Guest poem sent in by Mukul Hinge
(Poem #1435) Preacher, Don't Send Me Preacher, don't send me when I die to some big ghetto in the sky where rats eat cats of the leopard type and Sunday brunch is grits and tripe. I've known those rats I've seen them kill and grits I've had would make a hill, or maybe a mountain, so what I need from you on Sunday is a different creed. Preacher, please don't promise me streets of gold and milk for free. I stopped all milk at four years old and once I'm dead I won't need gold. I'd call a place pure paradise where families are loyal and strangers are nice, where the music is jazz and the season is fall. Promise me that or nothing at all. |
Just thought I'd submit a poem by Maya Angelou that I really like because its extremely soulful (especially the last verse. I think it reflects the trauma that she faced in her childhood and adolescence... More information about Ms Angelou can be found on www.mayaangelou.com Cheers, Mukul Hinge [Martin adds] This poem has a beautiful, swinging rhythm that despite its apparent simplicity has to have been carefully crafted. I loved it until the last verse, which was disappointingly trite (though it ties in with the 'nothing' references running through a few recent poems). martin
11 comments: ( or Leave a comment )
This poem is terrible. It's quite possibly the worst poem I've ever
read. People have survived worse traumas than 'eating grits,' without
feeling the need to impose such poor poetry on humanity. give me a break.
Hello Martin,
Coincidence! Well Maya angelou is coming to Penn State to give a public
talk. It is timely that I read this poem. I was wondering if you guys
could suggest some good books of hers.
Regards
Ravi Bollina
dear tartan,
seriously you need to get over yourself. maya angelou has been through more than you ever have so if she wants to mention eating grits as a negative in her poem than so be it. seriously, take a chill pill.
---
anyway,
i am in love with this poem. It conveys such insightfulness that it is overwhelming.
This poem is not about grits and tripe, rather, it is about the everyday hardships that some people in this world face every single day! The fact that as a reader you can simply glance at the surface without searching for the inspiration that wrote this poem is an insult to every poet that ever lived. Maya Angelou has been through more hardships in her lifetime than many people will ever experience. This poem is not a complaint about grits! It is a prayer for a place where it is safe and happy. Not a ghetto where you have to fear for life, or a place where there is nothing at all to support life or a family. All the speaker wants in life after everything that she has experienced is a safe place to call home where she can feel safe and secure.
~This poem should be an inspiration to the dreams of happiness in everyone. This is not at all about complaining about eating grits.
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what an interesting poem. I would like to see rats eating cats, I know it is a metaphor, but I guess that would be interesting... and a kind weird.
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