Maya Angelou’s poetry is a force of clarity and courage. Her verses don’t ask permission — they demand to be heard. This contest invites you to write with that same spirit: speak boldly, write rhythmically, and lift your words from the gut, not just the brain. We’re looking for writing that aches, resists, celebrates, remembers, and heals.

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You don’t have to write in meter or rhyme — but your piece should carry a pulse. You don’t have to tell your own story — but your piece should feel lived-in. Whether you write from memory, metaphor, or collective voice, your work should rise from truth and return with power.

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We are not looking for polish or perfection. We are listening for poetry that stands in its truth and refuses to flinch.

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• Speak like no one else can. Your voice matters — not a polished version of it, but the raw one. Don’t edit your voice into silence.

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• Let rhythm carry meaning. Read your work aloud. Does it pause where it should? Build like a wave? End like a full breath? Angelou’s work often rises and falls like music — let yours do the same.

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• Start with one truth. A scar. A lesson. A moment. Let it anchor your piece. Then build upward — like roots rising into a poem.

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• Use images like fists and feathers. Don’t just say “I felt trapped” — describe the room, the chain, the breath that wouldn’t come. Make the abstract concrete. Give emotion shape and texture.

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• Don’t write for sympathy. Write for strength. Even when you write about pain, your tone can still hold power, purpose, and clarity. This isn’t confession — it’s testimony.

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• Embrace your structure. A stanza break, a line on its own, a chorus-like phrase repeated — these are your tools. Use them with intention.

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• Close with something that stays. Angelou’s most powerful poems leave you with a line that hums long after it ends. Think about your final note. What do you want echoing in the reader’s mind?