Still I Rise by Maya Angelou

This is the first time I've put someone else's poem up and I think it's necessary just because it's susch a moving piece of poetic art. Maya Angelou is already very well known and I hardly think she'll need to me publicize her but I want to put this up because of what it means to me. It is the poem that inspired my most recent poem. You will see the simialrities and it's not a mistake or coincidence. I find myself so heavily influenced by poems/stories in such a way that my poems seems to be re-written mirrors of the poems or stories that inspired me in the first place. It's not preferable but hey, what you gonna do? So here it is: 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.

I Am Beautiful

This post may sound a bit Maya-Angelou-inspired and that's because it is. I am constantly moved and inspired by her and her words. We grew up in very different places, times and cultures but to this day, her words paint a picture that can be eternally understood by young females no matter who or where they are. She speaks of the troubles that any girl or woman goes through at any point of their lives, irrespective of their bank balance. I had hoped to capture something of her essence and transform into me because I cannot and will never be Maya Angelou. No disrespect to her, but I don't want to be her. I am me and that's what I want to celebrate.

I, Am beautiful.
I am who I am and I love it.
From my head, down to my toes
I am a work of art.
No-one can tell me I'm not.
From the bat of my lashes
And the sway of my hips,
I am who I am supposed to be.
They may laugh, they may jeer
But it all falls on a deaf ear.
I know who I am
And I love it.
I will continue to be proud;
Of the arch of my brow;
Of the curve of my breasts;
Of the shape of my calves.
I am who I am through and through
And no-one but me, myself or I
Can change how I feel.

Things Are Looking Up

Today the sun announced itself
In a way I haven't seen before.
It smiled, grinned and giggled
As it rose above the horizon.

I opened my eyes
And I had hope.

By midday, it was happily sitting,
In the middle of the sky.
It shone with a brilliance
That you could only admire.

I broke into a laugh
And I was relieved.

At the end of the day
When it was time to go,
It glowed as it disappeared,
But promised to be back.

I close my eyes
And I am happy.

I know it's all sad but I promise I'll get past it.

Tick... Tock... Goes the clock.
The seconds drag on by.
There is silence.
'Silence is golden' they say
But they never say it hurts;
My aching. Bleeding. Heart.

Drip... Drip... Goes the tap.
The hollow sound digs into me.
I don't know when it started.
I'm just glad it there,
Because it comforts
My aching. Bleeding. Heart.

Tap... Tap... Goes the rain
It hits my window pane.
When did it start?
...Something strange about it...
It goes to the beat of
My aching. Bleeding. Heart.

Tick-tock, drip-drip, tap-tap
Tick-drip-tap, tock-drip-tap
Does it matter?
I sat here for an eternity,
And I have to sit for another;
Just me and
My aching. Bleeding. Heart.