Obama surprised me
with his usual suave when it comes to making decisions
he really fucked up in picking Elizabeth Alexander to do his inaugural poem
It was one of the lamest poems that I've ever heard. How she became a professor at Yale is beyond me. It surely wasn't for the quality of her poetry. I heard it fifteen minutes ago and I don't remember a line from it. It reminded me of poems I have seen written by high school girls.
Obama should have gotten emenem to do the poem
Boo! Hiss!--Inaugural Poem
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Lightning Rod
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Lightning Rod
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It's called a 'benediction' at the end. That guy was a poet, yes!
The 'invocation' was at the beginning....it was WAY too long and way too preachy and way too churchy...
just saying... totally inappropriate for a country professing separation of church and state. He even mentioned supporting Israel (of course in whatever biblical sense he was referring to) and given the war that's happening right now? just not cool, in my opinion.
Agreed... Alexander's poem was very weak and her vocalization sucked. They should have invited me instead.
They should have closed the ceremony with Obama's speech.
The 'invocation' was at the beginning....it was WAY too long and way too preachy and way too churchy...
just saying... totally inappropriate for a country professing separation of church and state. He even mentioned supporting Israel (of course in whatever biblical sense he was referring to) and given the war that's happening right now? just not cool, in my opinion.
Agreed... Alexander's poem was very weak and her vocalization sucked. They should have invited me instead.
They should have closed the ceremony with Obama's speech.
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Lightning Rod
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I've never gotten my religious terms down right 
here is an example of a good inaugural poem
Still We Rise
By Maya Angelou
The night has been long,
The wound has been deep,
The pit has been dark,
And the walls have been steep.
Under a dead blue sky on a distant beach,
I was dragged by my braids just beyond your reach.
Your hands were tied, your mouth was bound,
You couldn't even call out my name.
You were helpless and so was I,
But unfortunately throughout history
You've worn a badge of shame.
I say, the night has been long,
The wound has been deep,
The pit has been dark
And the walls have been steep.
But today, voices of old spirit sound
Speak to us in words profound,
Across the years, across the centuries,
Across the oceans, and across the seas.
They say, draw near to one another,
Save your race.
You have been paid for in a distant place,
The old ones remind us that slavery's chains
Have paid for our freedom again and again.
The night has been long,
The pit has been deep,
The night has been dark,
And the walls have been steep.
The hells we have lived through and live through still,
Have sharpened our senses and toughened our will.
The night has been long.
This morning I look through your anguish
Right down to your soul.
I know that with each other we can make ourselves whole.
I look through the posture and past your disguise,
And see your love for family in your big brown eyes.
I say, clap hands and let's come together in this meeting ground,
I say, clap hands and let's deal with each other with love,
I say, clap hands and let us get from the low road of indifference,
Clap hands, let us come together and reveal our hearts,
Let us come together and revise our spirits,
Let us come together and cleanse our souls,
Clap hands, let's leave the preening
And stop impostering our own history.
Clap hands, call the spirits back from the ledge,
Clap hands, let us invite joy into our conversation,
Courtesy into our bedrooms,
Gentleness into our kitchen,
Care into our nursery.
The ancestors remind us, despite the history of pain
We are a going-on people who will rise again.
And still we rise.
here is an example of a good inaugural poem
Still We Rise
By Maya Angelou
The night has been long,
The wound has been deep,
The pit has been dark,
And the walls have been steep.
Under a dead blue sky on a distant beach,
I was dragged by my braids just beyond your reach.
Your hands were tied, your mouth was bound,
You couldn't even call out my name.
You were helpless and so was I,
But unfortunately throughout history
You've worn a badge of shame.
I say, the night has been long,
The wound has been deep,
The pit has been dark
And the walls have been steep.
But today, voices of old spirit sound
Speak to us in words profound,
Across the years, across the centuries,
Across the oceans, and across the seas.
They say, draw near to one another,
Save your race.
You have been paid for in a distant place,
The old ones remind us that slavery's chains
Have paid for our freedom again and again.
The night has been long,
The pit has been deep,
The night has been dark,
And the walls have been steep.
The hells we have lived through and live through still,
Have sharpened our senses and toughened our will.
The night has been long.
This morning I look through your anguish
Right down to your soul.
I know that with each other we can make ourselves whole.
I look through the posture and past your disguise,
And see your love for family in your big brown eyes.
I say, clap hands and let's come together in this meeting ground,
I say, clap hands and let's deal with each other with love,
I say, clap hands and let us get from the low road of indifference,
Clap hands, let us come together and reveal our hearts,
Let us come together and revise our spirits,
Let us come together and cleanse our souls,
Clap hands, let's leave the preening
And stop impostering our own history.
Clap hands, call the spirits back from the ledge,
Clap hands, let us invite joy into our conversation,
Courtesy into our bedrooms,
Gentleness into our kitchen,
Care into our nursery.
The ancestors remind us, despite the history of pain
We are a going-on people who will rise again.
And still we rise.
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Lightning Rod
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and here is Alexander's poem
sure, her delivery was pedestrian but at least the poem was terrible
full of cliches, no metrics
they should have gotten someone from Studio 8
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Praise song for the day.
Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others' eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair.
Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.
A woman and her son wait for the bus.
A farmer considers the changing sky; A teacher says, "Take out your pencils. Begin."
We encounter each other in words, words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed; words to consider, reconsider.
We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, "I need to see what's on the other side; I know there's something better down the road."
We need to find a place where we are safe; We walk into that which we cannot yet see.
Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of.
Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables.
Some live by "Love thy neighbor as thy self."
Others by first do no harm, or take no more than you need.
What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance.
In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun.
On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp -- praise song for walking forward in that light.
sure, her delivery was pedestrian but at least the poem was terrible
full of cliches, no metrics
they should have gotten someone from Studio 8
-----
Praise song for the day.
Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others' eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair.
Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.
A woman and her son wait for the bus.
A farmer considers the changing sky; A teacher says, "Take out your pencils. Begin."
We encounter each other in words, words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed; words to consider, reconsider.
We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, "I need to see what's on the other side; I know there's something better down the road."
We need to find a place where we are safe; We walk into that which we cannot yet see.
Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of.
Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables.
Some live by "Love thy neighbor as thy self."
Others by first do no harm, or take no more than you need.
What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance.
In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun.
On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp -- praise song for walking forward in that light.
maya angelou's "notes to obama"
I agree, LR. I told them I was taking an hour off work from 5pm (my time) until 6 (I finish at 6) to watch the live stream from BBC's news site. Very cool, calm speech by obama, which really gained pace...building and then coming down again... very impressive speech. but that poet?! shit reading, shit poem. I enjoyed listening to the reverand who spoke.I am a poet. What I'm going to say to you now, however, is not a poem, it doesn't pretend to be. These are ruminations or reflections upon the advent of President Barack Obama.
We needed him. We the race needed him. We the American people, we needed him.
Banks, automobile companies, insurance companies needed him. The stock market in Japan and Germany, in France and Britain, in China, in New York City needed him.
And out of that great need, I believe he came. Barack Obama, Senator Barack Obama came.
Intelligent, facing forward, including everyone, excluding no-one. He came with some charm - not enough to make him seem glib.
But what he did is he brought something we cannot live without, and that is hope. He brought the possibility that we might really see ourselves as we really are. A great country.
I believe in the secret part of every heart of an American is the desire to belong to a great country.
I think that President-elect Barack Obama offers us the chance to have a great president with whom we can identify.
Not as a black person, not even as a male, but really as an American citizen who will speak for the voiceless, who will not forget the poor black or the poor white, who will remember the out-of-work Asian and the dislocated Spanish-speaking person.
This is a man who I think I would like to hear speak to people in hospitals, he has intelligence and compassion. Those two elements are not always to be found in the same person.
It is said to whom much is given from them much will be expected. I believe we have been given a great president. I believe he needs us probably more than we even needed him.
I believe that each of us, each American, has got to pay back or pay it forward. I believe each of us has got to do something to help us become more of what James Baldwin called these yet-to-be United States.
I think that each of us can find a place to give some time... I think these seem to be small things but they accumulate. And I do believe that good done anywhere is good done everywhere.
I think that our new president deserves all our help. I believe we Americans, we deserve the most we can get. I believe we are a great people and I believe we will have a chance to show it.
When I see the cabinet President-elect Obama has chosen, I realise he's very serious. He really means to bring together a team who will match the mountain of work - we have men and women in that cabinet who match the mountains.
They may not be all that cunning politically but we've had quite enough of that, I think. They may be more forthcoming, and not a minute too soon.
I know what an American is. You can say it in these three words: Yes I can.
I can be better than you imagine. And if you force me, I can be worse than you can imagine. Yes I can.
In a climate where all men and women are known to be equals, "yes I can" speaks for the brahmin in Boston and the theologian in Nashville, Tennessee. It speaks for the rabbi at the hall of tolerance in Los Angeles and it speaks for the imam in the largest mosque in the United States. It speaks for us all.
source: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/programmes/w ... 838941.stm
I'm still waiting for you, eLRod, or any other Studio 8 poets, to write a better inaugural poem.
I'll volunteer to send it to President Obama for the winner of the S8 Inaugural Poem Contest.
My entry:
Today, the twentieth of January, 2009,
is the day we've all been waiting for
after one of the most expensive and longest
Presidential campaigns in the history of America.
When Barrack Hussein Obama was unanimously elected
the vast majority of our country and indeed the world
was somehow elevated into a new shift of consciousness -
the time and the money were well worth the cost
Many of us had no idea what that meant but
we knew... we had an instinctive feeling
that there is something very special,
a very extraordinary individual with a funny name
that was carrying a light of hope high above the
chaos and turmoil that we've all been thru for so many years
Many of us were at the brink of despair and loss
but here in this one man's hands,
in the confidence and comfort of his voice
Barrack Obama told us that
we the people of our own country
can once again regain the promises of our forefathers -
the same promises that most of us were raised with
but had lost in the shuffle of lies and deceit
of partisan imbalance and distrust of what became
known as 'the other side of the aisle'...
Barack Obama reminds us that we are
One Nation, One People with One Promise -
to make this country once again a land of freedom
for all our people as our Constitution has guaranteed
and our forefathers have fought for and died for
so we can pass it on to our own children and grandchildren -
a country for all people to find their own dreams and freedom
It's not up to this one man, this one President,
but it is up to us - each and every one of us
to find, fight for and keep that torch of liberty
lighted and raised high not only for America
but a powerful symbol for the rest of the world
to know that there is a place where freedom
is the mightiest force that individuals can attain
I'll volunteer to send it to President Obama for the winner of the S8 Inaugural Poem Contest.
My entry:
Today, the twentieth of January, 2009,
is the day we've all been waiting for
after one of the most expensive and longest
Presidential campaigns in the history of America.
When Barrack Hussein Obama was unanimously elected
the vast majority of our country and indeed the world
was somehow elevated into a new shift of consciousness -
the time and the money were well worth the cost
Many of us had no idea what that meant but
we knew... we had an instinctive feeling
that there is something very special,
a very extraordinary individual with a funny name
that was carrying a light of hope high above the
chaos and turmoil that we've all been thru for so many years
Many of us were at the brink of despair and loss
but here in this one man's hands,
in the confidence and comfort of his voice
Barrack Obama told us that
we the people of our own country
can once again regain the promises of our forefathers -
the same promises that most of us were raised with
but had lost in the shuffle of lies and deceit
of partisan imbalance and distrust of what became
known as 'the other side of the aisle'...
Barack Obama reminds us that we are
One Nation, One People with One Promise -
to make this country once again a land of freedom
for all our people as our Constitution has guaranteed
and our forefathers have fought for and died for
so we can pass it on to our own children and grandchildren -
a country for all people to find their own dreams and freedom
It's not up to this one man, this one President,
but it is up to us - each and every one of us
to find, fight for and keep that torch of liberty
lighted and raised high not only for America
but a powerful symbol for the rest of the world
to know that there is a place where freedom
is the mightiest force that individuals can attain
_________________________________
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Allow not destiny to intrude upon Now
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Allow not destiny to intrude upon Now
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Lightning Rod
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I think that this would make a very good political speech, cec
it's very fluid and meaningful
not sure it's a poem though
I didn't get the contract to write the inaugural poem
I probably wouldn't have taken it anyway
since my contract stipulates that I don't perform
in temperatures below 70 degrees
When Frost did the Kennedy gig, he was so cold that he couldn't read his prepared poem, so he substituted one that he had memorized
it's very fluid and meaningful
not sure it's a poem though
I didn't get the contract to write the inaugural poem
I probably wouldn't have taken it anyway
since my contract stipulates that I don't perform
in temperatures below 70 degrees
When Frost did the Kennedy gig, he was so cold that he couldn't read his prepared poem, so he substituted one that he had memorized
inaugural poem... the idea sounds funny!!!!!!! (somehow the oppossite to give a speech in a funeral...!). Well, here we usually not tend to articulate too much words in too emotive moments, I guess! 
I didn´t see the evento on tv yet, but today´s is my dad´s birthday and I´m somehow in charge of the festivities so there will be tv somewhere!. (I´ll tell you later)
and yeah!... best wishes for president Obama, I still like his smile!!!!!!!!!!
I didn´t see the evento on tv yet, but today´s is my dad´s birthday and I´m somehow in charge of the festivities so there will be tv somewhere!. (I´ll tell you later)
and yeah!... best wishes for president Obama, I still like his smile!!!!!!!!!!
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Doreen Peri
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Lightning Rod
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no, I'm not kidding
technically this is not a poem, it is a speech broken into lines
I think it's a good speech but it has none of the ingredients of poetry
Rhythm? No. Rhyme? No. Metrics? No. Imagery? No. Any poetic device at all? No.
This is not a poem. It's a nice piece of writing broken into lines.
But I wouldn't call what Alexander read at the inauguration a poem either.
technically this is not a poem, it is a speech broken into lines
I think it's a good speech but it has none of the ingredients of poetry
Rhythm? No. Rhyme? No. Metrics? No. Imagery? No. Any poetic device at all? No.
This is not a poem. It's a nice piece of writing broken into lines.
But I wouldn't call what Alexander read at the inauguration a poem either.
"But I wouldn't call what Alexander read at the inauguration a poem either."
That's my point, eLRod. A poem is in the eye of the beholder. What sounds poetic may not look poetic but feels poetic makes a poem.
"... it has none of the ingredients of poetry. Rhythm? No. Rhyme? No. Metrics? No. Imagery? No. Any poetic device at all? No. "
Methinks you analyze beyond what is necessary to enjoy a piece of writing that may or may not be considered a poem in your mind. If Ms. Alexander had not been labeled a poet and did not in any way infer that her piece was a poem, the chances are that you would not have been sarcastic towards what she had written for the occasion.
That's my point, eLRod. A poem is in the eye of the beholder. What sounds poetic may not look poetic but feels poetic makes a poem.
"... it has none of the ingredients of poetry. Rhythm? No. Rhyme? No. Metrics? No. Imagery? No. Any poetic device at all? No. "
Methinks you analyze beyond what is necessary to enjoy a piece of writing that may or may not be considered a poem in your mind. If Ms. Alexander had not been labeled a poet and did not in any way infer that her piece was a poem, the chances are that you would not have been sarcastic towards what she had written for the occasion.
_________________________________
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Allow not destiny to intrude upon Now
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Allow not destiny to intrude upon Now
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Lightning Rod
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I wasn't being sarcastic in the least about ms. Alexander's scribbling
I said straightforwardly that I thought it was a lousy poem
she presented herself as a poet, she was introduced as a poet
one would expect her to read a poem, she called it a poem
I called it a terrible poem
where is the sarcasm?
I said straightforwardly that I thought it was a lousy poem
she presented herself as a poet, she was introduced as a poet
one would expect her to read a poem, she called it a poem
I called it a terrible poem
where is the sarcasm?
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