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Showing posts from June, 2014

The Writer

She gently removed the color off her lips. The kohl was left untouched. As she peeled her mask, she thought about her day. She was used to being ogled at.  Her oblong ear hoops did the trick., Suddenly she wondered if she was right enough.  Just then, a few pages of her work blew in the wind. She ran to collect them.  Even if no one read them, forget publishing, she would write. She knew she was born to write.  


The caged bird sings

Caged Bird
BY MAYA ANGELOU

A free bird leaps
on the back of the wind   
and floats downstream   
till the current ends
and dips his wing
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 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   
sing…