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Showing posts with label Poet: Maya Angelou. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poet: Maya Angelou. Show all posts

Preacher, Don't Send Me -- Maya Angelou

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.
-- Maya Angelou
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

Old Folks laugh -- Maya Angelou

Guest poem sent in by Ebor Mithwarg
(Poem #645) Old Folks laugh
 They have spent their
 content of simpering,
 holding their lips this
 and that way, winding
 the lines between
 their brows. Old folks
 allow their bellies to jiggle like slow
 tamborines.
 The hollers
 rise up and spill
 over any way they want.
 When old folks laugh, they free the world.
 They turn slowly, slyly knowing
 the best and the worst
 of remembering.
 Saliva glistens in
 the corners of their mouths,
 their heads wobble
 on brittle necks, but
 their laps
 are filled with memories.
 When old folks laugh, they consider the promise
 of dear painless death, and generously
 forgive life for happening
 to them.
-- Maya Angelou
What I love about this poem is the way it conjures up the tired hilarity of
old people - a way of laughing that is equally a mode of surrender: and the
way the poem is like the laugh itself, blending an elusive sense of joy with
an ancient fatigue.

Aseem

Links:

There's a biography of Angelou at poem #383

The Health-Food Diner -- Maya Angelou

Guest poem submitted by Raj Palaniswamy :
(Poem #383) The Health-Food Diner
No sprouted wheat and soya shoots
And Brussels in a cake,
Carrot straw and spinach raw,
(Today, I need a steak).

Not thick brown rice and rice pilaw
Or mushrooms creamed on toast,
Turnips mashed and parsnips hashed,
(I'm dreaming of a roast).

Health-food folks around the world
Are thinned by anxious zeal,
They look for help in seafood kelp
(I count on breaded veal).

No smoking signs, raw mustard greens,
Zucchini by the ton,
Uncooked kale and bodies frail
Are sure to make me run

to

Loins of pork and chicken thighs
And standing rib, so prime,
Pork chops brown and fresh ground round
(I crave them all the time).

Irish stews and boiled corned beef
and hot dogs by the scores,
or any place that saves a space
For smoking carnivores.
-- Maya Angelou
1983.

Notes: Maya Angelou is better known for her serious poetry about
emancipation, freedom and equality, in particular about African
Americans and women, particularly African American women. I came across
this one by her completely by accident, in a collection of her poetry.
This is different in theme from most of her other work, but is
completely in keeping with her irreverence to what is "accepted" in
polite society. It was written in 1983, but is increasingly funny in the
overly health conscious 90's, and always amuses me. I can imagine her
sitting down to a hearty meal, and laughing as she was writing this. I
am very weight conscious myself but enjoy my meat, second hand smoke and
an occasional puff on a cigar. I expect that most new agers might object
to this poem, and I personally find the parentheses in the last lines a
little unnecessary -- but who can resist this poem?

Raj.

[About the poet]

Maya Angelou, born Marguerite Johnson is an author, poet, historian,
conductor, actress, singer, songwriter, playwright, film director, and
civil rights activist. Born in a segregated rural area of St. Louis,
Arkansas, she comes from a broken home, was raped at eight, and was an
unwed mother at 16 years old. Throughout all these circumstances she
still managed to become San Francisco's first black woman conductor. She
was also the first black woman to have an original screenplay produced
in 1971, Georgia, Georgia. She has several volumes of poetry and some of
her composed music was recorded by B.B. King She was also nominated for
an Emmy Award for her acting in Roots and Georgia. She is fluent in
French, Spanish, Italian, and West African Fanti.

Ms. Angelou began her career in drama and dance, and she married a South
African freedom fighter and lived in Cairo. During her five years in
Africa, she lived in Egypt and became the editor of The Arab Observer,
the only English-language news weekly in the Middle East. Later she also
taught in Ghana and was feature editor of The African Review. In the
1960's she said that being black, female, non-Muslim, non-Arab, six foot
tall, and American made for some interesting experiences during her stay
in Africa. During this time she was also the northern coordinator for
the Southern Christian Leadership Conference at the request of Dr.
Martin Luther King, Jr. She was also appointed to the Bicentennial
Commission by President Gerald Ford, and the National Commission on the
Observance of International Women's Year by Jimmy Carter. She has
published ten best selling books and countless magazine articles, and in
1993 she wrote and delivered the presidential inauguration for President
Bill Clinton.

One of Maya Angelou's books, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, which was
an account of her youth, describes the trauma of being raped as a child,
the violent death of her attacker, and her subsequent refusal to speak
for five years. It was the target of a censorship attack according to
the Dec. 3, 1994 edition of the Washington Afro-American. The Round
Rock, Texas parents thought that the book was "pornographic" and "just
plain filth." It was also a two hour special on CBS. Currently, Ms.
Angelou lectures throughout the United States and abroad and recently
has been a Reynolds professor of American Studies at Wake Forest
University in North Carolina.