News &Poetry Entropy | 21 Dec 2008
Poet Chosen for Barack Obama’s Inauguration
Poet Chosen for Inauguration Is Aiming for a Work That Transcends the Moment.
Barack Obama has commissioned Elizabeth Alexander to compose and read a poem for his inauguration, making her only the fourth poet in American history to read at one.
This heart warming news in N.Y.Times led me to explore about her and I share her two wonderful poems..
Passage from her poem -Neonatology
Giving birth is like jazz, something from silence,
then all of it. Long, elegant boats,
blood-boiling sunshine, human cargo,
a hand-made kite —
Post-partum.
No longer a celebrity, pregnant lady, expectant.
It has happened; you are here,
each dram you drain a step away
from flushed and floating, lush and curled.
Now you are the pink one, the movie star.
It has happened. You are here,
and you sing, mewl, holler, peep,
swallow the light and bubble it back,
shine, contain multitudes, gleam. You
are the new one, the movie star,
and birth is like jazz,
from silence and blood, silence
then everything,
jazz.
Ars Poetica – I Believe
Poetry, I tell my students,
is idiosyncratic. Poetry
is where we are ourselves,
(though Sterling Brown said
“Every ‘I’ is a dramatic ‘I’”)
digging in the clam flats
for the shell that snaps,
emptying the proverbial pocketbook.
Poetry is what you find
in the dirt in the corner,
overhear on the bus, God
in the details, the only way
to get from here to there.
Poetry (and now my voice is rising)
is not all love, love, love,
and I’m sorry the dog died.
Poetry (here I hear myself loudest)
is the human voice,
and are we not of interest to each other?
on 21 Dec 2008 at 6:39 pm 1.Barbary Chaapel said …
Well chosen, a woman who writes honestly from her heart.
on 22 Dec 2008 at 8:48 am 2.Sonya Rose said …
This afternoon, one of my best friend called … and cried and cried and cried. I had no idea what had happened. My body shivered in fear, expecting the absolute worst. His 13 year old dog had died. Then, I read your post, poetry by Elizabeth Alexander and the last lines of “Ars Poetica – I Believe”:
Poetry (and now my voice is rising)
is not all love, love, love,
and I’m sorry the dog died.
The strange part of it all was last night’s dream. A large graying dog came running to me to say something and then, went on its way with a group of people down a long lit hall. Coincidence? Maybe so. Or maybe, dogs really go to heaven.
Barack Obama chose a wonderful poet. I really enjoy Ms. Alexander’s poetry very much.
Thanks for taking the time out to share with all of us who are listening…
We are all connected to each other somehow in this big world-wide web.
Peace & Blessings,
Sonya Rose