Insomniac
																											
																											
			
			sleep plays coy,
																											aloof and disdainful.
																											And all the wiles
																											that I employ to win
																											its service to my side
																											are useless as wounded pride,
																											and much more painful.
																											
																											Maya Angelou 
			
																											 
																											 
																											 
																											
			
			
			
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
																											
																											The free bird leaps
																											on the back of the win
																											and floats downstream
																											till the current ends
																											and dips his wings
																											in the orange sun rays
																											and dares to claim the sky.
																											
																											But a bird that stalks
																											down his narrow cage
																											can seldom see through
																											his bars of rage
																											his wings are clipped and
																											his feet are tied
																											so he opens his throat to sing.
																											
																											The caged bird sings
																											with fearful trill
																											of the things unknown
																											but longed for still
																											and is tune is heard
																											on the distant hillfor the caged bird
																											sings of freedom
																											
																											The free bird thinks of another breeze
																											an the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
																											and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
																											and he names the sky his own.
																											
																											But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
																											his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
																											his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
																											so he opens his throat to sing
																											
																											The caged bird sings
																											with a fearful trill
																											of things unknown
																											but longed for still
																											and his tune is heard
																											on the distant hill
																											for the caged bird
																											sings of freedom.
																											
																											Maya Angelou 
																											
			
																											 
																											 
																											
			
			
																											
More poems by Maya Angelou