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The theme of this poem is racism. This poem was written during the time when racism was a major problem. In this poem, the "caged bird" (1) is the African American people like herself who do not have freedom. The "free birds" (1) being the white Americans who do have freedom. The poem shows the effects of racism and gives the black race, who have suffered from these issues, hopes. When the author wrote "his wings are clipped and / his feet are tied/so he opens his throat to sing" (1), this is historical because African Americans who sought freedom would sing and make music. (4) At the middle and end of this poem, Angelou writes "The caged bird sings/ with a fearful trill." (1) This quote is very important because it shows how the African Americans are fearful with dead dreams, but they still sing/have hope. In "Caged Bird" the third stanza is the last stanza, there is rhyming in stanzas two, three, four, and five, and the number of lines in each stanza vary from seven to eight.

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The theme of this poem is the idea that all of mankind are equal and that we are more alike than we are unalike. This poem was written in 1993 for the inauguration ceremony of President Bill Clinton. In the beginning of the poem it states "A Rock, A River, A Tree/ Hosts to species long since departed"(2). This quote is elaborating on the idea that all three things serve the same purpose they just have different properties. So why treat them differently if they're all the same? Angelou continues this investigation of social patterns of discrimination by saying "Each of you a bordered country,/ Delicate and strangely made proud,/ Yet thrusting perpetually under siege"(2). People close themselves off to differences and those who do that do not even realize the things they have in common Instead, they act cruelly towards each other. Angelou also mentions her religious views of Christianity and unity (4) by saying "Come, clad in peace and I will sing the songs/ The Creator gave me when I/ And the tree and stone were one"(2). The structure of the poem seems to be a free verse which is something that does not follow any rules. It is almost like a stream of consciousness. Maya Angelou uses a lot of listing throughout this poem especially when she names a variety of different ethnic groups and religions to emphasize the idea that differences are merely aspects that should never be barriers between people.

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Personification:  when a nonhuman object is given human characteristics
example: "But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully"(2) The author uses personification to compare nature to the oppression of society.

Anachronism: something located at a time when it could not have existed
example: "The dinosaur, who left dry tokens"(2) Tokens could not have existed in the time period that dinosaurs exist.

Metaphor: a comparison between two unlike things without using "like" or "as"
example: "Your armed struggles for profit/ Have left collars of waste upon/ My shore, currents of debris upon my breast."(2) The author compares herself to a beach who has rubbish thrown upon her to emphasize the fact that so many people try to bring her down

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1.          Angelou, Maya. "Caged Bird." Poetry Foundation. Poetry Foundation, n.d. Web. 05 Apr. 2017.
2.          Angelou, Maya. "From On the Pulse of Morning." Poetry Foundation. Poetry Foundation, n.d. Web. 05 Apr. 2017.
3.          "Maya Angelou." Poets.org. Academy of American Poets, 05 Aug. 2016. Web. 05 Apr. 2017.
4.          "Maya Angelou’s Religion and Political Views." The Hollowverse. N.p., n.d. Web. 07 Apr. 2017.

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metaphor: a comparison between two unlike things without using "like" or "as"
example: "Caged bird" (1), the caged bird represents those who don't have freedom

personification: when a nonhuman object is given human characteristics
example: "his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream" (1), the shadow being nonhuman, shouts, which is a human characteristic

alliteration: the repetition of initial consonant sounds of several words in a group
example: "his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream" (1) shadow, shouts, and scream all start with an "s" and are all in the same line

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Maya Angelou was born on April 4, 1928 in St. Louis, Missouri where she grew up, as well as Stamps, Arkansas. She had a short career as a singer, dancer, actress, composer, and Hollywood's first female black director, but is most famous as a writer, editor, essayist, playwright, and poet. In 1959, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. requested that Angelou work with him because she was a  civil rights activist and she accepted. She was also an educator and served as the Reynolds professor of American Studies at Wake Forest University. After, she became an associate editor of The Arab Observer in Cairo, Egypt (the only English-language news weekly in the Middle East) from 1961 to 1962. In Accra, Ghana from 1964 to 1966, she was feature editor of the African Review. In 1974, she came back to the United States where she was then nominated to the Bicentennial Commission and later to the Commission for International Woman of the Year. At President Bill Clintons request, Angelou wrote and delivered a poem, “On The Pulse of the Morning," in 1993. She received the National Medal of Arts by President Bill Clinton in 2000. In 2010 she was awarded by President Barack Obama the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the highest civilian honor in the U.S. She was awarded over 50 honorary degrees. Maya Angelou was the first black woman director in Hollywood were she wrote, produced, directed, and starred in productions for stage, film, and television. She wrote the original screenplay and musical score for the film Georgia, Georgia in 1971. She also wrote and was an executive producer for a five-part television miniseries.  She wrote and produced several successful and award winning documentaries. Maya Angelou was nominated twice for a Tony award for acting. As shown above, Angelou was a very successful woman. Sadly, she died on May 28, 2014  in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, at 86. (all from source 3)

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A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since departed,
Mark the mastodon.
The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
Of their sojourn here
On our planet floor,
Any broad alarm of their 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 spelling words
Armed for slaughter.
The rock cries out today, you may stand on me,
But do not hide your face.
Across the wall of the world,
A river sings a beautiful song,
Come rest here by my side.
Each of you a bordered country,
Delicate and strangely made proud,
Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.
Your armed struggles for profit
Have left collars of waste upon
My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.
Yet, today I call you to my riverside,
If you will study war no more.
Come, clad in peace and I will sing the songs
The Creator gave to me when I
And the tree and stone were one.
Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your brow
And when you yet knew you still knew nothing.
The river sings and sings on.
There is a true yearning to respond to
The singing river and the wise rock.
So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew,
The African and Native American, the Sioux,
The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek,
The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,
The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,
The privileged, the homeless, the teacher.
They hear. They all hear
The speaking of the tree.
Today, the first and last of every tree
Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the river.
Plant yourself beside me, here beside the river.
Each of you, descendant of some passed on
Traveler, has been paid for.
You, who gave me my first name,
You Pawnee, Apache and Seneca,
You Cherokee Nation, who rested with me,
Then forced on bloody feet,
Left me to the employment of other seekers-
Desperate for gain, starving for gold.
You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot...
You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru,
Bought, sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare
Praying for a dream.
Here, root yourselves beside me.
I am the tree planted by the river,
Which will not be moved.
I, the rock, I the river, I the tree
I am yours- your passages have been paid.
Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.
History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, and if faced with courage,
Need not be lived again.
Lift up your eyes upon
The day breaking for you.
Give birth again
To the dream.
Women, children, men,
Take it into the palms of your hands.
Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need. Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts.
Each new hour holds new chances
For new beginnings.
Do not be wedded forever
To fear, yoked eternally
To brutishness.
The horizon leans forward,
Offering you space to place new steps of change.
Here, on the pulse of this fine day
You may have the courage
To look up and out upon me,
The rock, the river, the tree, your country.
No less to Midas than the mendicant.
No less to you now than the mastodon then.
Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister's eyes,
Into your brother's face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning.

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The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
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 his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and 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.