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.

Her arms semaphore fat triangles,
Pudgy hands bunched on layered
Where bones idle under years of
And lima beans.

Preacher, don't send mewhen I dieto some big ghettoin the skywhere rats eat catsof the leopard typeand Sunday brunchis grits and tripe.
I've known those ratsI've seen them killand grits I've hadwould make a hill,
or maybe a…

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.

I keep on dying again.
Veins collapse, opening like
Small fists of
Children.

No sprouted wheat and soya
And Brussels in a cake,
Carrot straw and spinach raw,(Today,
I need a steak).

When I was young,
I used
Watch behind the
As men walked up and down the street.

They have spent theircontent of simpering,
holding their lips thisand that way, windingthe lines betweentheir brows.
Old folksallow their bellies to jiggle like slowtambourines.
The hollersrise up and spillover any way they…

Your skin like
Mine like
One paints the beginningof a certain end.
The other, the end of asure beginning.

The night has been long,
The wound has been deep,
The pit has been dark,
And the walls have been steep.

I've got the children to
The clothes to
The floor to
The food to

A free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends

A Rock,
A River,
A
Hosts to species long since departed,

Petulant priests, greedycenturions, and one millionincensed gestures standbetween your love and me.
Your agape sacrificeis reduced to colored glass,
vapid penance, and thetedium of ritual.
Your footprints yetmark the crest…

Some clichty folksdon't know the facts,
posin' and preenin'and puttin' on acts,
stretchin' their backs.
They move into condosup over the ranks

Beloved,
In what other lives or
Have I known your
Your

Your hands easyweight, teasing the beeshived in my hair, your smile at theslope of my cheek.
On theoccasion, you pressabove me, glowing, spoutingreadiness, mystery rapesmy
When you have withdrawnyour self and the magic, whenonly the…

When you come to me, unbidden,
Beckoning
To long-ago rooms,
Where memories lie.

Give me your
Make room for meto lead and followyoubeyond this rage of poetry.
Let others havethe privacy oftouching wordsand love of lossof love.
For

We, unaccustomed to courageexiles from delightlive coiled in shells of lonelinessuntil love leaves its high holy templeand comes into our sightto liberate us into life.
Love arrivesand in its train come ecstasiesold memories of…

I note the obvious differencesin the human family.
Some of us are serious,
some thrive on comedy.
Some declare their lives are livedas true profundity

There are some nights whensleep plays coy,
aloof and disdainful.
And all the wilesthat I employ to winits service to my sideare useless as wounded pride,
and much more painful.