Liberian Literary Magazine January Issue 0115 Young Woman At A Window
While she sits there with tears on her cheek her cheek on her hand this little child who robs her knows nothing of his theft but rubs his nose
She sits with tears on her cheek her cheek on her hand the child in her lap his nose pressed to the glass
WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS
Still I Rise
You may write me down in history With your bitter , twisted lies , You may tread 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
A Dream Within A Dream
Take this kiss upon the brow ! And , in parting from you now , Thus much let me avow- You are not wrong , who deem That my days have been a dream ; Yet if hope has flown away In a night , or in a day , In a vision , or in none , Is it therefore the less gone ? All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream .
I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore , And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand- How few ! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep , While I weep- while I weep ! O God ! can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp ? O God ! can I not save One from the pitiless wave ? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream ?
EDGAR ALLAN POE
If
If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you ; If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you , But make allowance for their doubting too : If you can wait and not be tired by waiting , Or , being lied about , don ' t deal in lies , Or being hated don ' t give way to hating , And yet don ' t look too good ,
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