Andrew has a keen interest in all aspects of poetry and writes extensively on the subject. His poems are published online and in print.

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Maya Angelou And A Summary of On The Pulse Of Morning

On The Pulse Of The Morning is a long, all-encompassing poem that isn't afraid to look back into darker times before pushing on forward into a future full of hope. It has historical elements and philosophical passages and urges everyone to do their best and share the planet wisely.

Although it was written specially for one occasion - Bill Clinton's presidential inauguration in 1993 - it carries a universal message that resonates beyond the United States of America.


"In my work, in everything I do, I mean to say that we human beings are more alike than we are unalike, and to use that statement to break down the walls we set between ourselves because we are different." MA

Inspired by Negro spirituals and other songs, the poem asserts that human beings can change for the better and that, working with Nature (rock, river and tree), learning from the past, and despite differences, great things can be accomplished together.


On The Pulse Of Morning

A Rock, A River, A Tree Hosts to species long since departed, Marked the mastodon.


The dinosaur, who left dry tokens Of their sojourn here On our planet floor, Any broad alarm of their hastening doom Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.

But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully, Come, you may stand upon my Back and face your distant destiny, But seek no haven in my shadow.

I will give you no hiding place down here.

You, created only a little lower than The angels, have crouched too long in The bruising darkness, Have lain too long Face down in ignorance.

Your mouths spilling words Armed for slaughter.

The Rock cries out to us today, you may stand upon me, But do not hide your face.

Across the wall of the world, A River sings a beautiful song, It says come rest here by my side.

Each of you a bordered country, Delicate and strangely made proud, Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.

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Your armed struggles for profit Have left collars of waste upon My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.