When I was in junior high, I first learned about poetry. My brother's girlfriend at the time had created an assembly for the kids at my school. She wanted me to read "Still I Rise" by Maya Angelou in front of the entire school. The entire idea filled me with dread. Getting up in front of everybody and reading this poem? I couldn't do it. I didn't quite understand the meaning behind the poem. I hadn't reached a point where that poem had significance to me.
What I found so interesting about this piece is that with age came understanding of what it truly meant to me. I think that is the way of a lot of writing that passes through our lives. It is very relevant for a time period or a season. Sometimes it will vibe with you throughout life. It's all so very subjective and something I'd like to explore this week.
Poetry Prompt:
To tip a hat to Black History Month, choose a poem written by a black poet. Read over it a couple of times and ruminate on it. Can you relate to this at this stage in your life? Can you relate at all? How does it make you feel? Write down the feelings it invokes in you. After you've done this, write a poem including those emotions. Here's an article that mentions 20 famous black poets to help you along. You can use any poem from any black poet, famous or not. The article is just a suggestion.
Here's the poem that I was talking about and the inspiration for my poem:
Tamara Woods writes, because she can’t imagine a life where she didn’t. She grew up in the poorest state in the United States, West Virginia, as a laid-off coal miner’s daughter. She learned from this that money isn’t the root of all happiness, but it sure makes it easier. One fateful summer at a youth workshop she learned both the art of stolen kisses and being open in her poetry: lessons she’s never forgotten.
Tamara’s poetry is spoken word with a heavy emphasis on things that we all know and do. Her fiction hits on darker, uncomfortable subjects, because she’s a firm believer that stories can be beautiful without being pretty.
She is the Editor of The Reverie Journal, online poetry site. She is the moderator of #writestuff a writing tweetchat that's every Tuesday at 9 p.m. EST. Find her poetry on her blog PenPaperPad. Connect on Social Media: Follow her on Twitter, like her on Facebook, and check out her book and writing videos on YouTube.
Back in May of this year, the world lost a legend. Maya Angelou was known around the globe as a writer, a poet, an advocate for women, and a civil rights activist. She was still touring and giving public lectures well into her eighties. It is with deep regret that I admit to missing her appearance in my city less than a year before her passing. Her poetry paints a beautiful picture of a life of overcoming, a life of strength in the face of adversity, a life of finding incredible joy in simple moments.
Years ago, I was teaching creative movement classes to high school students. One of the assignments that I gave to my advanced class was to select a poem and either find a recording of it or record a read of it themselves, then choreograph movement inspired by the poem. The most memorable outcome of that assignment was done by a young lady who chose to work alone rather than with a group (an option that I did allow) and she selected the poem "Phenomenal Woman" as her accompaniment. The pairing of Maya's powerful words as the backdrop for the raw beauty in the movements during the presentation inspire me still to this day.
Here are those inspiring words once again:
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 of my care, 'Cause I'm a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That's me. ~ Maya Angelou
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