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Tag Archives: Still I Rise

Scarf, Maya Angelou and Martin Luther King

I needed to have a golden yellow scarf for today for the funeral of our choir member who died in March. He was a staunch Cornishman and wanted us to wear black and golden yellow, Cornish colours, and yesterday I found this beauty, yellow gold with purple, white and green – just perfect. It was a beautiful Ceremony, full of singing  and joy as well as some tears, a real celebration of a life well lived.

My new scarf for Paul’s Ceremony

Maya Angelou was born on this day in 1928 and as I may not still be writing my blog in 10 years to celebrate her Centenary, here I give you another of her beauties, ‘Come, and be my Baby.’ You can find her wonderful ‘Still I Rise’ poem here.
Come, and be my Baby
The highway is full of big cars
going nowhere fast
And folks is smoking anything that’ll burn
Some people wrap their lies around a cocktail glass
And you sit wondering
where you’re going to turn
I got it.
Come. And be my baby.
 
Some prophets say the world is gonna end tomorrow
But others say we’ve got a week or two
The paper is full of every kind of blooming horror
And you sit wondering
What you’re gonna do.
I got it.
Come. And be my baby.
It is 50 years ago on this date that Martin Luther king was assassinated. To mark this occasion, the 5pm news programme on BBC Radio 4 played part of his I have a Dream speech that I had never heard before. MLK explains, in wonderful rhetoric, what would have happened or not happened if he had sneezed after being stabbed some years before. Do have a listen.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GfpbkTP-XaY
 

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The Ceremony of the Pasty, Tea Tent and Today’s Poem

What a cracker of a morning taking part in The Ceremony of the Pasty! If you’d like to see it and hear us singing, here is the link  https://www.periscope.tv/battersea_arts/1BRKjMLjPQVxw  The whole event was live-streamed by Battersea Arts. To find out more about the Ceremony, do watch the video. I love the seagulls joining in with us. The little dog you can see within the choir is Brea, a little beauty.

The Lord High Chancellor of the Pasty presenting the enormous pasty to Emma to be taken up to Battersea

The Lord High Chancellor of the Pasty presenting the enormous pasty to Emma to be taken up to Battersea

The Lord High Chancellor with the High Tidings recording of sea sounds and Cornish stories, also going up to London on the train as soon as the Ceremony is finished

The Lord High Chancellor with the High Tidings recording of sea sounds and Cornish stories, also going up to London on the train as soon as the Ceremony is finished

Brea

Brea

In the tea tent

In the tea tent on Lemon Quay at the Truro Festival

In the tea tent

In the tea tent

It is Maya Angelou’s birthday today and here is one of my favourite poems, Still I Rise, for women everywhere.

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread 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 back yard.

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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Maya Angelou, Knitted Staircase and Yorkshire Stone

1    Maya Angelou died today. As a spokesperson for her family said, “She lived a life as a teacher, activist, artist and human being. She was a warrior for equality, tolerance and peace.”
She was a wonderful woman and a role model for us all. I loved her writings and especially her poem ‘Still I Rise’ which you will find at the end of today’s post. I loved her philosophy and these words that she left us – “Try to be a rainbow in someone’s cloud.”

2    I have joined just five of our knitted pieces together and they fill our staircase! I have eight more here and there are at least five more almost completed by friends. I’ll need the garden to lay them all out!  Imagine SEVEN MILES of peaceful protest knitting  stretched between Atomic Weapons Establishment sites at Aldermaston and Burghfield, Berkshire, where nuclear weapons are made.

Some of our knitting for Wool Against Weapons

Some of our knitting for Wool Against Weapons

3   Another job I have enjoyed doing today is the annual power washing of the Yorkshire stones of the patio. It always delights me afresh to see how pretty the stones are and to re-discover the fern patterns in them.

Feathery markings

Feathery markings

 

Still I Rise          Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread 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 back yard.

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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