Poem Poems - Poems For Poem

Poem poems from famous poets and best poem poems to feel good. Most beautiful poem poems ever written. Read all poems for poem.


Million Man March Poem - Poem by Maya Angelou

The night has been long,
The wound has been deep,
The pit has been dark,
And the walls have been steep.

Under a dead blue sky on a distant beach,
I was dragged by my braids just beyond your reach.
Your hands were tied, your mouth was bound,
You couldn't even call out my name.
You were helpless and so was I,
But unfortunately throughout history
You've worn a badge of shame.

I say, the night has been long,
The wound has been deep,
The pit has been dark
And the walls have been steep.

But today, voices of old spirit sound
Speak to us in words profound,
Across the years, across the centuries,
Across the oceans, and across the seas.
They say, draw near to one another,
Save your race.
You have been paid for in a distant place,
The old ones remind us that slavery's chains
Have paid for our freedom again and again.

The night has been long,
The pit has been deep,
The night has been dark,
And the walls have been steep.

The hells we have lived through and live through still,
Have sharpened our senses and toughened our will.
The night has been long.
This morning I look through your anguish
Right down to your soul.
I know that with each other we can make ourselves whole.
I look through the posture and past your disguise,
And see your love for family in your big brown eyes.

I say, clap hands and let's come together in this meeting ground,
I say, clap hands and let's deal with each other with love,
I say, clap hands and let us get from the low road of indifference,
Clap hands, let us come together and reveal our hearts,
Let us come together and revise our spirits,
Let us come together and cleanse our souls,
Clap hands, let's leave the preening
And stop impostering our own history.
Clap hands, call the spirits back from the ledge,
Clap hands, let us invite joy into our conversation,
Courtesy into our bedrooms,
Gentleness into our kitchen,
Care into our nursery.

The ancestors remind us, despite the history of pain
We are a going-on people who will rise again.

And still we rise.


Comments about Million Man March Poem by Maya Angelou

  • Gold Star - 186,451 Points Me Poet Yeps Poet (5/12/2020 1:30:00 PM)

    poets who are sincere and deep are never outta reach I beseech let her RISE even now though after her demise RISE poetess rise the world will stand by few have the strength as have thee poetess a times marvel are ye (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Veteran Poet - 1,982 Points Manpreet Singh (8/20/2019 10:52:00 PM)

    The hells we have lived through and live through still,
    Have sharpened our senses and toughened our will.

    I find this line quite epigrammatic, and philosophical. The depth of this poem makes you nauseous.
    (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Gold Star - 364,990 Points Dr Tony Brahmin (8/20/2019 12:12:00 PM)

    I say, the night has been long,
    The wound has been deep,
    The pit has been dark
    And the walls have been steep. apartheid experiences .. well portryed.. tony
    (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Gold Star - 436,246 Points Kumarmani Mahakul (8/20/2019 9:33:00 AM)

    Let us come together and revise our spirits,
    Let us come together and cleanse our souls, .......yes, let' s so. A brilliant poem is nicely executed.
    (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Silver Star - 3,887 Points Alouwou Mandjah (8/20/2019 7:56:00 AM)

    Still rising Maya the immortal (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Rookie Parameswaran Nair Damodaran Nair(DPN) (8/20/2019 7:34:00 AM)

    It's the iron will of a revolutionary to ponder the hells lived through (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Gold Star - 180,465 Points Mahtab Bangalee (8/20/2019 1:45:00 AM)

    I say, the night has been long,
    The wound has been deep,
    The pit has been dark
    And the walls have been steep......../// beautiful and excellent poetic expression
    (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Gold Star - 135,204 Points Aniruddha Pathak (8/20/2019 1:01:00 AM)

    What a beautiful quatrain used as a refrain repeated a couple of times.
    And how nicely the poem ends with a hopeful sentiment.
    Lovely.
    (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Gold Star - 109,116 Points Ratnakar Mandlik (7/2/2019 10:32:00 AM)

    " The night has been long
    The wound has been deep
    The pit has been dark
    And the walls have been steep" .
    A great poem with deep meaning.
    (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • Gold Star - 23,715 Points Edmund Strolis (6/3/2018 10:13:00 AM)

    A marcher forever looking over your shoulder toward the ever-receding past will never see your destination and the present possibilities will always be missed. (Report) Reply

    1 person liked.
    4 person did not like.
Read all 38 comments »
Poem Poems
  1. 1. Million Man March Poem
    Maya Angelou
  2. 2. An Almost Made Up Poem
    Charles Bukowski
  3. 3. A Silly Poem
    Spike Milligan
  4. 4. The Saddest Poem
    Pablo Neruda
  5. 5. Saddest Poem
    Pablo Neruda
  6. 6. A Birthday Poem
    Ted Kooser
  7. 7. Poem
    Simon Armitage
  8. 8. I Am Offering This Poem
    Jimmy Santiago Baca
  9. 9. Poem On His Birthday
    Dylan Thomas
  10. 10. Kinetic Poem No.2
    Roger McGough
  11. 11. Poem In Praise Of Menstruation
    Lucille Clifton
  12. 12. Night Poem
    Margaret Atwood
  13. 13. A Funeral Poem On The Death Of C. E. An ..
    Phillis Wheatley
  14. 14. Poem For A Poem
    Naseer Ahmed Nasir
  15. 15. Love Poem
    Richard Brautigan
  16. 16. A Dramatic Poem
    William Butler Yeats
  17. 17. Poem Of Night
    Galway Kinnell
  18. 18. Poem In October
    Dylan Thomas
  19. 19. Rhyming Poem
    Charles Bukowski
  20. 20. A Poem For Myself
    Etheridge Knight
  21. 21. A Quiet Poem
    Frank O'Hara
  22. 22. To Make A Dadist Poem
    Tristan Tzara
  23. 23. Poem For My 43rd Birthday
    Charles Bukowski
  24. 24. Poem 1
    Edmund Spenser
  25. 25. Poem (As The Cat)
    William Carlos Williams
  26. 26. Michael: A Pastoral Poem
    William Wordsworth
  27. 27. Poem For Maya
    Carolyn Forché
  28. 28. Notice What This Poem Is Not Doing
    William Stafford
  29. 29. Poem
    Elizabeth Bishop
  30. 30. In A Poem
    Robert Frost
  31. 31. Love Poem
    Kathleen Jessie Raine
  32. 32. God, A Poem
    James Fenton1
  33. 33. The Lost Baby Poem
    Lucille Clifton
  34. 34. A Descriptive Poem On The Silvery Tay
    William Topaz McGonagall
  35. 35. Other Lives And Dimensions And Finally A..
    Bob Hicok
  36. 36. The Next Poem
    Dana Gioia
  37. 37. The Poem You Asked For
    Larry Levis
  38. 38. Love Poem
    Louise Gluck
  39. 39. Willow Poem
    William Carlos Williams
  40. 40. A Poem For The End Of The Century
    Czeslaw Milosz
  41. 41. Poem 24
    Edmund Spenser
  42. 42. Poem Written At Morning
    Wallace Stevens
  43. 43. Poem (Lana Turner Has Collapsed!)
    Frank O'Hara
  44. 44. Beauty: [notes For An Unfinished Poem]
    Wilfred Owen
  45. 45. A Poem For You...
    Ravi Sathasivam
  46. 46. Poem (Hate Is Only One Of Many Responses)
    Frank O'Hara
  47. 47. Your Poem
    Robert William Service
  48. 48. Heroic Poem In Praise Of Wine
    Hilaire Belloc
  49. 49. Endless Poem
    Yehuda Amichai
  50. 50. Poem For Easter
    Steve Turner

Poem Poems

  1. The Saddest Poem

    I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars, and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance." The night wind whirls in the sky and sings. I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. On nights like this, I held her in my arms. I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky. She loved me, sometimes I loved her. How could I not have loved her large, still eyes? I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her. To hear the immense night, more immense without her. And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass. What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her. The night is full of stars and she is not with me. That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away. My soul is lost without her. As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her. My heart searches for her and she is not with me. The same night that whitens the same trees. We, we who were, we are the same no longer. I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her. My voice searched the wind to touch her ear. Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once belonged to my kisses. Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes. I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her. Love is so short and oblivion so long. Because on nights like this I held her in my arms, my soul is lost without her. Although this may be the last pain she causes me, and this may be the last poem I write for her.

  2. An Almost Made Up Poem

    I see you drinking at a fountain with tiny blue hands, no, your hands are not tiny they are small, and the fountain is in France where you wrote me that last letter and I answered and never heard from you again. you used to write insane poems about ANGELS AND GOD, all in upper case, and you knew famous artists and most of them were your lovers, and I wrote back, it' all right, go ahead, enter their lives, I' not jealous because we' never met. we got close once in New Orleans, one half block, but never met, never touched. so you went with the famous and wrote about the famous, and, of course, what you found out is that the famous are worried about their fame - not the beautiful young girl in bed with them, who gives them that, and then awakens in the morning to write upper case poems about ANGELS AND GOD. we know God is dead, they' told us, but listening to you I wasn' sure. maybe it was the upper case. you were one of the best female poets and I told the publishers, editors, " her, print her, she' mad but she' magic. there' no lie in her fire." I loved you like a man loves a woman he never touches, only writes to, keeps little photographs of. I would have loved you more if I had sat in a small room rolling a cigarette and listened to you piss in the bathroom, but that didn' happen. your letters got sadder. your lovers betrayed you. kid, I wrote back, all lovers betray. it didn' help. you said you had a crying bench and it was by a bridge and the bridge was over a river and you sat on the crying bench every night and wept for the lovers who had hurt and forgotten you. I wrote back but never heard again. a friend wrote me of your suicide 3 or 4 months after it happened. if I had met you I would probably have been unfair to you or you to me. it was best like this.

  3. Saddest Poem

    I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars, and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance." The night wind whirls in the sky and sings. I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. On nights like this, I held her in my arms. I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky. She loved me, sometimes I loved her. How could I not have loved her large, still eyes? I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her. To hear the immense night, more immense without her. And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass. What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her. The night is full of stars and she is not with me. That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away. My soul is lost without her. As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her. My heart searches for her and she is not with me. The same night that whitens the same trees. We, we who were, we are the same no longer. I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her. My voice searched the wind to touch her ear. Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once belonged to my kisses. Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes. I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her. Love is so short and oblivion so long. Because on nights like this I held her in my arms, my soul is lost without her. Although this may be the last pain she causes me, and this may be the last poem I write for her.

  4. A Silly Poem

    Said Hamlet to Ophelia, I'll draw a sketch of thee, What kind of pencil shall I use? 2B or not 2B?

[Report Error]