R.I.P. Lucille Clifton

Award-winning poet Lucille Clifton has died at the age of 73. I was in graduate school working, writing and performing with the June Jordan Poetry for the People program when I fell in love with Clifton’s poetry. Here, Clifton reads her poem, “Homage To My Hips,” one of my favorites.  



  1. Sorry to hear about her passing. I love the poem you posted — I remember reading it in college and thinking I wanted it to be my mantra.

    This Clifton poem is my personal favorite:

    i beg my bones to be good but
    they keep clicking music and
    i spin in the center of myself
    a foolish frightful woman
    moving my skin against the wind and
    tap dancing for my life.

  2. Thanks for sharing Amber. Here’s another one that I love:

    won’t you celebrate with me


    won’t you celebrate with me
    what i have shaped into
    a kind of life? i had no model.
    born in babylon
    both nonwhite and woman
    what did i see to be except myself?
    i made it up
    here on this bridge between
    starshine and clay,
    my one hand holding tight
    my other hand; come celebrate
    with me that everyday
    something has tried to kill me
    and has failed.

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