39312161 poems by maya angelou

8/13/2019 39312161 Poems by Maya Angelou

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MAYA ANGELOU. Poet, civil rights activist, dancer, film producer,television producer, playwright, film director, author, actress, professor.Maya Angelou is highly respected as a spokesperson for Black people andwomen. She has made a deliberate attempt to challenge the commonstructure of the autobiography by critiquing, changing, and epanding thegenre. !er books, centered on themes such as identity, family, and racism,are often used as set tets in schools and universities internationally. Someof her more controversial work has been challenged or banned in "S schoolsand libraries.


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A Conceit

#ive me your hand

Make room for meto lead and followyoubeyond this rage of poetry.

$et others havethe privacy oftouching wordsand love of lossof love.

%or me#ive me your hand.


3/35

Alone

$ying, thinking$ast night!ow to find my soul a home&here water is not thirstyAnd bread loaf is not stone' came up with one thingAnd ' don(t believe '(m wrong

)hat nobody,But nobody*an make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone

+obody, but nobody*an make it out here alone.

)here are some millionaires&ith money they can(t use

)heir wives run round like banshees)heir children sing the blues

)hey(ve got epensive doctors)o cure their hearts of stone.But nobody+o, nobody


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*an make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone

+obody, but nobody*an make it out here alone.

+ow if you listen closely'(ll tell you what ' knowStorm clouds are gathering

)he wind is gonna blow)he race of man is sufferingAnd ' can hear the moan,(*ause nobody,But nobody*an make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone+obody, but nobody*an make it out here alone.


5/35

I Know Why the Caged BirdSing

)he free bird leapson the back of the winand floats downstreamtill the current ends

and dips his wingsin the orange sun raysand dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalksdown his narrow cagecan seldom see through

his bars of ragehis wings are clipped andhis feet are tiedso he opens his throat to sing.

)he caged bird sings

with fearful trillof the things unknownbut longed for stilland is tune is heardon the distant hillfor the caged bird


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sings of freedom

)he free bird thinks of another breee

an the trade winds soft through thesighing treesand the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawnand he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave ofdreamshis shadow shouts on a nightmare screamhis wings are clipped and his feet are tiedso he opens his throat to sing

)he caged bird sings

with a fearful trillof things unknownbut longed for stilland his tune is heardon the distant hillfor the caged birdsings of freedom.


7/35

Ino!niac

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


8/35

Men

&hen ' was young, ' used to&atch behind the curtainsAs men walked up and down the street.&ino men, old men.

oung men sharp as mustard.See them. Men are always#oing somewhere.

)hey knew ' was there. %ifteenears old and starving for them."nder my window, they would pauses,

)heir shoulders high like theBreasts of a young girl,

/acket tails slapping over)hose behinds,Men.

0ne day they hold you in thePalms of their hands, gentle, as if you&ere the last raw egg in the world. )hen

)hey tighten up. /ust a little. )he%irst squeee is nice. A quick hug.Soft into your defenselessness. A littleMore. )he hurt begins. &rench out a


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Smile that slides around the fear. &hentheAir disappears,

our mind pops, eploding fiercely, briefly,$ike the head of a kitchen match.Shattered.'t is your 1uice

)hat runs down their legs. Staining theirshoes.&hen the earth rights itself again,And taste tries to return to the tongue,

our body has slammed shut. %orever.+o keys eist.

)hen the window draws full uponour mind. )here, 1ust beyond

)he sway of curtains, men walk.2nowing something.#oing someplace.But this time, ' will simplyStand and watch.

Maybe.


10/35

Million Man March "oe!

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

"nder a dead blue sky on a distant beach,' was dragged by my braids 1ust beyondyour reach.

our hands were tied, your mouth wasbound,

ou couldn(t even call out my name.

ou were helpless and so was ',But unfortunately throughout historyou(ve worn a badge of shame.

' say, the night has been long,)he wound has been deep,)he pit has been dark

And the walls have been steep.

But today, voices of old spirit soundSpeak to us in words profound,Across the years, across the centuries,


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Across the oceans, and across the seas.)hey say, draw near to one another,Save your race.

ou have been paid for in a distant place,)he old ones remind us that slavery(schains!ave paid for our freedom again andagain.

)he night has been long,)he pit has been deep,)he night has been dark,And the walls have been steep.

)he hells we have lived through and livethrough still,

!ave sharpened our senses andtoughened our will.

)he night has been long.)his morning ' look through your anguish3ight down to your soul.' know that with each other we can makeourselves whole.' look through the posture and past yourdisguise,And see your love for family in your bigbrown eyes.


12/35

' say, clap hands and let(s come togetherin this meeting ground,

' say, clap hands and let(s deal with eachother with love,' say, clap hands and let us get from thelow road of indifference,*lap hands, let us come together andreveal our hearts,$et us come together and revise ourspirits,$et us come together and cleanse oursouls,*lap hands, let(s leave the preeningAnd stop impostering our own history.*lap hands, call the spirits back from the

ledge,*lap hands, let us invite 1oy into ourconversation,*ourtesy into our bedrooms,#entleness into our kitchen,*are into our nursery.

)he ancestors remind us, despite thehistory of pain&e are a going-on people who will riseagain.


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And still we rise.

Mo!!a Wel#are $oll

!er arms semaphore fat triangles,Pudgy hands bunched on layered hips

&here bones idle under years of fatbackAnd lima beans.!er 1owls shiver in accusation0f crimes clich4d by3epetition. !er children, strangers

)o childhood(s toys, playBest the games of darkened doorways,

3ooftop tag, and know the slick feel of0ther people(s property.

)oo fat to whore,)oo mad to work,Searches her dreams for the

$ucky sign and walks bare-handed'nto a den of bereaucrats for!er portion.()hey don(t give me welfare.' take it.(


14/35

"aing %i!e

our skin like dawnMine like musk

0ne paints the beginningof a certain end.

)he other, the end of asure beginning.


15/35

"heno!enal Wo!an

Pretty women wonder where my secretlies.

'(m not cute or built to suit a fashionmodel(s sieBut when ' start to tell them,

)hey think '(m telling lies.' say,'t(s in the reach of my arms

)he span of my hips,

)he stride of my step,)he curl of my lips.'(m a womanPhenomenally.Phenomenal woman,

)hat(s me.

' walk into a room/ust as cool as you please,And to a man,

)he fellows stand or


16/35

%all down on their knees.)hen they swarm around me,A hive of honey bees.

' say,'t(s the fire in my eyes,And the flash of my teeth,

)he swing in my waist,And the 1oy in my feet.'(m a womanPhenomenally.Phenomenal woman,

)hat(s me.

Men themselves have wondered&hat they see in me.

)hey try so much

But they can(t touchMy inner mystery.&hen ' try to show them

)hey say they still can(t see.' say,'t(s in the arch of my back,

)he sun of my smile,)he ride of my breasts,)he grace of my style.'(m a woman


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Phenomenally.Phenomenal woman,

)hat(s me.

+ow you understand/ust why my head(s not bowed.' don(t shout or 1ump about0r have to talk real loud.&hen you see me passing't ought to make you proud.' say,'t(s in the click of my heels,

)he bend of my hair,the palm of my hand,

)he need of my care,(*ause '(m a woman

Phenomenally.Phenomenal woman,

)hat(s me.


18/35

$e#&al

Beloved,'n what other lives or lands

!ave ' known your lipsour !andsour $aughter brave'rreverent.

)hose sweet ecesses that' do adore.

&hat surety is there)hat we will meet again,0n other worlds some%uture time undated.' defy my body(s haste.&ithout the promise0f one more sweet encounter

' will not deign to die.


19/35

$e!e!'rance

our hands easy

weight, teasing the beeshived in my hair, your smile at theslope of my cheek. 0n theoccasion, you pressabove me, glowing, spoutingreadiness, mystery rapesmy reason

&hen you have withdrawnyour self and the magic, whenonly the smell of yourlove lingers betweenmy breasts, then, onlythen, can ' greedily consumeyour presence.


20/35

Still I $ie

ou may write me down in history&ith your bitter, twisted lies,

ou may trod me in the very dirtBut still, like dust, '(ll rise.

5oes my sassiness upset you6&hy are you beset with gloom6(*ause ' walk like '(ve got oil wellsPumping in my living room.

/ust like moons and like suns,&ith the certainty of tides,

/ust like hopes springing high,Still '(ll rise.

5id you want to see me broken6Bowed head and lowered eyes6Shoulders falling down like teardrops.&eakened by my soulful cries.


21/35

5oes my haughtiness offend you65on(t you take it awful hard(*ause ' laugh like '(ve got gold mines

5iggin( in my own back yard.

ou may shoot me with your words,ou may cut me with your eyes,ou may kill me with your hatefulness,But still, like air, '(ll rise.

5oes my seiness upset you65oes it come as a surprise

)hat ' dance like '(ve got diamondsAt the meeting of my thighs6

0ut of the huts of history(s shame

' rise"p from a past that(s rooted in pain' rise'(m a black ocean, leaping and wide,&elling and swelling ' bear in the tide.$eaving behind nights of terror and fear' rise'nto a daybreak that(s wondrously clear' riseBringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,' am the dream and the hope of the slave.


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24/35

%ace down in ignorance.our mouths spelling wordsArmed for slaughter.

)he rock cries out today, you may standon me,But do not hide your face.Across the wall of the world,A river sings a beautiful song,*ome rest here by my side.8ach of you a bordered country,5elicate and strangely made proud,

et thrusting perpetually under siege.our armed struggles for profit!ave left collars of waste uponMy shore, currents of debris upon mybreast.

et, today ' call you to my riverside,'f you will study war no more.*ome, clad in peace and ' will sing thesongs

)he *reator gave to me when 'And the tree and stone were one.Before cynicism was a bloody sear acrossyour browAnd when you yet knew you still knewnothing.

)he river sings and sings on.


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)here is a true yearning to respond to)he singing river and the wise rock.So say the Asian, the !ispanic, the /ew,

)he African and +ative American, theSiou,

)he *atholic, the Muslim, the %rench, the#reek,

)he 'rish, the 3abbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,)he #ay, the Straight, the Preacher,)he privileged, the homeless, the teacher.)hey hear. )hey all hear)he speaking of the tree.)oday, the first and last of every treeSpeaks to humankind. *ome to me, herebeside the river.Plant yourself beside me, here beside the

river.8ach of you, descendant of some passedon

)raveller, has been paid for.ou, who gave me my first name,ou Pawnee, Apache and Seneca,ou *herokee +ation, who rested with me,)hen forced on bloody feet,$eft me to the employment of otherseekers--5esperate for gain, starving for gold.


26/35

ou, the )urk, the Swede, the #erman, theScot...

ou the Ashanti, the oruba, the 2ru,

Bought, sold, stolen, arriving on anightmarePraying for a dream.!ere, root yourselves beside me.' am the tree planted by the river,&hich will not be moved.', the rock, ' the river, ' the tree' am yours--your passages have beenpaid.$ift up your faces, you have a piercingneed%or this bright morning dawning for you.!istory, despite its wrenching pain,

*annot be unlived, and if faced withcourage,+eed not be lived again.$ift up your eyes upon

)he day breaking for you.#ive birth again

)o the dream.&omen, children, men,

)ake it into the palms of your hands.Mold it into the shape of your mostPrivate need. Sculpt it into


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)he image of your most public self.$ift up your hearts.8ach new hour holds new chances

%or new beginnings.5o not be wedded forever

)o fear, yoked eternally)o brutishness.)he horion leans forward,0ffering you space to place new steps ofchange.!ere, on the pulse of this fine day

ou may have the courage)o look up and out upon me,)he rock, the river, the tree, your country.+o less to Midas than the mendicant.+o less to you now than the mastodon

then.!ere on the pulse of this new day

ou may have the grace to look up andoutAnd into your sister(s eyes,'nto your brother(s face, your countryAnd say simply7ery simply&ith hope#ood morning.


28/35

%hey Went )o!e

)hey went home and told their wives,that never once in all their lives,had they known a girl like me,But... )hey went home.

)hey said my house was licking clean,no word ' spoke was ever mean,

' had an air of mystery,But... )hey went home.

My praises were on all men(s lips,they liked my smile, my wit, my hips,they(d spend one night, or two or three.But...


29/35

%o&ched 'y an Angel

&e, unaccustomed to courageeiles from delightlive coiled in shells of lonelinessuntil love leaves its high holy templeand comes into our sightto liberate us into life.

$ove arrivesand in its train come ecstasiesold memories of pleasureancient histories of pain.

et if we are bold,love strikes away the chains of fearfrom our souls.

&e are weaned from our timidity'n the flush of love(s lightwe dare be brave


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And suddenly we seethat love costs all we areand will ever be.

et it is only lovewhich sets us free.

Wee(end Glory

Some clichty folksdon(t know the facts,posin( and preenin(and puttin( on acts,stretchin( their backs.

)hey move into condosup over the ranks,pawn their soulsto the local banks.Buying big carsthey can(t afford,ridin( around town

actin( bored.

'f they want to learn how to live life rightthey ought to study me on Saturday night.


31/35

My 1ob at the plantain(t the biggest bet,but ' pay my bills

and stay out of debt.' get my hair donefor my own self(s sake,so ' don(t have to pickand ' don(t have to rake.

)ake the church money outand head cross townto my friend girl(s housewhere we plan our round.&e meet our men and go to a 1ointwhere the music is blueand to the point.

%olks write about me.)hey 1ust can(t seehow ' work all weekat the factory.

)hen get spruced upand laugh and danceAnd turn away from worrywith sassy glance.

)hey accuse me of livin(


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from day to day,but who are they kiddin(6So are they.

My life ain(t heavenbut it sure ain(t hell.'(m not on topbut ' call it swellif '(m able to workand get paid rightand have the luck to be Blackon a Saturday night.


33/35

When Yo& Co!e

&hen you come to me, unbidden,

Beckoning me)o long-ago rooms,&here memories lie.

0ffering me, as to a child, an attic,#atherings of days too few.Baubles of stolen kisses.

)rinkets of borrowed loves.)runks of secret words,

' *3.


34/35

Wo!an Wor(

'(ve got the children to tend

)he clothes to mend)he floor to mop)he food to shop)hen the chicken to fry)he baby to dry' got company to feed

)he garden to weed

'(ve got shirts to press)he tots to dress)he can to be cut' gotta clean up this hut

)hen see about the sickAnd the cotton to pick.

Shine on me, sunshine3ain on me, rain%all softly, dewdropsAnd cool my brow again.


35/35

Storm, blow me from here&ith your fiercest wind

$et me float across the sky()il ' can rest again.

%all gently, snowflakes*over me with white*old icy kisses and$et me rest tonight.

Sun, rain, curving skyMountain, oceans, leaf and stoneStar shine, moon glow

ou(re all that ' can call my own.

39312161 poems by maya angelou

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