"As I Walked Out One Evening As I walked out one evening, Walking down Bristol Street, The crowds upon the pavement Were fields of harvest wheat..."
I. The sand stretches on and on. From my umbrella's shade to the toe lapping coolness of waves sliding in, I sprint across the wide expanse crying Ouch! with every step. Trapped heat scalds my soles as I tumble headlong toward the water's promise of relief, sighing as saltwalter takes the sting away. II. But the ocean reaches farther still - a hundred miles - even more - to a horizon so hazy it seems like a dream. I close my eyes and fly, free, to the edge of the sky. Breathing in humid air, filling my lungs with the smell of summers long gone and starry skies, I fly. III. I fly to the sound of a thousand tomorrows. Away from a beach sharing decades of stories, above an ocean singing about an eternity of the world in motion. As I cross the horizon, for a split second I'm suspended between this world and the next. Our history sprawled behind me, an infinite future ahead... the beauty in all time and space. I fly. - ljh 6/24/17
Phenomenal Woman Pretty women wonder where my secret lies. I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size But when I start to tell them, They think I'm telling lies. I say, It's in the reach of my arms, The span of my hips, The stride of my step, The curl of my lips. I'm a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That's me. I walk into a room Just as cool as you please, And to a man, The fellows stand or Fall down on their knees. Then they swarm around me, A hive of honey bees. I say, It's the fire in my eyes, And the flash of my teeth, The swing in my waist, And the joy in my feet. I'm a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That's me. Men themselves have wondered What they see in me. They try so much But they can't touch My inner mystery. When I try to show them, They say they still can't see. I say, It's in the arch of my back, The sun of my smile, The ride of my breasts, The grace of my style. I'm a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That's me. Now you understand Just why my head's not bowed. I don't shout or jump about Or have to talk real loud. When you see me passing It ought to make you proud. I say, It's in the click of my heels, The bend of my hair, the palm of my hand, The need for my care, 'Cause I'm a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That's me. - Maya Angelou
The Diner a friend told me she saw a girl that could have been my sister i rushed down to the diner but unfortunately missed her so everyday after school i grabbed myself a table and waited like a desperate fool as long as i was able and after several weeks of that i've written off the place for no one there or anywhere is serving up my face author unknown (source)
"SCHOOL" You're like a little wild thing that was never sent to school. Sit, I say, and you jump up. Come, I say, and you go galloping down the sand to the nearest dead fish with which you perfume your sweet neck. It is summer. How many summers does a little dog have? Run, run, Percy. This is our school. Dog Songs by Mary Oliver, ©2013
Morning Birdsong I close my eyes and listen - just listen - stilling the noise inside. Geese honking past, the woodpecker tapping, even a rooster chimes in once in a while. A low rhythmic undertone - who - oo - woo woo woo And on top the songs of dozens of birds run counterpoint - eee eee eee eee eee ee-ya ee-ya ee-ya eee chee chee chee chee chee a trill scale, a short staccato, a long low calling that carries across the water. Layer after layer of birdsong offered up into the morning sky. - ljh 4/14/17
Courage - by Anne Sexton It is in the small things we see it. The child's first step, as awesome as an earthquake. The first time you rode a bike, wallowing up the sidewalk. The first spanking when your heart went on a journey all alone. When they called you crybaby or poor or fatty or crazy and made you into an alien, you drank their acid and concealed it.
Later, if you faced the death of bombs and bullets you did not do it with a banner, you did it with only a hat to cover your heart. You did not fondle the weakness inside you though it was there. Your courage was a small coal that you kept swallowing. If your buddy saved you and died himself in so doing, then his courage was not courage, it was love; love as simple as shaving soap.
Later, if you have endured a great despair, then you did it alone, getting a transfusion from the fire, picking the scabs off your heart, then wringing it out like a sock. Next, my kinsman, you powdered your sorrow, you gave it a back rub and then you covered it with a blanket and after it had slept a while it woke to the wings of the roses and was transformed.
Later, when you face old age and its natural conclusion your courage will still be shown in the little ways, each spring will be a sword you'll sharpen, those you love will live in a fever of love, and you'll bargain with the calendar and at the last moment when death opens the back door you'll put on your carpet slippers and stride out.
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings The free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wings in the orange sun rays and dares to claim the sky. But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage can seldom see through his bars of rage his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing. The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of the things unknown but longed for still and his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird sings of freedom The free bird thinks of another breeze and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn and he names the sky his own. But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown but longed for still and his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird sings of freedom. - Maya Angelou