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poem by maya angelou
By vrtualme | August 10, 2007
Pretty women wonder
where my secret lies.
I’m not cute or built to suit
a fashion model’s size
but when I start to tell them,
they think I’m telling lies.
I say,
It’s in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman
phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
that’s me.
I walk into a room
just as cool as you please,
and to a man,
the fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
a hive of honey bees.
I say,
It’s the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I’m a woman
phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
that’s me.
Men themselves have wondered
what they see in me.
They try so much
but they can’t touch
my inner mystery.
When I try to show them
they say they still can’t see.
I say,
It’s in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
that’s me.
Now you understand
just why my head’s not bowed.
I don’t shout or jump about
or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
it ought to make you proud.
I say,
It’s in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
‘Cause I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
that’s me.