The one and only Lucille Clifton

A-My dream about time

By Lucille Clifton 1936-2010

a woman unlike myself is running
down the long hall of a lifeless house
with too many windows which open on
a world she has no language for,
running and running until she reaches
at last the one and only door
which she pulls open to find each wall
is faced with clocks and as she watches
all of the clocks strike
NO

b-poem in praise of menstruation

By Lucille Clifton 1936-2010

if there is a river
more beautiful than this
bright as the blood
red edge of the moon if

there is a river
more faithful than this
returning each month
to the same delta if there

is a river
braver than this
coming and coming in a surge
of passion, of pain if there is

a river
more ancient than this
daughter of eve
mother of cain and of abel if there is in

the universe such a river if
there is some where water
more powerful than this wild
water
pray that it flows also
through animals
beautiful and faithful and ancient
and female and brave


c-sorrow song

By Lucille Clifton 1936-2010

for the eyes of the children,
the last to melt,
the last to vaporize,
for the lingering
eyes of the children, staring,
the eyes of the children of
buchenwald,
of viet nam and johannesburg,
for the eyes of the children
of nagasaki,
for the eyes of the children
of middle passage,
for cherokee eyes, ethiopian eyes,
russian eyes, american eyes,
for all that remains of the children,
their eyes,
staring at us, amazed to see
the extraordinary evil in
ordinary men.

d-won't you celebrate with me

By Lucille Clifton 1936-2010

won't you celebrate with me
what i have shaped into
a kind of life? i had no model.
born in babylon
both nonwhite and woman
what did i see to be except myself?
i made it up
here on this bridge between
starshine and clay,
my one hand holding tight
my other hand; come celebrate
with me that everyday
something has tried to kill me
and has failed.

I really love this..so different.

I really love her.Great writer ever.

Facts about Lucille

In an interview, someone else asked her if poetry was her life. She said no, her life was her life. And was it ever! On the difficult side, during the forty years since her first poems were published, she had confronted the premature death of her husband, cancer, a kidney transplant, dialysis, and the death of two of her six beloved children. She lived with these realities, another one hitting right after it seemed the coast was clear, and she never stopped writing, or living, with grace and humor (Lucille was fun!). She never stopped giving to us--her family, friends, and readers--who depended on her wisdom.

http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/cal/summary/v033/33.2.derricotte.html

:) whenever I read about strong women, inspiring ones, I think of my own mom.

thanks for sharing these good stuff Karlaaa

Welcome Nanaaaaaaaaaa

I loved the period poem omg

Isn't it a paradox? We bleed to be a woman. Our uterus cries and it is a blessing.

Bahahahahha.