Nephissa Posted July 31, 2005 When I think about myself, I almost laugh myself to death, My life has been one great big joke, A dance that's walked, A song that's spoke, I laugh so hard I almost choke, When I think about myself. Sixty years in these folks' world, The child I works for calls me girl, I say "Yes ma'am" for working's sake. Too proud to bend, Too poor to break, I laugh until my stomach ache, When I think about myself. My folks can make me split my side, I laughed so hard I nearly died, The tales they tell sound just like lying, They grow the fruit, But eat the rind, I laugh until I start to crying, When I think about my folks. Maya Angelou This poem reminds me of the film, Life is Beautiful. both have tremendous sadness hidden under laughter. There is great sadness, deep regret, a resignation that makes the reader want to reach out and comfort the poet. Another one of my favourite: Still I rise 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 back yard. You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may kill 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. Nothing better then listening to Maya Angelou recite her poetry. What a gifted artist! Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Animal Farm Posted September 10, 2005 Good stuff - words will guide us home -- if not we might resort to the gun – murder is morally acceptable when it is massively committed wouldn’t you think? Kidding of course. Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Chocolate and Honey Posted September 28, 2005 Good one, Bishaaro. proud to be black even it pisses the whole world off Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites