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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 sti