"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
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 4:56 AM UTC
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.
Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 2:30 PM UTC
~
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!
~
Jun 1, 2023
Jun 1, 2023 at 5:56 PM UTC
_"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.
Dec 16, 2018
Dec 16, 2018 at 11:57 AM UTC
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
Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 9:40 AM UTC
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.
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 12:53 PM UTC
Still I Rise by Maya Angelou
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 10:32 PM UTC
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.
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 4:37 PM UTC
(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.
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 3:54 PM UTC
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.
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 2:40 PM UTC
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.
Nov 16, 2016
Nov 16, 2016 at 2:39 AM UTC
(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!
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 11:08 PM UTC
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
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 7:15 PM UTC
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
Feb 16, 2011
Feb 16, 2011 at 3:06 PM UTC
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.
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 4:07 PM UTC
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.
Aug 4, 2017
Aug 4, 2017 at 11:12 PM UTC
~
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!
~
Oct 1, 2023
Oct 1, 2023 at 3:33 PM UTC
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!
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 7:13 AM UTC
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.
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 3:10 AM UTC
#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.
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 12:36 PM UTC
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
Nov 17, 2012
Nov 17, 2012 at 3:14 PM UTC
**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.
Nov 23, 2011
Nov 23, 2011 at 5:02 AM UTC
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
Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 12:37 PM UTC
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
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 4:21 AM UTC
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
Nov 6, 2011
Nov 6, 2011 at 6:15 PM UTC