Tuesday, April 3, 2018

Renee' Drummond-Brown writes


Still I Write
(The Answer to: Dr. Maya Angelou’s “Still I Rise”)

Maya,
Of course, they wrote you down in history,
You proved them wrong in truth,
But you planted for me calligraphy,
So, I’m heard on paper all the way to God’s celestial roof!

My passion for writing does upset them,
But I can’t be concerned,
Cause you left for me a gift from God,
And it’ll be
forever writing that I yearn.

Just like God’s Raven leaving the Ark,
‘She’ flew to and fro,
Until the waters were dried up from off the earth,
Because of you,
I’ll forever write
in the skies,
seas and dirt;
for certain
this I do know.

I was that broken soul,
And bowed so low to Satan’s pit,
With nowhere to get;
but up,
I allowed my pen to place me within God’s Script(ure).

I know my writings excite you,
And with God for you,
who can be against us,
in giving me that nod,
I finally hear your words loud and clear,
The poems you left behind are messages of truths,
 minus the facades.

Some have shot my writings to pieces,
While others have damaged me over time,
But God
sends a ram in a bush,
ink,
a quill,
and wrote for me Ecclesiastes 3
He Author’s the time and place with limited ‘seasons’
 or their hurtful rhymes.

From the shame you told me to write,
I write,
From the pain you told me to write,
I write,
I am that Raven Blackbird with a large wingspan,
“Renee’s Poems With Wings Are Words In Flight”;
flying all over God’s land,
I too want to leave behind my unhealthy fears,
So, in the dark,
I write,
But in the light,
I see the imagery our ancestors gave to you;
which you passed onto me,
Maya, you are the dream,
Barack Obama was the hope,
and I am the slave set free (to write).
Still I write,
I write,
I’ll write.
Image result for maya angelou paintings 
Maya Angelou --  Donna Jean


3 comments:

  1. Marguerite Annie Johnson, better known as Maya Angelou, was a dancer, sex worker, journalist, singer, poet, playwrite, actor, director, professor, lecturer, memoirist, and activist. Her writing ritual consisted of waking early, checking into a hotel room from which all pictures were removed, writing on legal pads while lying on the bed, drinking sherry, playing solitaire, and consulting a thesaurus and the Bible. She would leave by early afternoon after composing 10–12 pages of material, and in the evening she would edit it down to 4 or 4 pages. One of her best-known poems was "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 backyard.

    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.



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  2. "Ecclesiastes" is the Latin transliteration of "Ekklesiastes," the Greek translation of the Hebrew Qoheleṯ ("Assembler"), the pseudonym of king Shlomoh of Israel. its 3rd chapter reads (in the New International Version):

    There is a time for everything,
    and a season for every activity under the heavens:

    a time to be born and a time to die,
    a time to plant and a time to uproot,
    a time to kill and a time to heal,
    a time to tear down and a time to build,
    a time to weep and a time to laugh,
    a time to mourn and a time to dance,
    a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
    a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
    a time to search and a time to give up,
    a time to keep and a time to throw away,
    a time to tear and a time to mend,
    a time to be silent and a time to speak,
    a time to love and a time to hate,
    a time for war and a time for peace.

    What do workers gain from their toil? I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end. I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to do good while they live. That each of them may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all their toil—this is the gift of God. I know that everything God does will endure forever; nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it. God does it so that people will fear him.

    Whatever is has already been,
    and what will be has been before;
    and God will call the past to account.

    And I saw something else under the sun:

    In the place of judgment—wickedness was there,
    in the place of justice—wickedness was there.

    I said to myself,

    “God will bring into judgment
    both the righteous and the wicked,
    for there will be a time for every activity,
    a time to judge every deed.”

    I also said to myself, “As for humans, God tests them so that they may see that they are like the animals. Surely the fate of human beings is like that of the animals; the same fate awaits them both: As one dies, so dies the other. All have the same breath; humans have no advantage over animals. Everything is meaningless. All go to the same place; all come from dust, and to dust all return. Who knows if the human spirit rises upward and if the spirit of the animal goes down into the earth?”

    So I saw that there is nothing better for a person than to enjoy their work, because that is their lot. For who can bring them to see what will happen after them?

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  3. According to "Genesis" 17 Abram was 99 years old when God changed his name to Abraham ("a father of many nations"), introduced the covenant of circumcision, and changed the name of his 90-year-old wife Sarai to Sara. Abraham was also told that Sara would bear a son, causing the patriarch to fall on his face laughing in disbelief. Soon afterwards they were visited by 3 angels disguised as men and once again told they would be parents within a year, causing Sara to laugh to herself. When their son was indeed born Sara declared, "God had made me to laugh, [so that] all that hear will laugh with me." They named him Yiṣḥaq [Isaac]("he will laugh"). When At some point in Yishaq's youth, God ordered Abraham, "Take your son, your only son, whom you love -- Yishaq -- and go to the region of Moriah. Sacrifice him there as a burnt offering on a mountain I will show you." (Arabs, who, like the Jews, regard Abraham as their ancestor, identify the place as Marwah, near Mecca, but the Jews claim it was the site of the future temple of Solomon.) They traveled 3 days, and Yishaq carried the wood upon which he would be sacrificed; unaware that he was the intended victim, Yishaq asked where the animal for the burnt offering was, and Abraham told him God would provide himself a lamb. Just as Abraham was about to kill Yishaq an angel interrupted him and directed him to a "ram caught in a thicket by his horns," which was sacrificed instead. Samael ("Venom of God"), the angel of death in Talmudic lore, the guardian angel of Yishaq's older, disinherited 1/2 brother Esav (Esau) informed Sara, "Your old husband seized the boy and sacrificed him. The boy wailed and wept; but he could not escape from his father." Sara cried bitterly and died of grief. In another version Satan reported that Yishaq had been sacrificed. After grieving, she reconciled herself to the notion that her act had been at God's command, so then Satan told her that Yishaq was actually alive, causing her to die of joy.

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