Words: Maya Angelou
September 6th, 2009 § 4 Comments
Maya Angelou
The Lesson
I keep on dying again.
Veins collapse, opening like the
Small fists of sleeping
Children.
Memory of old tombs,
Rotting flesh and worms do
Not convince me against
The challenge. The years
And cold defeat live deep in
Lines along my face.
They dull my eyes, yet
I keep on dying,
Because I love to live.
Advertisement
beautiful
“Le Monde diplomatique” recommended “Pulse” so I clicked on it to find at the top of the page a poem by Maya Angelou. If this mediocrity is an indication of the quality of “Pulse” then my interest has been satisfied.
Dear William,
We in turn pride ourselves on our many discerning readers who read widely beyond the top-of-page post and who would not be so hasty as to judge the whole content of a site by the last post. As to Maya Angelou, it is not a precondition to like her poetry to appreciate the site.
Le Monde Diplomatique?
Nearly 40% of Liberation (the other French left daily) are Rothschild-owned and the clan are keen to get their hands on another French organ,so to speak!
Le Monde,they say,could be the next target.
Endorsement from one of the Sabbatean clan’s many broadsheets is not going to be the best selling point for a centre-left anti-Zionist website is it?
I thought Pulse’s most impressive endorsement came not from Le Monde Diplomatique-but from the CFR and Bilderberger groups!
More seriously,while the Angelou passage cited,Words,is clearly not distilled from her best vintage poetry,it is expressive of Angelou’s literary project as a whole.
“You may encounter defeats but you must not be defeated”-she is often quoted as saying is the aphorism that best epitomises her oeuvre.And her work certainly is a testament to human endurance in the face of seemingly impossible odds.
Yet this endurance is integral to much black writing down the ages and the distinctly elegiac qualities it often embodies.
Angelou’s first autobiographical work,I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings,takes its title from the most poignant and resonant line in Paul Laurence Dunbar’s (1872-1906)poem,Sympathy.
A highly unlikely candidate for literary fame in turn of the century white supremacist America Dunbar’s first book of poetry for the publication of which he took out a loan is a self-revealing lament about the misreading of his work by whites.
In Dunbar’s verse there lies an intensity of desire for full artistic self-expression that remained elusive for blacks during his lifetime.
The final verse of Sympathy runs thus-
I know why the caged bird sings,ah me
When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,-
When he beats his bars and he would be free;
It is not a carol of joy or glee,
But a prayer that he sends from his heart’s deep core,
But a plea,that up to heaven he flings-
I know why the caged bird sings!
Sadly,unlike Angelou,but like many black artists of the era,Dunbar did not endure.Heavy drinking and TB took their toll and he died aged 34.
His words,however,have endured and proved inspirational to writers like Maya Angelou.The title of her first autobiographical work,is testament to the ancestral acknowledgement that characterises art in the black tradition.