Still I Rise
by 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.
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 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
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
by Roman Be
It’s a peculiar force;
The “un-inspired” feeling one can get while seeking to express their creativity.
As life moves ideas come and go
Ebb and flow
Like a pendulum swings
To and fro…
Till the moment comes to act
Toward a particular destination
With rhyme and reason
That’s the season
Season without reason
Nor detection of direction toward a particular destination….
Bags packed and ready to go
Rages in stages
Layered like a white onion
Empty pages and pages and
Tons of ideas
Weigh like a feather
Get up and walk away
Or sit down and learn to stay…
Stay focused upon what one wishes to say
Even if one doesn’t know what one wishes to say
To you …to me …or to one’s self
How does one listen…?
How does one listen well?
by Langston Hughes
I been scarred and battered.
My hopes the wind done scattered.
Snow has friz me,
Sun has baked me,
Looks like between ’em they done
Tried to make me
Stop laughin’, stop lovin’, stop livin’–
But I don’t care!
I’m still here!