What does poetry mean to you? Maddy: "It is my friend and companion and is a precious asset. Without it my life would be empty." Question 5: Who are your favorite poets? Maddy: "Thoreau, EE Cummings, Sappho, MAYA Angelou, Carole King, Emily Torres, Mary Oliver, Millay, and many here on HEPO." Question 6: What other interests do you have? Maddy: "I love Travel, Photographer, Nature, Cooking, Theatre, Concerts, and Reading." Carlo C. Gomez: “Thank you so much for giving us an opportunity to get to know you, dear Maddy! You are a wonderful addition to the series!” Maddy: "Thanks and looking forward to it and your review of my book on Amazon." Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed getting to know Maddy a little bit better. I indeed did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez (aka Mr. Timetable) We will post Spotlight #9 in November! ~
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Oct 1, 2023
Oct 1, 2023 at 3:33 PM UTC
HP Writers Spotlight: Maddy
~ October 2023 HP Poet: Maddy Age: 65 Country: USA Question 1: We welcome you to the HP Spotlight, Maddy. Please tell us about your background? Maddy: "Retired Teacher now Media and Digital Literacy Educational Consultant and writer." Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry? Maddy: "Been writing since I was eight. Three years now as an HP member." Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you). Maddy:  "Poetry wakes me in the middle of the night on airplanes and when I walk. It is still one of my best friends other than my husband, sister, and Best BFF Irene." Question 4: What does poetry mean to you? Maddy: "It is my friend and companion and is a precious asset. Without it my life would be empty." Question 5: Who are your favorite poets? Maddy: "Thoreau, EE Cummings, Sappho, MAYA Angelou, Carole King, Emily Torres, Mary Oliver, Millay, and many here on HEPO." Question 6: What other interests do you have? Maddy: "I love Travel, Photographer, Nature, Cooking, Theatre, Concerts, and Reading." Carlo C. Gomez: “Thank you so much for giving us an opportunity to get to know you, dear Maddy! You are a wonderful addition to the series!” Maddy: "Thanks and looking forward to it and your review of my book on Amazon." Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed getting to know Maddy a little bit better. I indeed did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez (aka Mr. Timetable) We will post Spotlight #9 in November! ~
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Let me be, As God intended me to be: Neither a wicked elf, Nor a fairy godmother, Never a demon, Nor an angel, But a true woman, Oh! No, not the ‘Phenomenal Woman’ Of Maya Angelou, Drawing a hive of honey bees round ‘With the span of my hips Or the stride of my steps’ But, One with a loving heart, Calm and caring Though at times touchy and itchy A gracious host and a helpful neighbor Able to stand in my own light And lessen the darkness of the night An abiding spouse In whom my man can see An ocean of love in my dewy eyes And feel the steady warmth of my grip When the seas of life grow stormy, For my children, an adorable mother In whom they can confide, Their doubt, despair or delight A counselor, a friend and guide With the balm to heal their wounds Touch and move their spirits And show them the miracle of love Piecing together these different roles Let me, into a close knit texture weave The fabric of my life! Like the interlacing threads Of a great tapestry! In a way, is not living the art of quilting Bringing out unique patterns Of exquisite beauty and delight From the scraps thrown in our way!
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Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 7:13 AM UTC
What I Wish to Be
Maya Angelou once said, "I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel" although the thing is, I wont forget any of it. the open ears, the listening, the understanding that was so easily given I will always remember the way he congratulated me the day I pulled poetry from my teeth I wont forget how he made us feel- we. we wont forget how he made us feel the many conversations that lived in his office are now stuck in between the cracks of the walls I imagine the dark of the theatre in mourning, the curtains heavier, more blue than they are usually the black of the paint floor chipping backwards to share the memories saying, "Look, It is all here underneath your feet." if you have ever wondered what magic feels like I can tell you with certainty that it is a bear grasp from a tower of a man and a laugh that can be defined more correctly as a chuckle or most importantly, a smile that knew comfort when it was most needed what is hardest about it all is this reality, the growing up that comes with losing I am trying to comprehend the fact that there are going to be students, new ones, who will never know the magic that is a Conway hug I know we will all be reminiscing, telling stories and his name will be a past tense we didn't want to have to use this is a poem I never wanted to have to write. one about a man who carried so many hearts inside his own the same one who reminded me of my worth on more than one occasion this is about the man who was like a father when my own was sick this is about the man who directed my first kiss on the same stage where I learned how to be vulnerable and how to trust it is so easy to say, this isn't fair. but then I picture him, arms crossed, replying "Life isn't fair" and he would be correct in saying it isn't, no, life isn't fair. but what a privilege it is to have had him in mine what a privilege it is to have known him at all Maya was wrong, we wont forget what he said, sitting in the center of the studio referencing someone's house "Treat it like your grandmother's" I wont forget what he did, what he taught me, us. we wont forget any of it, I promise.
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Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 3:10 AM UTC
For Conway
Maya Angelou once said, "I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel" although the thing is, I wont forget any of it. the open ears, the listening, the understanding that was so easily given I will always remember the way he congratulated me the day I pulled poetry from my teeth I wont forget how he made us feel- we. we wont forget how he made us feel the many conversations that lived in his office are now stuck in between the cracks of the walls I imagine the dark of the theatre in mourning, the curtains heavier, more blue than they are usually the black of the paint floor chipping backwards to share the memories saying, "Look, It is all here underneath your feet." if you have ever wondered what magic feels like I can tell you with certainty that it is a bear grasp from a tower of a man and a laugh that can be defined more correctly as a chuckle or most importantly, a smile that knew comfort when it was most needed what is hardest about it all is this reality, the growing up that comes with losing I am trying to comprehend the fact that there are going to be students, new ones, who will never know the magic that is a Conway hug I know we will all be reminiscing, telling stories and his name will be a past tense we didn't want to have to use this is a poem I never wanted to have to write. one about a man who carried so many hearts inside his own the same one who reminded me of my worth on more than one occasion this is about the man who was like a father when my own was sick this is about the man who directed my first kiss on the same stage where I learned how to be vulnerable and how to trust it is so easy to say, this isn't fair. but then I picture him, arms crossed, replying "Life isn't fair" and he would be correct in saying it isn't, no, life isn't fair. but what a privilege it is to have had him in mine what a privilege it is to have known him at all Maya was wrong, we wont forget what he said, sitting in the center of the studio referencing someone's house "Treat it like your grandmother's" I wont forget what he did, what he taught me, us. we wont forget any of it, I promise.
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#31 | 31 Poems for August (Written with Naledi Tshikota) Write me a sonnet, point dozens of Cupid’s arrows to my heart if you dare to awaken it. Tune into your inner Shakespeare, fantasize us as Bonnie and Clyde if you care to spend time in it. Recreate the Titanic, recreate it with the ending of The Notebook if you can bear to believe in it. And if that doesn’t work, cast me to sleep like the Romeo you are and let me awake next to your lifeless flesh and dagger as I pierce my soul with it. Write me a sonnet, let every single one of those fourteen lines bleed with emotion. Leave The Notebook next to my notebook and become the protagonist of my dreams. Think like the wind and attain the kind of power that’ll allow you to blow me away on any given day. Your presence keeps transforming our thoughts into beautiful poetic paintings, Basquiat and Picasso would’ve been proud. Write me a sonnet, silence every impurity that does awaken my love. Summon the essence of my soul for the taking of your unforsaken hands and make Mona Lisa cry sacred tears of joy. Create simplistic glimpses that only our superior beings can understand, only then can I unleash my undying emotion towards your uncontested universe. Write me a sonnet, the kind that will make me realise that your heart isn’t filled with any doubt. The day I realised that words could touch you, I wanted to become a poem. The kind of poem that Maya Angelou’s ink always dreamt about. The taste of your smile still lingers on the edges of my lips. I see galaxies in your eyes, it must be in the way I love you like I do. I could’ve settled for less but I don’t want anyone else but you. Write me a sonnet that speaks to the heart of my mind. Because I always hear your heartbeat when I think about you. Write me a sonnet that intertwines our inner intuitions. A sonnet that makes you believe in shooting stars if you’re into wishing. And finally that captures the very essence of the unknown soul that’s unspoken of. Because it’s within your golden silence that I hear the loudest cry.
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Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 12:36 PM UTC
Heart of a Sonnet
#31 | 31 Poems for August (Written with Naledi Tshikota) Write me a sonnet, point dozens of Cupid’s arrows to my heart if you dare to awaken it. Tune into your inner Shakespeare, fantasize us as Bonnie and Clyde if you care to spend time in it. Recreate the Titanic, recreate it with the ending of The Notebook if you can bear to believe in it. And if that doesn’t work, cast me to sleep like the Romeo you are and let me awake next to your lifeless flesh and dagger as I pierce my soul with it. Write me a sonnet, let every single one of those fourteen lines bleed with emotion. Leave The Notebook next to my notebook and become the protagonist of my dreams. Think like the wind and attain the kind of power that’ll allow you to blow me away on any given day. Your presence keeps transforming our thoughts into beautiful poetic paintings, Basquiat and Picasso would’ve been proud. Write me a sonnet, silence every impurity that does awaken my love. Summon the essence of my soul for the taking of your unforsaken hands and make Mona Lisa cry sacred tears of joy. Create simplistic glimpses that only our superior beings can understand, only then can I unleash my undying emotion towards your uncontested universe. Write me a sonnet, the kind that will make me realise that your heart isn’t filled with any doubt. The day I realised that words could touch you, I wanted to become a poem. The kind of poem that Maya Angelou’s ink always dreamt about. The taste of your smile still lingers on the edges of my lips. I see galaxies in your eyes, it must be in the way I love you like I do. I could’ve settled for less but I don’t want anyone else but you. Write me a sonnet that speaks to the heart of my mind. Because I always hear your heartbeat when I think about you. Write me a sonnet that intertwines our inner intuitions. A sonnet that makes you believe in shooting stars if you’re into wishing. And finally that captures the very essence of the unknown soul that’s unspoken of. Because it’s within your golden silence that I hear the loudest cry.
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That could describe you That could describe me Those of us of obscurity Who do not have a name to back us up Not an Ernest Hemmingway Not a James Joyce Not a Maya Angelou Just a continual scribbler of some thoughts Only are we considered underrated Because we're not well-known But that doesn't mean We can't give the best of them a run for their money
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Nov 17, 2012
Nov 17, 2012 at 3:14 PM UTC
Underrated Writer
**The Australian Thirteens (Black)** Your mummy took a beating Your daddy's drinking beer Your brother's lost his eyesight Your sister's disappeared The thirteens. Right on Your cousin’s sniffing petrol Your Uncle's in the cells Your buddy's begging money To spend in the hotel The thirteens. Right on And you, you make me shameful To see the state you're in I tell you live like we do But all you do is grin at The thirteens. Right on. **The Australian Thirteens (White)** Your mother’s hooked on botox Your daddy’s with the guys Your sister's anorexic She fades before your eyes The Thirteens. Right on Your daughter is a ****** Your son beats queers for fun Your priests ****** your children And you just move them on The Thirteens. Right on. You living in that city And buying all that stuff And still you look unhappy Cos you'll never have enough No The thirteens. Right on.
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Nov 23, 2011
Nov 23, 2011 at 5:02 AM UTC
The Australian Thirteens (after Maya Angelou)
Phenomenal woman indeed Your poems discovered me While I was just a teenager Not sure of my place But there you were inked in many books Speaking fearless deep within A master of the ink Engraving emotions Tears, pain, joy and strength of a Black Woman Resonated a power so deep and devine Your creative, Angelic style Inspired me to write poetry That can break down pain And wipe baby’s tears And elderly wrinkled cheeks Your poems hug me like a mothers arm Your poem is like armor facing a war Standing up for my beliefs And expressing it freely Your style and the woman you are is emulated I say Thank you Maya Angelou For you is an inspiration And for that Here's my poem as a dedication. All Rights Reserved. Christena Antonia valaire Williams
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Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 12:37 PM UTC
Phenomenal Woman: Maya Angelou
The free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wings in the orange sun rays and dares to claim the sky. But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage can seldom see through his bars of rage his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing. The caged bird sings with fearful trill of the things unknown but longed for still and his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird sings of freedom The free bird thinks of another breeze and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn and he names the sky his own. But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown but longed for still and his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird sings of freedom. Source: I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou, Famous Nature Poems http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/famous/poem/i-know-why-the-caged-bird-sings-by-maya-angelou#ixzz2haXH0qgI #FamilyFriendPoems
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Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 4:21 AM UTC
Caged Birds
On the day I was baptized, I sat in the back pew of my church, weeping. It took a long time for me to arrive on the bank of the River Jordan that Day of All Saints. Flanked by my two young sons also getting dipped that day, moved me to solemn tears; humbled that I would wade into the living waters with my sons as brothers in the Living Christ. My fount of tears rolled cause I finally arrived as one of Gods own. Today I saw Maya Angelou weep. She received The Presidential Medal of Freedom. She sat while the President placed it around her neck. She did not rise to receive it. I think she was sitting in a wheelchair. She looked tired but she was not feeble. She was humble yet remained unbowed. Her eyes were closed as they read a citation about her; yet I know her vision remains keen. She did not look up. She quietly wept. The President kissed her cheek after he clasped the award around her neck. Maya Angelou never looked up. She just wept. Maya, fellow award recipient John Lewis and their son Barack Obama have arrived; sitting at America's table of freedom, as Maya Angelou gently weeps. 2/15/11 Oakland jbm
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Nov 6, 2011
Nov 6, 2011 at 6:15 PM UTC
Maya Angelou Wept