• Welcome to Religious Forums, a friendly forum to discuss all religions in a friendly surrounding.

    Your voice is missing! You will need to register to get access to the following site features:
    • Reply to discussions and create your own threads.
    • Our modern chat room. No add-ons or extensions required, just login and start chatting!
    • Access to private conversations with other members.

    We hope to see you as a part of our community soon!

The inauguration poem: Your thoughts

Falvlun

Earthbending Lemur
Premium Member
What did you think of the inauguration poem, by Elizabeth Alexander?

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.
 

Falvlun

Earthbending Lemur
Premium Member
I thought it embodied some of the worst aspects of poetry.

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.

This entire verse is just words; just pretty words trying to sound like something important. The first sentence basically says nothing: we do action (a) or we don't do action (a); this happens twice in one sentence. It repeats itself like a freshman trying to pad the length of his paper: "All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din" Repetion is a tool to use sparingly to drive home a point: this is just a Sunday ramble.

And who has their ancestors on their tongues? What does that actually mean?

I would also like to know which year she is writing for: 1930? Who, except the select few, can truly relate to darning anything, let alone a uniform?

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;"
I am truly admiring of the street musicians, who can create complex music out of little more than a five gallon bucket and a stick. But, I ask you, is it likely a cello would be playing with this group? It is like that game on Sesame St: Three of these things belong together, but one of these things just isn't the same.

A teacher says, "Take out your pencils. Begin."
What, is this teacher administering a test for No Child Left Behind?

We encounter each other in words, words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed; words to consider, reconsider.
Ok, I kinda like this line. Language truly is the great engine of human interaction.

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.
That first bit would be fine on its own or in another poem. I do like the image of roads being someone's path; and the roads beyond are someone else's path- someone who had different ideals and goals.

But...This poem is just all over the place. What is binding it together? It's like she tore out sentences at random and pasted them all together. The next line basically negates what she just said: Before, the roads represented our will and freedom; they are the destination. Now the roads are just ways to get someplace that we may cower in perceived safety.

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.
Sure, say it plain! Your prancing about is rather annoying.

Again, I don't disagree with the sentiment, but it has no connection to that which precedes or follows it.

Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables.
I'm generally a fan of when the title is found nestled within the poem: it is sometimes the poem's highest point, sometimes its most gentle state, sometimes its most profound meaning. There is nothing here: just more words running into more words. Why is the handlettered sign given such a prominent position?

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.
I would assume, Elizabeth, that your suggestion is that we just live by "Love"? It's quite a pretty thing to say, with just as much substance as the beauty contestant wishing for world peace.

"Love with no need to preempt grievance".... Can anyone else translate this line for me? My brain is honestly having issues. "Preempt" can mean "to occupy", "to acquire", "to take the place of", or to "prevent". I don't see how any of these definitions makes the sentence make sense.

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.

Oh, so now you can make a burrito so hot God cannot eat it? Oh, you are talking about sentences? Well, I hate to break it to you, but beginning sentences isn't the hard part. It's getting others to agree with you that presents the trouble.

The last sentence is all right, (ignoring the completely unedifying repetition), particularly if by "that light" she is referencing the "widening pool of light" a couple of lines ago.

-----------

Am I being too harsh? Probably. But it is poetry like this that makes people tune out poetry. It holds nothing for the people; there is no access point.
AND...
Did anyone else hear it delivered? Oh my gosh. I nearly fell asleep watching the computer screen. Where's the emotion? Where's the drive?

Where's the inspiration?
 
Last edited:

Sunstone

De Diablo Del Fora
Premium Member
Am I being too harsh?

On one or two points and in your tone, perhaps a bit harsh -- but what you've said demands to be said because of this:

...it is poetry like this that makes people tune out poetry. It holds nothing for the people; there is no access point.
I can grant we've all written lines -- whole poems sometimes -- that missed their mark. But Alexander seems not to even have a mark. She's shooting at nothing and hits nothing. You've made the case for that.

There is dishonesty in what she's doing. If a craftsman did shoddy work and called it "done to standards" we would call that craftsman a cheat. Alexander effectively claims she has created a poem, but has produced nothing of the sort. Is she any less a cheat than a dishonest craftsman?

Last point: We seem to live in an age of industrial BS. If a poet is unwilling to value hitching words to facts and truths, then isn't that poet in some sense just as decadent as the public relations industry? Just another BS artist?
 
Last edited:

YmirGF

Bodhisattva in Recovery
The inauguration poem: Your thoughts

In my opinion her poem was a dreadful piece of writing. Hopefully work like this is not the herald of new levels of banality, quietly encouraged by the Obama Administration. “Yes, we can” may have the potential of morphing into “Must we?”

I can grant we've all written lines -- whole poems sometimes -- that missed their mark.
Agreed, and I am as guilty as the next person, but for the most part, when I read "modern" poetry, I am often puzzled why the writer even bothered.
 

Sunstone

De Diablo Del Fora
Premium Member
doppelgänger;1406680 said:
I rather like the phrase "our ancestors on our tongues." The poem is rather poor overall though.

It's a nice phrase, and it could be loaded with meaning, but I think in its context in the poem it is almost drained pale of meaning. On the other hand, maybe Alexander is suggesting something that has simply gone over my head.
 

doppelganger

Through the Looking Glass
Not that it's my place to criticize really. As anyone whose read one of my poems knows, every time I write poetry, God kills a kitten.
 

Sunstone

De Diablo Del Fora
Premium Member
doppelgänger;1406697 said:
Perhaps all about you is noise and bramble and thorn and din. And for heaven's sake, get your tongue away from your ancestors. That's disgusting!

Methinks your lines serve better then Alexander's originals.
 

Falvlun

Earthbending Lemur
Premium Member
On one or two points and in your tone, perhaps a bit harsh
Agreed. It had been broiling for a while and I was annoyed, though I didn't need to be so nasty.

But it was fun. :D

I can grant we've all written lines -- whole poems sometimes -- that missed their mark. But Alexander seems not to even have a mark. She's shooting at nothing and hits nothing. You've made the case for that.
Brilliant! You got right to the crux of the matter: there isn't even a mark.

And you are right; I've certainly written poems that really don't say anything once you boil it all down.

There is dishonesty in what she's doing. If a craftsman did shoddy work and called it "done to standards" we would call that craftsman a cheat. Alexander effectively claims she has created a poem, but has produced nothing of the sort. Is she any less a cheat than a dishonest craftsman?
The problem-- and greatness-- about poetry is that basically anything can be called a poem if one wishes to see it in that light. So, I don't know if I'd go so far as to say that this wasn't a poem at all. It was, like you say, shoddy craftsmanship.

Last point: We seem to live in an age of industrial BS. If a poet is unwilling to value hitching words to facts and truths, then isn't that poet in some sense just as decadent as the public relations industry? Just another BS artist?
Exactly!! That is my biggest beef with poetry, or rather, the sure-fire thing that will make me not like a certain poem: the divorcing of words from reality, just to make a pretty thing.

wheresmynotecard said:
:D No need to make my answer really long... I think I just about said what needed to be said.
Overkill is my biggest weakness in writing. KISS-- Keep It Simple, Stupid-- has always been my mantra: always desired and always just out of reach. :D
 
Last edited:

Falvlun

Earthbending Lemur
Premium Member
Elizabeth Alexander said:
We encounter each other in words...
I like that phrase. There's truth in it.
It was my favorite line for precisely that reason.
Watchmen said:
It was too obvious, IMO.
Interesting. What do you actually mean by that? I think my problem was that it was too esoteric (when taken as a whole).
Sunstone said:
doppleganger said:
I rather like the phrase "our ancestors on our tongues." The poem is rather poor overall though.


It's a nice phrase, and it could be loaded with meaning, but I think in its context in the poem it is almost drained pale of meaning. On the other hand, maybe Alexander is suggesting something that has simply gone over my head.
At the time it only struck me as incongruent, but I see what you both are saying.
Taken by itself, it actually reminds me of your poem, Sunstone: Throw Your Rockets Far. In a way, we are a conglomerate of our ancestors, and our thoughts and actions and instincts are very much built upon what came before.

Sunstone said:
doppelganger said:
Well, that's a pretty low threshold actually. So I don't fault her for that. :D
I don't get your meaning.
Oh, that's too funny. He made a joke about things going over your head, that went over your head.
doppelganger said:
Not that it's my place to criticize really. As anyone whose read one of my poems knows, every time I write poetry, God kills a kitten.
Hehe. I know the feeling, like "He who is without sin, cast the first stone!"

Though, I would like to see your kitten-killing poetry... :D
 
Top