| Title | : | The Complete Collected Poems |
| Author | : | |
| Rating | : | |
| ISBN | : | 067942895X |
| ISBN-10 | : | 9780679428954 |
| Language | : | English |
| Format Type | : | Hardcover |
| Number of Pages | : | 273 |
| Publication | : | First published February 1, 1994 |
The Complete Collected Poems Reviews
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What is it like to be a woman of colour with brilliant intellectual and linguistic power? Is it a blessing, is it a curse, is it both at the same time? Isn't it just being human, in the end?
Maya Angelou's poems have accompanied my teaching for a very long time. Her direct, honest words fit any human rights discussions, any debates on racism and misogyny, any reflections on the distribution of wealth and power, privilege and entitlement. Her hopes and fears, her dreams and nightmares are the stuff that humans are made on. She gives everyday life an artistically powerful voice, speaking loudly and confidently from the corner of society that unfortunately still remains invisible or indifferent to those in power.
But Maya Angelou is more than just a writer speaking for those without words of their own. She celebrates love, anger, sadness, community and loneliness from the perspective of individual experience, putting a specific, unique person in focus rather than an underprivileged group. She finds beauty in self-confidence rather than prettiness, in effort rather than accomplishment, in dreams rather than status. Hers is a world that CAN BE - if you believe in yourself.
I will let her speak for herself, and hope her words help those of us who turned out a bit shy, or short, or insecure, or invisible, or overlooked, to grow an inch while reading:
"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."
That's her. She's phenomenal. -
What I like about poetry is that it is never completely "read". Like the Akshaya Patra ("Inexhaustible Vessel") in the Indian Epic Mahabharata, which keeps on delivering food no matter how many times one approaches it, a poetry book will keep on supplying food for the intellect. In every new reading of a favourite poem, you will find something fresh to appreciate.
I read this book by Maya Angelou after I finished the first part of her biography, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, because I was impressed by her boldness and candour. Maya does not try to gloss over the fact that she's black: she embraces it, along with all the distressing historical baggage that comes with it.Africa
Thus she had lain
sugarcane sweet
deserts her hair
golden her feet
mountains her breasts
two Niles her tears.
Thus she has lain
Black through the years.
Over the white seas
rime white and cold
brigands ungentled
icicle bold
took her young daughters
sold her strong sons
churched her with Jesus
bled her with guns.
Thus she has lain.
Now she is rising
remember her pain
remember the losses
her screams loud and vain
remember her riches
her history slain
now she is striding
although she had lain.
This is remembrance with a vengeance.
The past, with it tales of violence, rapes, lynchings and mutilations is not forgotten, neither is it used as force of blind hatred and revenge. It is absorbed and sublimated in the psyche. What is celebrated here is the endurance of a race forced to live for untold years without even the basic dignity afforded to any human being - their humanity.Song for the Old Ones
My Fathers sit on benches
their flesh counts every plank
the slats leave dents of darkness
deep in their withered flanks.
They nod like broken candles
all waxed and burnt profound
they say “It's understanding
that makes the world go round.”
There in those pleated faces
I see the auction block
the chains and slavery's coffles
the whip and lash and stock.
My Fathers speak in voices
that shred my fact and sound
they say “It's our submission
that makes the world go round.”
They used the finest cunning
their naked wits and wiles
the lowly Uncle Tomming
and Aunt Jemimas’ smiles.
They've laughed to shield their crying
then shuffled through their dreams and
stepped ‘n’ fetched a country
to write the blues with screams.
I understand their meaning
it could and did derive
from living on the edge of death
They kept my race alive.
The race is kept alive by the resilience of a people who refuse to break. As the woman in the poem "Our Grandmothers" says:Centered on the world's stage,
she sings to her loves and beloveds,
to her foes and detractors:
However I am perceived and deceived,
however my ignorance and conceits,
lay aside your fears that I will be undone,
for I shall not be moved.
This is the power of silent resistance, of suffering converted to strength. This is what empowered Mahatma Gandhi and Nelson Mandela. And when it's combined with an unapologetic and fiercely sexual femininity, it becomes almost too hot to handle.
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 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 for my care.
‘Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
This phenomenal woman who represents all of Africa also has a bone to pick with her white sister: of traumas passed down through the generations from myth to the present age, which must be exorcised like dust slowly filling ruts on the road of history.Family Affairs
You let down, from arched
Windows,
Over hand-cut stones of your
Cathedrals, seas of golden hair.
While I, pulled by dusty braids,
Left furrows in the
Sands of African beaches.
Princes and commoners
Climbed over waves to reach
Your vaulted boudoirs,
As the sun, capriciously,
Struck silver fire from waiting
Chains, where I was bound.
My screams never reached
The rare tower where you
Lay, birthing masters for
My sons, and for my
Daughters, a swarm of
Unclean badgers, to consume
Their history.
Tired now of pedestal existence
For fear of flying
And vertigo, you descend
And step lightly over My centuries of horror
And take my hand,
Smiling, call me
Sister.
Sister, accept
That I must wait a
While. Allow an age
Of dust to fill
Ruts left on my
Beach in Africa.
Ultimately, among all the poems contained here, it was old man Willie who really captivated me.Willie
Willie was a man without fame,
Hardly anybody knew his name.
Crippled and limping, always walking lame,
He said, “I keep on movin’
Movin’ just the same.”
Solitude was the climate in his head,
Emptiness was the partner in his bed,
Pain echoed in the steps of his tread,
He said, “I keep on followin’
Where the leaders led.
“I may cry and I will die,
But my spirit is the soul of every spring,
Watch for me and you will see
That I'm present in the songs that children sing.”
People called him “Uncle,” “Boy” and “Hey,”
Said, “You can't live through this another day.”
Then, they waited to hear what he would say.
He said, “I'm living
In the games that children play.
“You may enter my sleep, people my dreams,
Threaten my early morning's ease,
But I keep comin’ followin’ laughin’ cryin',
Sure as a summer breeze.
“Wait for me, watch for me.
My spirit is the surge of open seas.
Look for me, ask for me,
I'm the rustle in the autumn leaves.
“When the sun rises
I am the time.
When the children sing
I am the Rhyme.”
He stands there with his toothless smile, not only in America, but all over the world, wherever the misery of one class feeds the luxury of another. His smile seems idiotic to shallow minds. Only the perceptive can understand that it actually carries a timeless wisdom. -
It would be nice to get hold of this volume - I'm sure it would be just fabulous.
But I have just read the poem I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. (Which came first, the book or the poem?) here
https://allpoetry.com/I-Know-Why-The-...
I didn't find the book angry in most parts - although given Angelou's life experiences she had a right to be.
But this poem is very angry - as Angelou had a right to be. It is also powerful and emotional and I really loved it. 5★ -
Lovely poetry.
I've just loved throughout all poems encrypted so greatly with deep emotions.
An incredible piece of poems.
What a catastrophic selection of words.
Some Good lines-
"I note the obvious differences
between each sort and type,
but we are more alike, my friends,
than we are unalike"
"I note the obvious differences
in the human family.
Some of us are serious,
some thrive on comedy"
"Life is too busy, wearying me.
Questions and answers and heavy thought.
I've subtracted and added and multiplied,
and all my figuring has come to naught.
Today I'll give up living."
"My life ain't heaven
but it sure ain't hell.
I'm not on top
but I call it swell
if I'm able to work
and get paid right
and have the luck to be Black
on a Saturday night"
"If they want to learn how to live life right,
they ought to study me on Saturday night"
"You said to lean on Your arm
And I'm leaning
You said to trust in Your love
And I'm trusting
You said to call on Your name
And I'm calling
I'm stepping out on Your word.
You said You'd be my protection,
My only and glorious saviour,
My beautiful Rose of Sharon,
And I'm stepping out on Your word.
Your word.
Joy Joy
The wonderful word of the Son of God."
"When you see me walking, stumbling,
Don't study and get it wrong.
'Cause tired don't mean lazy
And every goodbye ain't gone.
I'm the same person I was back then,
A little less hair, a little less chin,
A lot less lungs and much less wind.
But ain't I lucky I can still breathe in."
"Black like the hour of the night
When your love turns and wriggles close to your side
Black as the earth which has given birth
To nations, and when all else is gone will abide"
"Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide"
"You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise"
"When the sun rises
I am the time.
When the children sing
I am the Rhyme."
"Then you rose into my life
Like a promised sunrise.
Brightening my days with the light in your eyes.
I've never been so strong,
Now I'm where I belong"
"Funky blues
Keen toed shoes
High water pants
Saddy night dance
Red soda water
and anybody's daughter"
"Thus she had lain
sugarcane sweet
deserts her hair
golden her feet
mountains her breasts
two Niles her tears.
Thus she has lain
Black through the years."
"Suits on Me
All the people out of work,
Hold for three, then twist and jerk.
Cross the line, they count you out.
That's what hopping's all about.
Both feet flat, the game is done.
They think I lost. I think I won"
"They'd nasty manners, held like banners,
while they looked down their nose-wise.
I'd see 'em in hell, before they'd sell
me one thing they're wearing, clothes-wise."
"What a pity
that pity has folded in upon itself
an old man's mouth
whose teeth are gone
and I have no pity."
"Where touch to touch is feel
And life a weary whore
I would be carried off, not gently
To a shore,
Where love is the scream of anguish
And no curtain drapes the door."
"I lost a doll once and cried for a week.
She could open her eyes, and do all but speak.
I believe she was took, by some doll-snatching sneak.
I tell you, I hate to lose something." -
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 teedhed lies,
Bellying the grounds before alien gods
Gods, who neither know nor
wish to know that
HELL IS INTERNAL
We love ,
Rubbing the nakednesses with gloved hands
Inverting our mouths in tongued kisses,
Kisses that neither thouch nor
care to touch if
LOVE IS ETERNAL -
I ordered this book the day I heard about the death of Maya Angelou. this beautiful hard cover book was delivered the very next day in which I dropped all of my other reading, The Good Lord Bird, to experience the world of poetry by Maya Angelou. What a wonderful book filled with some of her most popular poems like Phenomenal Woman and Still I Rise, but also of lesser know poems which should have a place along side the popular ones. These poems are varied in themes about relationships, family, love, what it is to be a woman, always with a tinge of African-American culture. If you haven't read any of Maya Angelou's poems or you're just interested in reading outstanding, lyrical poetry this is a perfect place to start. I'd also suggest picking up this particular well made beautiful edition as a keepsake or as a gift for a poetry lover. I know I'll cherish mine dearly and will read it over and over again. James Baldwin said "You will hear the regal woman, the mischievous street girl; you will hear the price of a black woman's survival and you will hear of her generosity. Black, bitter,and beautiful, she speaks of our survival." (quoted from the inside flap of the book) It is a must read in American poetry!
-
Such a beautiful and heartfelt read. My favorite poem had to be Still I Rise, my favorite line being: "You may shoot me with your words, you may cut me with your eyes, you may kill me with your hatefulness, but still, like air, I'll rise." Maya is such an inspirational and captivating woman and I'm so happy to have read her some of her work. I plan to read more soon and have more of Maya in my life. :)
-
His lidless eye slid sideways,
and he rose into my deepest
yearning, bringing
gifts of ready rhythms, and
hourly wound around
my chest,
holding me fast in taut
security,
Then, glistening like
diamonds strewn
upon a black girl's belly,
he left me. And nothing
remains. Beneath my left
breast, two perfect identical punctures,
through which I claim
the air I breathe and
the slithering sound of my own skin
moving in the dark.
**I've had this collection for three years and somehow at the end of each year, I've always revisited it and every year, I find something new in what I've already read. There's so much being addressed in this collection, so many spoken for, that it becomes much more than just a poetry collection.** -
Gentleness and roughness, beauty and ugliness, happiness and sorrow, brightness and darkness -what a bitter-sweet heart touching flow of words are all these poems!
Remembering
"Soft grey ghosts crawl up my sleeve
to peer into my eyes
while I within deny their threats
and answer them with lies.
Mushlike memories perform
a ritual on my lips
I lie in stolid hopelessness
and they lay my soul in strips."
Accident
"Tonight
when you spread your pallet
of magic,
I escaped.
Sitting apart,
I saw you grim and unkempt.
Your vulgarness
not of living,
your demands
not from need.
Tonight
as you sprinkled your brain-
dust
of rainbows,
I had no eyes.
Seeing all
I saw the colors fade
and change.
The blood, red dulled
through the dyes,
and the naked
Black-White truth." -
Some of my favorite lines..
- Of all the beautiful words she has penned, I cannot get this out of my head.Dawn offers
Innocence to a half-mad city.
-This one is just...This bed yawns
beneath the weight
of our absent selves.
-And then we have this:Make room for me
to lead and follow
you
beyond this rage of poetry.
The poems she writes on black violence and black history is poignant and gut wrenching. This is a fantastic collection with most of her popular works collected in one place.
-
Actual rating, 3.7 stars. I loved most of the poems in this collection but a few of them just didn't click with me probably because I wasn't familiar with the sociocultural contexts within.
-
I rarely read poetry because I have difficulty connecting with it. But this collection, on audio, is performed by the author herself, and hearing it in her own voice is profoundly moving. It gave me the opportunity to experience some of her less widely known work. Some of my favorites:
Sounds Like Pearls
Poor Girl
On Reaching Forty
I was also delighted to hear her actually sing parts of several spirituals that were the inspiration for the poem she wrote for Clinton’s inauguration.
Audiobook version, on CD (ISBN 0375420177), that I purchased on a sale rack years ago. Looking it up online just now in hopes of getting some audio samples to link to, I was amazed at the prices, but it looks as though it’s commonly available at public libraries, per WorldCat.
For the Twelve Tasks of the Festive Season book challenge, Task the Fifth: The Kwanzaa (Read a book written by an African-American author or set in an African country) -
She came to my college to give a lecture. Unfortunately, as I was the night circulation supervisor in the library, I couldn't go. But - my favorite literature teacher, Helen Cullins Smith (who was the lady responsible for Ms. Angelou's coming) gave her the poem I'd been inspired to write...Helen came into the library the next day and gave me an announcement that Maya had signed...it said "Wanda Lea — Write On!" I'm still reading her works.
-
Take the blinders from your vision,
take the padding from your ears,
and confess you’ve heard me crying,
and admit you’ve seen my tears.
Hear the tempo so compelling,
hear the blood throb in my veins.
Yes, my drums are beating nightly,
and the rhythms never change.
Equality, and I will be free. -
If you want wonder, beauty, insight, stimulation, inspiration, rhythm and rhyme, language that shines . . . then this one's for you. If you've never read Angelou, please do. If you've never seen a poet, a guru, a Goddess speak, please do. If you've never been inspired, enlivened by the spirit of humankind, that which goes beyond the bounds of the mundane, lifeless, work-a-day world, please do. Get this book, and as Red in Shawshank Redemption states, "You got to either get to living or get to dying." Don't let the world take you down. Let Maya bring you up to the Mountain Top, to the celestial possibilities inherent in all man-woman kind. Amen!
-
Breathe, Brother,
and displace a moment’s hate with organized love.
Still I Rise is one of my favorite poems. Watch her reciting it here, it will melt your heart:
https://youtu.be/qviM_GnJbOM -
Maya Angelou's presence overpowers her writing for me. I've only seen a handful of film interviews and readings, but her voice, delivery, and sheer persona are electric. Thus, having the words stripped of this physical presence felt a bit like a letdown. You can't really hold that against a writer. This is a lot of poetry packed in to one volume and it felt like the quantity watered down the quality of more than a handful of true gems (which probably could be said of mostly any large "complete" collection of a poet). The rhythm and subject matter of her writing appealed most to me--there's a kind of tireless fight for the freedom of the spirit, equality, and the recognition of individual humanity and dignity. She was a writer who knew the kind of world she wanted to fashion with her words and believed those words could make a better world. And this volume lets you see that world through the eyes of a young, passionate woman on through to the wise, American elder she became.
A few favorites:
"London" (I couldn't find an online version to copy and paste or link to.)
----------------------------------
Maya Angelou performing "The Mask" (I don't believe this one is actually in the book.)
----------------------------------
Some Kind of love, Some Say
Is it true the ribs can tell
The kick of a beast from a
Lover’s fist? The bruised
Bones recorded well
The sudden shock, the
Hard impact. Then swollen lids,
Sorry eyes, spoke not
Of lost romance, but hurt.
Hate often is confused. Its
Limits are in zones beyond itself. And
Sadists will not learn that
Love, by nature, exacts a pain
Unequalled on the rack.
----------------------------------
Human Family
I note the obvious differences
in the human family.
Some of us are serious,
some thrive on comedy.
Some declare their lives are lived
as true profundity,
and others claim they really live
the real reality.
The variety of our skin tones
can confuse, bemuse, delight,
brown and pink and beige and purple,
tan and blue and white.
I've sailed upon the seven seas
and stopped in every land,
I've seen the wonders of the world
not yet one common man.
I know ten thousand women
called Jane and Mary Jane,
but I've not seen any two
who really were the same.
Mirror twins are different
although their features jibe,
and lovers think quite different thoughts
while lying side by side.
We love and lose in China,
we weep on England's moors,
and laugh and moan in Guinea,
and thrive on Spanish shores.
We seek success in Finland,
are born and die in Maine.
In minor ways we differ,
in major we're the same.
I note the obvious differences
between each sort and type,
but we are more alike, my friends,
than we are unalike.
We are more alike, my friends,
than we are unalike.
We are more alike, my friends,
than we are unalike. -
Simply divine and delightful.
-
Maya Angelou writes with rhythm, verve, anger, celebration, sexiness. Her poetry is measured, balanced, and rhymed, and it carries the music of her spirit. Whether defiant, empowering, confrontational, sensual, or accepting, each poem is an anthem.
Personal favourites include Caged Bird, Preacher Don't Send Me, On Working White Liberals, Still I Rise, and Equality.Equality
You declare you see me dimly
through a glass which will not shine,
though I stand before you boldly,
trim in rank and marking time.
You do own to hear me faintly
as a whisper out of range,
while my drums beat out the message
and the rhythms never change.
Equality, and I will be free.
Equality, and I will be free.
You announce my ways are wanton,
that I fly from man to man,
but if I'm just a shadow to you,
could you ever understand?
We have lived a painful history,
we know the shameful past,
but I keep on marching forward,
and you keep on coming last.
Equality, and I will be free.
Equality, and I will be free.
Take the blinders from your vision,
take the padding from your ears,
and confess you've heard me crying,
and admit you've seen my tears.
Hear the tempo so compelling,
hear the blood throb in my veins.
Yes, my drums are beating nightly,
and the rhythms never change.
Equality, and I will be free.
Equality, and I will be free. -
I hold Maya Angelou as an icon in my mind, a source of wisdom and grace. This collection also reminds me that she was a brilliantly passionate, even angry, black woman. I was sometimes uncomfortable, often moved, driven to read lines two or three times and always, always in awe. That's good poetry.
Plus, my very favorite Angelou one-liner:
Does my sassiness upset you? -
A beautiful collection of poems by the wonderful and amazing poet, the late Maya Angelou.
There is really nothing else that needs said. -
I gravitate towards people who’ve been through some shit. No offense if your life is perfectly pleasant. But women like Maya Angelou? She lived fully, and she knew things.
Five stars. Not because I love every single poem, but because the ones I do love are just ... I have no words. My jaw kept dropping open, and I couldn’t believe I made it through my whole life thus far WITHOUT that poem.
There are the usual suspects - Still I Rise, Caged Bird, Phenomenal Woman, On Aging. But so much more. Preacher, Don’t Send Me, The Lie, Contemporary Announcement, America, The Memory, When Great Trees Fall, Just Like Job, A Conceit, Woman Work, Alone, Weekend Glory, Call Letters, Many and More, Recovery.
Maya, are you very busy in Heaven? Be my guardian angel? -
"tüm harikalarını gördüm dünyanın
görmedim başkasının aynısı bir insan daha" (s. 117)
Nilgün Marmara'nın şu dizeleri geldi aklınıza değil mi?
"Ey, iki adımlık yerküre
Senin bütün arka bahçelerini
gördüm ben! (Nilgün Marmara - Daktiloya Çekilmiş Şiirler, s.164)
Evet, bu şiirler ifade olarak benzese de çok farklı duyguların yansımaları her ikisi de. Her ikisini de çok seviyorum.
Maya Angelou, acılarla dolu hayatında, ki buraya yazmaya bile elimin varmadığı acılar, son derece harika şiirler ortaya çıkarmış. Bunlardan bazıları beni özellikle etkiledi. Onların üzerinde duracağım.
İlki şu;
"Gelecek hafta aydınlık bir günde
Bombanın düşmesinden hemen önce
Hemen önce dünyanın yok olmasından
Ölümümden hemen önce" (s. 36)
Bu şiirin orjinali ise şöyle:
"On a bright day, next week
Just before the bomb falls
Just before the world ends
Just before I die" *
Şimdi bu dizelerde benim en çok dikkatimi çeken şey "dünyanın yok olmasından önce" ifadesi. Kimi eleştirmenler (örn. Bloom, Lynn Z.) bu şiirde siyahilerin yaşadığı "survival" durumun anlatılmaya çalıştığını söylüyorlar.
Oysa ben bu şiirde çok daha mistik bir hava sezinliyorum. İnsanın ölümünün kendi kıyameti olduğu düşüncesi geliyor aklıma.
Bu şiirin devamında çizilen atmosfer son derece "apokaliptik" bir atmosfer. Siyahilerin yaşadığı baskı ve acıların insanın kozmostaki anlamı ile birbirine eklemlenmesiyle, acıların tek bir acıya dönüştüğü nihai bir durum. Tolstoy'un İvan İlyiç'in Ölümü eserindeki "ama neden acı? öyleyse?" sorusunu hatırlayın.
47. sayfada yer alan "Geçen Zaman" başlıklı şiirine baktığınızda, siyah-beyaz arasındaki dualizmin yerini ölüm ve yaşamın aldığı garip ve gizemli bir dönüşüm dikkatinizi çekecektir.
"biri başlangıcını anlatır
mutlak bir bitişin
öteki, sona erişini
kesin bir başlangıcın" (s. 47)
Şimdi bu durumu nasıl izah edebiliriz? Burada yaratılan post-travmatik atmosferin haricinde bir şey sözkonusu. Angelou bence satır aralarında insan yaşamı ile ölüm arasındaki keskin ikirciliği felsefi tema haline getirmiş.
Angelou'nun her şiirini siyahilere uygulanan baskı penceresinden yorumlamamak gerek. Onun şiirleri son derece çeşitli felsefi temalardan besleniyor. Her şeyden evvel çok güçlü bir hümanizma şiirlerinde hissediliyor.
"İşte buraya, yanı başıma kök salın
Ben ırmağın diktiği o Ağacım,
Hiç kimse yerimden söküp alamaz beni
Ben Taşım, ben Irmağım, ben Ağacım," (s. 146)
M. Baran
20.03.2021
Ankara
Maya Angelou, The Complete Poems of Maya Angelou, Random House, New York, p. 30
Şurada yayınlandı:
https://agacingovdesi.com/2021/03/20/... -
*Favorite poems:
In a Time
Alone
Africa
Song for the Old Ones
Phenomenal Woman
Still I Rise
A Good Woman Feeling Bad
Unmeasured Tempo
Caged Bird
Weekend Glory
Prescience -
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 -
I got my copy from my grandmother and I loved reading through these poems seeing which ones my grandmother stared or small notes she made. I read each poem out loud. Some I cried immediately, some I knew I'd have to circle back and reread. I'm so grateful to have this copy and to read these poems
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I love Maya Angelou and was so sad when she past away.
I don't read poetry usually but loved Maya Angelou's work and loved hearing her when she recited her work.
While reading this I could image Ms. Angelou reciting it in her beautiful deep voice that had so much character to it.
A range of subjects from rights of a people a gender to spiritual beliefs.
Beautiful! -
The first poem I read of Maya Angelou was in Global Literature in 10th grade, when we read "Phenomenal Woman." The powerful literary devices used, especially repetition, made it one of my favorite poems. I was happy when I saw the same poem in this collection of Angelou's poems. The book contains poems on a variety of topics, but I believe Angelou is a feminist writer, and therefore writes poems empowering women. She also includes unforgettable poems that rhyme, deal with past family issues, and capture the ongoing problems of society.
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As with all collections, my rating refers to my overall impression, an informal average. In this set of poems, I found several which I loved for the rhythym & rhyme, several others I loved for the content. Others I found stirred up my feelings, which I admire and are powerful but disturbing. Only a few left me uninterested.
I would strongly recommend this poetry, especially to women. Angelou has a strong feminist voice as well as a voice for African-Americans. She captures the anger as well as the pride, the hope and the despair.
