Maya Angelou

(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)

Comments about Maya Angelou

  • ... ... (12/13/2007 2:17:00 PM)

    Maya Angelou is the epitome of African-American poetry. People who never heard her name, they don't know real poetry at all.

    7 person liked.
    7 person did not like.
  • Mo. (10/17/2007 3:50:00 PM)

    ''The best Heart doctor:
    Dr. Maya Angelou''

  • Patricia Ansari (8/20/2007 5:53:00 PM)

    To not understand Maya Angelo, is to not be connected. For all who cant except a woman hand picked to speak at a presidential inauguration must be nuts. Give Maya her respect that is due to her. She may not be Shakespear, thats because shes Maya Angelo.

  • Lucía Kenny (8/8/2007 3:31:00 PM)

    I was really impressed when I first read this poem, that's why I've decided to write an essay about it at school. Personally I think we have a mixture of both birds, sometimes when our life is running quite well, we feel as the free bird did, but when we pass through a bad moment or conflict we feel as caged birds trapped in our own prision with no way out. And the only way of surviving is trying to break those 'bars of rage' or shouting and singing until someone can listen to us.

  • Francois Hoon (6/25/2007 7:45:00 PM)

    From pangs of past, comes character that last...
    What a poem! Great work! You can feel the past hurts and memories lingering in the back, but the victory over these and over life itself rings loud and true!

  • Ashish Samani (6/3/2007 5:42:00 AM)

    To,
    The Respected Poet,
    That was the best poem on women, I have ever read.

  • Jeff Fleischer (2/27/2007 2:44:00 PM)

    This is a great poem. I hope you enjoy reading my works.
    jeff

  • T J (1/2/2007 8:05:00 AM)

    Simply put. Beautiful

  • Karen Schley (9/28/2006 8:19:00 PM)

    Thank you for your words being the light. I love your work. You are blessed with discernment. May God bless and keep you.
    Always

  • Leon Leonidas (9/20/2006 12:21:00 AM)

    Phenomenal He-man

    Hunky guys wonder where my secret lies.
    I'm not big or built to suit a sport star’s size
    But when I start to tell them,
    They think I'm telling lies.
    I say,
    It's in the whiff from me pits
    And the thickness of me thighs,
    The hardness of me mitts,
    The way me hair lies.
    I'm a he-man
    Phenomenally.
    Phenomenal he-man,
    That's me.

    I walk into a room
    Just as cool as you please,
    And to a woman,
    The ladies stand or
    Fall down on their knees.
    Then they swarm around me,
    A hive of honey bees.
    I say,
    It's the redness in me eyes,
    And the hair on me chest,
    The way I swing at guys,
    When I give me best.
    I'm a he-man
    Phenomenally.
    Phenomenal he-man,
    That's me.

    Women 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 stiffness of me neck,
    And the crookedness of me teeth,
    The bulge of me deck,
    The cool that lies beneath.
    I'm a he-man

    Phenomenally.
    Phenomenal he-man,
    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 stomp of me boot,
    The grease in my hair,
    That I don’t give a hoot,
    My devil may care,
    'Cause I'm a he-man
    Phenomenally.
    Phenomenal he-man,
    That's me.

    Leon Leonidas

Best Poem of Maya Angelou

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 ...

Read the full of Phenomenal Woman

The Detached

We die,
Welcoming Bluebeards to our darkening closets,
Stranglers to our outstretched necks,
Stranglers, who neither care nor
care to know that
DEATH IS INTERNAL.

We pray,
Savoring sweet the teethed lies,

[Report Error]