Still I Rise

William S. Carter

Woman Thinking

Still I Rise

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.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops.

Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don't you take it awful hard

'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines

Diggin' in my own back yard.

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.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I've got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

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.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise

I rise.

~ Maya Angelou ~

The Harlem Dancer

Archibald Motley, Jr.

The Night Life

The Harlem Dancer

Applauding youths laughed with young prostitutes
And watched her perfect, half-clothed body sway;
Her voice was like the sound of blended flutes
Blown by black players upon a picnic day.
She sang and danced on gracefully and calm,
The light gauze hanging loose about her form;
To me she seemed a proudly-swaying palm
Grown lovelier for passing through a storm.
Upon her swarthy neck black, shiny curls
Profusely fell; and, tossing coins in praise,
The wine-flushed, bold-eyed boys, and even the girls,
Devoured her with their eager, passionate gaze;
But, looking at her falsely-smiling face
I knew her self was not in that strange place.

~ Claude McKay ~

Phenomenal Woman

Felix Vallotton
Woman with a Red Shawl

Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies

I'm not cute or built to suit a model's fashion 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 steps

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 of 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.

~ Maya Angelou ~