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Maya Angelou

Maya Angelou

The Mothering Blackness
She came home running
      back to the mothering blackness
      deep in the smothering blackness
white tears icicle gold plains of her face
      She came home running
 
 
She came down creeping
      here to the black arms waiting
      now to the warm heart waiting
rime of alien dreams befrosts her rich brown face
      She came down creeping
 
 
She came home blameless
      black yet as Hagar’s daughter
      tall as was Sheba’s daughter
threats of northern winds die on the desert’s face
      She came home blameless

#AmericanWriters #Living #Parenthood #RaceAndEthnicity #RhymedStanza #SocialCommentaries

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Weekend Glory

Some clichty folks don’t know the facts, posin’ and preenin’ and puttin’ on acts, stretchin’ their backs.
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The Pusher

He bad O he bad He make a honky poot. Make it honky’s blue eyes squint
Madame Cézanne in a red armchair, by Paul Cézanne
Alone

Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone
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The Lesson

I keep on drying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
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Interior, by Edgar Degas
When You Come

When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie. Offering me, as to a child, an att…
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Am Not I A Man And A Brother, by Unknown artist
To a Freedom Fighter

You drink a bitter draught. I sip the tears your eyes fight to… A cup of lees, of henbane steeped… Your breast is hot, Your anger black and cold,
 1
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Passing Time

Your skin like dawn Mine like musk One paints the beginning of a certain end. The other, the end of a
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The Rock Cries Out to Us Today

A Rock, A River, A Tree Hosts to species long since depart… Mark the mastodon. The dinosaur, who left dry tokens Of their sojourn here
Woman Me

Your smile, delicate rumor of peace. Deafening revolutions nestle in th… cleavage of your breasts
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Human Family

I note the obvious differences in the human family. Some of us are serious, some thrive on comedy. Some declare their lives are lived
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Million Man March Poem

The night has been long, The wound has been deep, The pit has been dark, And the walls have been steep. Under a dead blue sky on a distant…
Recovery

A last love, proper in conclusion, should snip the wings forbidding further flight. But I, now,
 4
Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secre… I’m not cute or built to suit a fa… But when I start to tell them, They think I’m telling lies. I say,
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Valentine Godé-Darel in the hospital bed, by Ferdinand Hodler
The Lesson

I keep on dying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
 11
Remembering

Soft grey ghosts crawl up my sleev… to peer into my eyes while I within deny their threats and answer them with lies. Mushlike memories perform
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