The following was a poem that I wrote while being inspired by Maya Angelou’s poem ‘Phenomenal Woman’.
Maya’s poem, ‘Phenomenal Woman’ is one of my most favorite poems in the world. My second favorite is William Henley’s poem, ‘Invictus’. I have copied Maya’s poem below. Interestingly, I will follow her poem with a poem of my own. Although, it is, by no means, as good as hers, she was definitely, my inspiration. You will see the similarities. The similarities having to do with nothing short of self-worth.
OK…Here we go…
Maya Angelou, “Phenomenal Woman” from And Still I Rise. Copyright © 1978 by Maya Angelou. Used by permission of Random House, Inc.
Now, for the poem that I wrote while being inspired by Maya (and also gang stalked). By my opinion, Maya was the most effective, influential poet that has ever lived.
We miss you Maya! You have definitely accomplished more than you have ever imagined. RIP.
“Scened In My Beauty”
By mstmha aka Moody EmPo aka Tiffany Hood-Acolatse
They try to take you away
From that place that completes you.
That something that makes you whole.
With no explanation for the cause of things
to justify your happenings.
For this they are truly bold.
For pushing that crazing negativity
That surrounds you.
So shameful and cold.
Why did they not like my sweetened smile?
Obvious to its benign?
Why did they not care for my mothering touch?
The touch where empty souls revived?
Why did they hate my encouraging sound?
Clear like summer chimes?
Why did they despise the gleam in my eyes
derived from the pride of my desires?
Did they fear my walk like a supermodel primed
when I glided on the scene unsigned?
Did it make them upset because of my personifying youth?
Were they hatin’ on my shine?
Why did it hurt because I was not them,
priding in someone’s demise?
Could they not stand it that my life brought differences?
Did they hope I would not survive?
Did they find jealousy in my elegant physique or
in my sexy stride?
Please elaborate on why I was over-sexed.
Did my lovingingness come as a surprise.
You said that I was an incurable dreamer.
Did my reality make you cry?
Were they disgruntled when I ignored their drama
as I towered above their lies.
Did they despise the way I ignored them
when my name was blasphemised.
How did it feel after causing a scene
and my body still danced the Jive?
Of course, my life is not perfect
in my queen-dom, so refined.
You fester on why you are not scened in my beauty?
Well, in my rhyme, I am God’s loving kind.