I Have this Garden of Poems








full of flowers that bloom
at first
and then carried away with my greenthumb
i planted everything
trees and more trees and shrubs and bamboos
and vines and hanging plants

almost everything
and so the blooming flowers died
and the grasses diminishing like some
hair of this baldness

but nothing is lost in this garden of poems
the birds came and built their nests
some are still coming
every morning
and then the chirping begins





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They Went Home

They went home and told their wives,
that never once in all their lives,
had they known a girl like me,
But... They went home.

They said my house was licking clean,
no word I spoke was ever mean,
I had an air of mystery,
But... They went home.

My praises were on all men's lips,
they liked my smile, my wit, my hips,
they'd spend one night, or two or three.
But...

Maya Angelou


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