Weekend Glory

Weekend Glory

by Maya Angelou

Some clichty folks
don't know the facts,
posin' and preenin'
and puttin' on acts,
stretchin' their backs.

They move into condos
up over the ranks,
pawn their souls
to the local banks.
Buying big cars
they can't afford,
ridin' around town
actin' bored.

If they want to learn how to live life right
they ought to study me on Saturday night.

My job at the plant
ain't the biggest bet,
but I pay my bills
and stay out of debt.
I get my hair done
for my own self's sake,
so I don't have to pick
and I don't have to rake.

Take the church money out
and head cross town
to my friend girl's house
where we plan our round.
We meet our men and go to a joint
where the music is blue
and to the point.

Folks write about me.
They just can't see
how I work all week
at the factory.
Then get spruced up
and laugh and dance
And turn away from worry
with sassy glance.

They accuse me of livin'
from day to day,
but who are they kiddin'?
So are they.

My life ain't heaven
but it sure ain't hell.
I'm not on top
but I call it swell
if I'm able to work
and get paid right
and have the luck to be Black
on a Saturday night.

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Miscellany

Maya-angelou


Other poems by Maya Angelou (read randomly)


We wear the mask that grins and lies.
It shades our cheeks and hides our eyes.
This debt we pay to human guile

We, unaccustomed to courage exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple

Soft grey ghosts crawl up my sleeve
to peer into my eyes
while I within deny their threats

When I think about myself,
I almost laugh myself to death,
My life has been one great big joke,

Your skin like dawn
Mine like musk
One paints the beginning

My man is Black Golden Amber Changing.
Warm mouths of Brandy Fine
Cautious sunlight on a patterned rug

That man over there say
a woman needs to be helped into carriages
and lifted over ditches

Your smile, delicate
rumor of peace.
Deafening revolutions nestle in the

Your hands easy
weight, teasing the bees
hived in my hair, your smile at the

Give me your hand
Make room for me
to lead and follow

She came home running
back to the mothering blackness
deep in the smothering blackness

The eye follows, the land
Slips upward, creases down, forms
The gentle buttocks of a young

Tears
The crystal lrags
Viscous tatters

We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness

Shadows on the wall
Noises down the hall
Life doesn’t frighten me at all

A last love,
proper in conclusion,
should snip the wings

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