Wednesday, March 9, 2016

Preacher, Don't Send Me Comments

Rating: 4.4

Preacher, don't send me
when I die
to some big ghetto
in the sky
...
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Maya Angelou
COMMENTS
Khairul Ahsan 21 September 2020

'I'd call a place pure paradise where families are loyal and strangers are nice' - so simple a want, but truly difficult to find nowadays!

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Mahtab Bangalee 20 September 2020

I'd call a place pure paradise where families are loyal and strangers are nice, where the music is jazz and the season is fall... no need to send the corpse of wise poet to the dark doom where every creature will attack it and make it their livelihood; so reserve it to respect and remember it with honor timely....humanitarian soul needs to stay in royal palace after earthly death! ! Promise me that or nothing at all.

2 0 Reply
Geeta Radhakrishna Menon 20 September 2020

I'd call a place pure paradise where families are loyal and strangers are nice, where the music is jazz....... .A place is paradise only if there is love, music, dance and peace........10

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L Milton Hankins 20 September 2020

Another delightful work by the great Maya Angelou. America lost a treasure when she passed away a few years ago. But, her words continue on and on....

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Savita Tyagi 20 September 2020

Superb! It is so good to read specially when Fall is about to start. What paradise could compete with Fall on Earth.

2 0 Reply

I'd call a place pure paradise where families are loyal and strangers are nice,

1 0 Reply
Luis Estable 20 September 2020

Maya Angelou is being realistic here. She does not want the or the heaven of the preacher. She wants a realistic one and this is seen throughout the poem.

1 0 Reply
Kumarmani Mahakul 20 September 2020

I'd call a place pure paradise where families are loyal and strangers are nice, where the music is jazz and the season is fall. Promise me that or nothing at all......the inscription of paradise is impressively done here. It is one of the best poem of Maya Angelou.

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Edward Kofi Louis 20 September 2020

Prayers before death! For a simple burial. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.

1 0 Reply
Deluke Muwanigwa 20 September 2020

My mother was good at expressing herself. Hmmm....i need that DNA test done PH. Lovely. Thats what i am saying. Do good to all Gods children while you are here on earth. Dont worry about Heaven or its nemesis..when you get there you will find out. Thanks my nice nice mummy

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Dr Antony Theodore 03 January 2020

Preacher, don't send me when I die to some big ghetto in the sky Ghetto. the experience on the earth makes the poetess to write this. tony

1 1 Reply
Anonymous 10 October 2018

OH, and also, Why does everyone have to be so negative these days? (Rhetorical)

2 0 Reply
Anonymous 10 October 2018

Preacher, please don't promise me streets of gold This particular part made me think she was mentioning Heaven, the REAL, heaven. In loving memory of Maya Angelou

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Subhas Chandra Chakra 09 December 2017

I'd call a place pure paradise where families are loyal and strangers are nice, where the music is jazz and the season is fall. wow, nice poem.

5 2 Reply
Rogelio Guillermo 11 October 2017

A nice factual portrayal of what being religious should be

3 4 Reply
Anita Aparajita Das 20 September 2017

poet Maya Angelou #1 on top 500 poets Poet's PagePoemsQuotesCommentsStatsE-BooksBiographyVideosShare on FacebookShare on Twitter Poems by Maya Angelou: 28 / 53 « prev. poem next poem » Preacher, Don't Send Me - Poem by Maya Angelou Preacher, don't send me when I die to some big ghetto in the sky where rats eat cats of the leopard type and Sunday brunch is grits and tripe. I've known those rats I've seen them kill and grits I've had would make a hill, or maybe a mountain, so what I need from you on Sunday is a different creed. Preacher, please don't promise me streets of gold and milk for free. I stopped all milk at four years old and once I'm dead I won't need gold. I'd call a place pure paradise where families are loyal and strangers are nice, where the music is jazz and the season is fall. wow, nice poem.

6 3 Reply
Sabita Sahoo 20 September 2017

I'd call a place pure paradise where families are loyal and strangers are nice, where the music is jazz and the season is fall. Promise me that or nothing at all. A great write.

4 2 Reply
Subhas Chandra Chakra 09 September 2016

Preacher, please don't promise me streets of gold and milk for free. I stopped all milk at four years old and once I'm dead I won't need gold. What a poem based on naked truth of life and society.

14 1 Reply
Mysia Hayling 03 August 2016

very interesting piece indeed.

11 1 Reply
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