
It started in 2003, with a refused invitation.
February 12, 2003 was supposed to have been a symposium at the White House on "Poetry and the American Voice," featuring the works of Langston Hughes, Emily Dickinson, and Walt Whitman. Poet and pacifist Sam Hamill decided he could not in good conscience attend. Instead of simply declining politely and quietly, he emailed about fifty other poets, asking them to send him an anti-war poem and to sign on to a project "Poets Against War," echoing an earlier group railing against an earlier war – Vietnam. The poems, he said, would be sent to the White House.
Within days, he had not fifty but fifteen hundred positive responses.
Laura Bush and her political advisors, seeing the writing on the wall, postponed the event, saying it had been turned from a literary event into a political one. Roger Sutton, writing in The Horn Book Magazine, a magazine that reviews and discusses books published for children and young adults, said in March 2003,
Mrs. Bush — oddly for a librarian — seems not to remember that poets are troublemakers. Surely she hasn’t forgotten her Roald Dahl, Shel Silverstein, and Eve Merriam so quickly. Making trouble is part of the job description. Through stealth and surprise, poems change the way we think. To invite a bunch of poets to come to the White House and talk about Hughes, Dickinson, and Whitman is, quite literally and in the best of ways, asking for trouble.
In other words, don't mess with the poets.
Poets Against War has grown into a powerful website, with a fuller account of this story and the subsequent actions of the anti-war community of poets. They have received over 22,000 poems, a fair sampling of which they post to the site on a regular basis. There are poems by folks you've heard of, and poems by otherwise unknown writers. There are links galore, and oppotunities to get involved yourself. There is a quarterly newsletter of articles – the current issue has a great piece by Sarah Zale on Poetry and Peace in the Middle East, which fits nicely with Adrienne Rich's Poetry and Commitment.
Speaking of Adrienne Rich, in an older essay on poetry she says that
Poetry . . . begins in this way: the crossing of trajectories of two (or more) elements that might otherwise not have known simultaneity. When this happens, a piece of the universe is revealed as if for the first time. (What Is Found There, NY: WW Norton, 1993, p. 8)
Part of what drew me and kept me coming back to FDL is the powerful, poetic writing found here, in the words of frontpagers and commenters alike. People, events, and other things come together here that "might otherwise not have known simultaneity," to borrow from Rich. I never cease to come away from here changed by what I've read – sometimes in ways I recognize, and other times in ways that only belatedly make themselves known.
Go poke around the PAW website, and see if you don't recognize some kindred spirits. Here's one sample, to whet your appetite. It comes from the pen of San Francisco's own poet laureate, Lawrence Ferlinghetti.
And a vast paranoia sweeps across the land
And America turns the attack on its Twin Towers
Into the beginning of the Third World War
The war with the Third WorldAnd the terrorists in Washington
Are drafting all the young menAnd no one speaks
And they are rousting out
All the ones with turbans
And they are flushing out
All the strange immigrantsAnd they are shipping all the young men
To the killing fields againAnd no one speaks
And when they come to round up
All the great writers and poets and painters
The National Endowment of the Arts of Complacency
Will not speakWhile all the young men
Will be killing all the young men
In the killing fields againSo now is the time for you to speak
All you lovers of liberty
All you lovers of the pursuit of happiness
All you lovers and sleepers
Deep in your private dreamsNow is the time for you to speak
O silent majority
Before they come for you
That, I think, is why many of us are here at Firedoglake: to see the world not through the lenses of paranoia, but through clear eyes, and to learn to speak and act fearlessly despite a national atmosphere of fear.
This is a poetic place, filled with words and images and emotion and compassion and hope that comes bubbling out of a thousand sets of fingers.
Let's face it: this is a powerful place, filled with poetic lovers of liberty. And we're speaking up, along with thousands of others. The House of Representatives is listening, as today they have begun taking up the resolution opposing the escalation of troops in Iraq, and that's apparently only the first step. From the Washington Post this morning:
Waiting in the wings is binding legislation that would fully fund Bush's $100 billion request for the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan but add four conditions: Soldiers and Marines could be deployed to Iraq only after being certified as fully trained and equipped. National Guardsmen and reservists could be subject to no more than two deployments, or roughly 12 months of combat duty. The administration could use none of the money for permanent bases in Iraq. And additional funding for the National Guard and reserves must be spent to retool operations at home, such as emergency response.
Don't mess with the poets.
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Fitz!
I am glad the poets stuck up for their beliefs. My guess is that Laura Bush was never a fan of poets. If she is anything like her husband, she didn’t read many books in the library, much less poetry.
And don’t forget, Laura, Hughes, Dickinson and Whitman are all gay!
Ah, yes, the poets. Forget us not.
– Shakespeare, King John
ILJH (1) —
Now if I could just squeeze that into haiku…
Laura should have read some of the books before she shelved them. It would have been a shame to spoil two houses so it’s lucky she and Jorge found each other.
Ah poets. Would I were one. I cannot say which kind of poetry is my favorite part, but Haiku places next to my heart. And as for out of sync iambic? Does it get any better? As to Laura? I think I shall never see… a poem… intellectually… as unlovely as thee.
Haha, you’d think Laura would’ve learned by now. In 2005 one of my favorite poets, Sharon Olds, turned down an invitation to the The national Book Festival with the following letter to Laura Bush:
“But I could not face the idea of breaking bread with you. I knew that if I sat down to eat with you, it would feel to me as if I were condoning what I see to be the wild, highhanded actions of the Bush Administration. … So many Americans who had felt pride in our country now feel anguish and shame, for the current regime of blood, wounds and fire. I thought of the clean linens at your table, the shining knives and the flames of the candles, and I could not stomach it.”
Oklahoma kiddo @ 7
I think of you as a poet, or perhaps a Zen master. You sow koans into our threads.
I am glad the poets stuck up for their beliefs. My guess is that Laura Bush was never a fan of poets. If she is anything like her husband, she didn’t read many books in the library, much less poetry.
————–
Oh,I think she read “How to Kill Your Boyfriend and Make it Look Like a Traffic Accident”.
Well said, Peterr.
there once was a first lady named bush
hmmm
George Carlin is The Modern Man Link
Those four conditions that are waiting in the wings for Bush’s war funding request are a big slap in the face to the administration.
No sending folks who aren’t ready and equipped – because that’s what’s being done now. It gets folks killed, and dooms the mission (whatever it is this week) for failure.
No third deployments for Guard and reserve – because that’s being done now. It puts the other missions of the Guard in jeopardy, and defeats the purpose of having a “reserve.” If they’re all being used, all the time, it’s hardly a reserve now, is it?
No permanent bases – because whether it’s true that we’ve been planning that or not, it’s what’s assumed to be happening by the Iraqis and other residents of the middle east. Saying “no bases” loudly removes a huge recruiting tool for those upset with our presence.
Resupply and equip the Guard for their stateside duties – because their work in Iraq has depleted what they need to do their work here.
Four slaps, right in the face – one for Bush, one for Cheney, one for Gates, and one for Condi. It’s a four stanza poem, crafted by some poetic staffer in the House.
Who’s next?
For many years now it’s been a sign of the sad state of American culture that poets are largely viewed as irrelevant by the powers of the state.
Poets are merely ignored here.
In other countries, totalitarians and totalitarian wannabes take very strong measures against poets.
We saw that in the Soviet Union, for instance. Poets who were not allowed to publish had huge followings — their privately copied and hidden manuscripts were passed around from hand to hand until the pages fell apart — were seriously persecuted by the state.
They knew the power of poetry to subvert dictatorships and to inflame the heart of the reader with revolutionary hope.
Peterr–this post is lovely, in the fullest sense. Like you, I cherish the poetic sensibility at the Lake in all its variety.
OOh, ooh! WaPo article on the Iraq resolution that’s being debated, but look at the Who’s Blogging box!
The Resolution itself has the simplicity of poetry, though. If I knew how, I would set it to music.
a snippet from my “Ode to the Dukester” (based on the Randy Cunningham saga):
in pajama pants and turtleneck
I cut a dashing figure
lava lamps, champagne on ice
the mood? one of intrigue: grrrr!
Appropriate thoughts, peterr. here’s TS Eliot — Waste Land (43)
A rat crept softly through the vegetation
Dragging its slimy belly on the bank
While I was fishing on the dull canal
On a winter evening round behind the gashouse
Musing upon the king my brother’s wreck
And on the king my father’s death before him.
White bodies naked on a low damp ground.
Oh — and thank you ever so much, Peterr! I’m especially grateful for the Ferlinghetti gem.
I fell in love with Ferlinghetti’s poetry (my copy of “A Coney Island of the Mind” was worn ragged) when I was fourteen.
perris @
12
who couldn’t help showing her tush…
perris @ 12
I can’t resist. “… a first lady who sat on her tush”.
Very well said.
and here’s Adam Green — 8 Pages for Allah
Chief Bagelheart slouches between his two wives (sisters)
He is of medium height, broad-shouldered and deep chested
A bagel neclace strung across his tits
He speaks frankly with his doctor
Ms. President enters the wigwam at the side door
Bagelheart rolls by in a hospital bed
Farmer Dave peers out from his rectum across the operating table
Dr. America performs the scalp dance
HotFlash @ 9
Many have said I am “independant of reason”. ;0)
REMINDER:
PBS Frontline TONIGHT – “News War: Secrets, Sources & Spin”
TPM Cafe’s “election central” has video clips of some of the Iraq resolution speeches up, and atrios has Jerry Nadler’s text up at his place. A taste:
Indeed.
I Love Jane Hamsher @ 2
The idea of these enemies of public education hosting a poetry reading is beyond the pale. The poets did the right thing. I remember when this happened, I’d thought Little Laura was receiving advice from Suegra Bushtoad.
BTW, Rove message alert: Since President’s Day is coming up, Dubya is reading about Lincoln again.
Yeah, right. First, Dubya doesn’t read, then he does. They got it correct the first time. Anyone who believes that Dubya reads anything that is more verbose than a comic strip is delusional. They had to make a video for him to even consider comprehending the Katrina disaster.
Now here’s a poem:
Literacy, literature
And all of the arts
should be off limits
to these m*therf*ckers
from hell
there once was a first lady named bush
who couldn’t help showing her tush
said the poets, “No War!”
bush’s tush hit the floor
as she slammed the door with a whoosh…
Many are to blame for the Iraq War. And many will be faulted for an attack on Iran. Something must be done.
A few weeks ago, after catching the movie Hair on cable I wanted to know the origin of the most jarring song, Three-Five-Zero-Zero. Turns out it was taken from part of Alan Ginsberg’s “Wichita Vortex Sutra” (link to full poem), a very strong anti-Vietnam poem. The number refers to the official Pentagon Viet Cong daily body count, to show “victory” in the Vietnam War.
Poets are thinkers, of course they’re going to have strong opinions about what’s going on. Apparently thinking is bad within the Bush GOP circle.
Obviously that should be “independent”. What a goof I be.
Another poet laureate, Robert Pinsky, sent this response to the invitation to Laura’s conference:
Sharp, to the point, and done with a clarity of thought and expression that skewers the Bush administration neatly between the eyes.
I’ll say it again: don’t mess with the poets!
I have been accused a time or two of believing the impossible. I still cling to the idea of justice though.
My throat has more culture than Pickles Bush.
-GSD
Talk, talk, talk. The pols talk and people die in the Middle East and we move ever closer to world catastrophe. It’s all so very frustrating. Am I without patience?
Song of Napalm (excerpt)
“But the lie swings back again.
The lie works only as long as it takes to speak
and the girl runs only as far
as the napalm allows
until her burning tendons and crackling
muscles draw her up
into that final position
burning bodies so perfectly assume. Nothing
can change that, she is burned behind my eyes
and not your good love and not the rain-swept air
and not the jungle-green
pasture unfolding before us can deny it.”
everhopeful at 27 — Thanks much for the reminder on the Frontline documentary. I’ve seen some excerpts from the series and it looks amazing. Hope everyone can watch it — because I’m looking forward to discussing it over he course of the viewing.
TRex @ 24
Many thanks.
As I read Ferlinghetti’s poem, I immediately heard lots of the voices of Firepups echoing in my head, including yours.
GSD @ 34
LOL!!!!
Thanks for the hearty laugh you gave me!
Or as my sister (who picked up this saying when she was in high school in the fifties) would say:
“Her taste is all in her mouth.”
Politicians tamper with the poets and mess with the muse at their peril.
Rayne @ 5
Let us face it, y’all.
Miss Pickles ain’t read nothin’
‘Cept baid piller tags.
This one is from Friendly Rich (Rich Marsella) of Canada, called Friendly Fire.
Arianna is doing a pillory Hillary thing again today. This woman Arianna, not only hits a home run each time she’s up at bat, she drives in three bases-are-loaded runs. Amazing.
In 1973, when the Vietnam War ended, beat poet Bob Kaufman ended a 10 year period of silence (which he started upon learning of the death of John F. Kennedy)with the following:
BlueAmerica helped put Patrick Murphy in Congress, and this is why:
Atrios has the rest of the speech.
Poets use few words and speak truth.
Definitely not DC culture.
At the risk of breaking (or is it fulfilling?) Godwin’s law:
I understand now how the “good” people in Germany could go on with their routines while the Nazis took over. And it isn’t because good people say nothing while evil people do their dirty deeds.
Good people are saying everything they can say, speaking out in every forum, from the floor of the Senate and the House to the ballrooms where artists hold their award ceremonies.
Everyone is saying, screaming everything that needs to be said. Everyone agrees that Cindy Sheehan is right.
It’s not a failure to speak out. It is a failure to be as brutal, as relentless, and as unswerving as evil.
Poetry and nonbinding resolutions are not enough. The evildoers must be removed from power to save our country, and maybe the world, today. And they must be thrown in prison to set the example to the future.
My thanks to the mods for freeing my obviously a bit too long excerpt of Patrick Murphy’s floor speech at 3:24.
(If you don’t see it, reload the whole page.)
Arianna calls the Hill’s justification for her vote on the Iraq attack “PTJS (Post Traumatic Justification Syndrome).” Talk about poetic license. I love it.
puppethead — damn, I haven’t thought of that song for a while. One more thing that made me the Dem I am: my mother playing the soundtrack to Hair on her 8-track. I knew all the words by heart, and I knew what three-five-zero-zero meant. It was on the evening news every night over Cronkite’s shoulder, more or less. Mostly more.
barbara (43) — brava!! Bet there’s another “stanza” in haiku if we tackled Pickles’ happy juice or pills…
I’ll be brief. Cindy Sheehan!
To become part of the Bush family, it is necessary to cloud ones mind.
I vant to keese Peeckles Boosh’s belly.
-Vladimir Putin
Newer BushCo: okay, you–and Gen Pace–didn’t believe the one about Iran supplying Iraq. How about this card… Muqtada al Sadr left because of the surge?
Americans have not only lost faith in President Bush, Pelosi says, and we say, Amen.
The truth is not in him. Nor his administration. Delusions only.
GSD @ 55
That’s nasty. ;0)
This is the war poem that always gets me (almost to tears):
The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner
by Randall Jarrell
From my mother’s sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.
Is this old news?
http://www.usnews.com/usnews/n…..3libby.htm
puppethead @32
you have to have insight to understand/appreciate good poetry, is a part of the intimate interaction that takes place between poet and reader………i don’t think insight is a commodity in their circles. and i don’t think that intimacy is around either, that takes trust, so, intimacy and trust not a commodity in their circles, either…….
Prairie Sunshine @ 56
Plus, he is illiterate.
Braco, Poets for freedom!
Now up the bloodless, VELVET REVOLUTION!
Badwater @ 54
“I really don’t know clouds at all.” Joni Mitchell, I believe. ;0)
Rayne @ 4
Peterr at 47:
Peterr, oh, he’s good! He’s exactly what we need.
Christy Hardin Smith @ 36
Christy,
Not sure if you saw a notice I put up yesterday that the Frontline preview page online selected your The Public’s Dilemma post under their Read What Others Are Saying section.
I see the program is on at 10 pm EST, same time as Boston Legal. Going to have to tape one of them.
I want action on Iraq and Iran Democrats. F’k the talk.
Speaking of poetry, Rep. Jim Moran just quoted Rudyard Kipling on the floor of the House:
“When they ask you why we died
Tell them that the old men lied.”
As tough to read now as I’m sure it was @ the time of The Great War for which it was written:
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori- Wilfred Owen
Wiki points out that “Owen died almost to the hour one week before the signing of the armistice. His mother received the news on Armistice Day, to the noise of church bells tolling in celebration.”
47 ??
words fail
hackworth @ 61
I read the book Hamill put out Poets Against the War and gave it to someone else to read and forgot about it. I wish I’d known about a website carrying it on…kind of like just discovering John Prine last week, I wonder what blinders I’ve had over my eyes.
At least some of the young men want to go to war, as shown in this article in Esquire
I think many of the young men in Iraq feel just the same way, maybe more so, all testestone-poisoned, with no real life. War, especially war fueled by religious righteousness, must seem like a reasonable alternative to their miserable lives.
Blank Kludge @
59
Wow, way to go FDL!
masaccio @ 72
In the fossil record, there is a not-so-strange biased representation of adolescent and postadolescent males across many species. You can always find some young men willing to do any stupid, hormone-driven thing. They think it’ll get them laid when it’ll only get them killed.
There once was a first lady named Bush
who thought political artists should shush
when her husband was jailed
she could not make his bail
and now a lovely corn broom she must push
A delightful old crone name of Cheney
wrote western potboilers somewhat zany
Her characters kiss and they wink
and no trace of a dink
calls for beards like Ayatollah Khomeini
;>)
EvilDrPuma @ 70
Sad, isn’t it?
Although when it’s NOT war or other conflict which the young testosterone-driven get themselves wounded or killed over, it’s often the subject of jokes.
Around our house, we often repeat the Click-and-Clack joke about guys doing stupid stuff in the Darwin Award tradition — it’s usually preceded by someone saying, “Hey guys, watch THIS!”
There was a staff chief name of Libby
Who told a grand jury a fibby…
Mrs. K8 @ 75
“Hey guys, watch this!”–Redneck Last Words.
Digby up top! and smokin’!
TRex @ 24
The KKK Took My Baby Away.
Poetry? I say yes!
Peterr @
28
Aye, ’twas true at the time, and they knew it,
All them criminals lied to push Congress through it,
Too few skeptics aligned with Feingold and Denny K,
Too few citizens screamed for them to indicate
Just what was their proof, what the analysts said.
Now three thousands of our boys are lyin’ dead.
Too late for them boys, and too late for them girls,
Too late for their spouse’s hearts, this side of the world.
Where were the challenges, where were the fighters,
To resist lemminghood, to battle the insiders -
Who lied, terribly lied, horribly lied to us all?
And who cries for the maimed, who’ve given their all,
And taken the fall, and must live with it all
Of their lives? Shouldn’t we all
Be cryin’?
What second-guessing there’ll be for us all,
What should we have done? What could we have done?
What good would it have done, if we’d fought them as one?
On behalf of our boys, shouldn’t we’ve stood behind them HERE?
So they didn’t have to go and fight them there?
Here is where we should have been fighting,
Fighting for our kids, instead of them fighting
For us.
For them, we failed…
Now put the failures
In jail
For trying
And succeeding
In lying,
And our failure
For not trying
Hard enough
Long enough
Tough enough…
We SAW, we saw
It’s not enough now
To say, “Stop it now!”
Eventually we
Need to stop and see
What we
Were too weak
To do -
To stop them all
And by asking why…
The citizens’ duty
Is always just that
To ask, “Why
Is it required
To give over our sons
For the use of big bro,
Little bro, any bro?”
“Not mine,” said the one,
“Not mine,” said the two -
Never again,
Never again
Can we do this…
Can we do this?
Can we do this?
Librarian Laura, went to the Arts Board
To fetch her poor Georgie a boon…
But the bards and skalds there
Gave her naught but cold stares -
“Get poems from neocon goons!”
So Laura left empty-handed. Her visage was branded;
It shone brightly declaiming her shame.
Her hushand, unwitting,
Had his legacy, so fitting.
No poets would play his sad games.
Oklahoma kiddo @ 45
And I’ll take Bob Somerby’s word before Arianna’s.
Every time.
Ahh, but it’s our sons that they’re f***in’:
The’ve killed more than OBL,
And may they all go back to the ‘ell
That they came from -
Where they can clear brush,
Shoot friends faceless
Till that ‘ell freezes over,
And they can face the faces
Of those they sacrificed
For their pals’, to get elected,
Oh blood sacrifice!
Where is thy stain?
Since the Aztecs and Druids fell
We’ve created war to kill
Our young instead.
Fear of our adolescent males
Leads us to use our demon enemies
To do our killin’ fer us.
Our version of
Infanticide takes longer,
But it has its unjust desserts:
It gives old chicken farts
And chicken hawks
The idea
That they’ve got balls…
What else good are our sons and daughters for
After all?
Darth Vader (Dark Father) knows…
Akk!!
That
was from hackworth!
I screwed up and deleted too much and lost his credit… Sorry!
Suicide in the Trenches
I KNEW a simple soldier boy
Who grinned at life in empty joy,
Slept soundly through the lonesome dark,
And whistled early with the lark.
In winter trenches, cowed and glum,
With crumps and lice and lack of rum,
He put a bullet through his brain.
No one spoke of him again.
You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye
Who cheer when soldier lads march by,
Sneak home and pray you’ll never know
The hell where youth and laughter go.
Siegfried Sassoon, 1918
Great is the hand that holds dominion over man by a scribbled name. (Thomas)
“PEACE PRAYERS”
What are these words that ask for peace
jeweled words, rubied and pearled,
that stroke one’s conscience.
Who says these words?
Who listens? Who hears?
Humbly, Congress bows it’s head
before it votes
for Trident submarines
and mx missiles.
Like little boys,
they eagerly await
their star wars game-
their very own.
Bloated with puffed up power
they pray for peace
and plan for war.
L. Varner
68: Moran quoted Kipling? There’s a lot more Kipling he could quote – including his savage rebuke to Tennyson’s “Charge of the Light Brigade”. Not many people know *that* poem, because in it the common soldiers speak, bitterly, of the neglect and abuse they endured after their part in the action was over. Including from the belaureled poet who sang the praises of the dead heroes of Balaclava.
Kipling’s pithy bitterness re: World War I was partly inspired by the loss of his only son in that combat.
“Don’t mess with the poets”? Puh-lease!
When I first started blogging back in the bleak days of 2003, this was one of my first links.
Still hilarious, and utterly offensive, 4 years later.
brendan @
90
If this is what you were linking to, I can see why you called your blogging days of 2003 “bleak.” You don’t have to agree with me or anyone else around here, but a little thoughtful commentary would be appreciated.
While I completely agree with and understand Sam Hamill and Sharon Olds not being able to tolerate the freeze-dried pet-goat blood ritual called ‘Books R Us’ at the white house I wonder if anyone from the literary community has considered ‘pulling an Eartha Kitt.’
anyone remember what I’m talking about?
ifthethunderdontgetya @ 83
quite frankly hilary sounds totally cuckoo concerning iran.
Peterr,
Thanks for the antiwar poetry thread. Here are some poems that were submitted to me shortly after the war began. I was looking for lyrics about Rachel Corrie or about issues she could have identified with had she lived. I received dozens. There have been hundreds of poems and scores of songs written about her. I used these:
Around you the father gods war. This
Father. That father. The other father.
What more dangerous place could
A woman stand, upright, than on that sand, as if
She were still antiphon to that voice, the other
Mind of that power. The very idea!
Crush her back in to her mother!
Crush her. Crush her. Consensus. War.
- Linda McCarriston
The skies are weeping
The birds have flown away
With rain-sodden flowers in hand
I wait for you, Rachel…
The rain drops trickle
Washing the scent off the mourning tulips
Pounding the healing earth
The howling winds and trembling blades of grass
Calling for you, Rachel…
Dust dancing around my knees
Walling me in, and my grief
From the weeping heavens faintly at first
I hear you, Rachel…
You give strength to my tears
And resolve to my limbs
As I stand up with my broken tulips
The skies are clearing
The earth is sprouting fresh blades of grass
That whisper your name, Rachel…
The winds are gentle
Reassuring in their calmness
Heaven and earth rejoice today
As you’re with me again, Rachel…
– Thushara Wijeratna
Rachel’s Words (edited by Philip Munger)
Feel sick to my stomach a lot
from being doted on all the time,
very sweetly,
by people who are facing doom.
You can always hear the tanks and bulldozers
passing by.
I have bad nightmares about tanks and bulldozers
outside our house
and you and me inside.
Tanks and bulldozers destroyed 25 greenhouses
the livelihoods for 300 people.
Then the bulldozers come and take out
people’s vegetable farms and gardens.
This happens every day.
I think that I should at least mention that
I am also discovering a degree of strength
and of basic ability for humans to remain human
in the direst of circumstances.
I think the word is dignity.
I wish you could meet these people.
Maybe, hopefully, someday
you will.
(http://www.pbs.org/newshour/bb/poems/jan-june99/pinsky_4-5.html)
THE PEN AND THE SWORD
from the News Hour with Jim Leher on Monday, April 5, 1999
Robert Pinsky, Poet Laureate of the United States, contemplates war.
ROBERT PINSKY: With armed conflict and suffering and evidence of atrocity in the news this April, which is also poetry month, an old question emerges again: What use or relevance does poetry have in the face of large-scale political disaster or evil ? The Polish poet, Ceslav Milos, who survived the Nazi occupation of Poland, has said that in those days even the most tinted person by carrying in a pocket some poetry in the Polish language could register a small, stubborn particle of resistance. And in his poem “Incantation” Milos gives a bold, resonating answer to the question of poetry’s significance. As the title “Incantation” suggests, the poem is a kind of prayer, less a description of the world as it is at any moment than the world as it will be or as it is at some ultimate core. Here is the poem in an English version that I made with the author.
INCANTATION
(Czeslaw Milosz)
Human reason is beautiful and invincible.
No bars, no barbed wire, no pulping of books,
No sentence of banishment can prevail against it.
It establishes the universal ideas in language,
And guides our hand so we write Truth and Justice
With capital letters, lie and oppression with small.
It puts what should be above things as they are,
It is an enemy of despair and a friend of hope.
It does not know Jew from Greek or slave from master,
Giving us the estate of the world to manage.
It saves austere and transparent phrases
From the filthy discord of tortured words.
It says that everything is new under the sun,
Opens the congealed fist of the past.
Beautiful and very young are Philo-Sophia
And poetry, her ally in the service of the good.
As late as yesterday Nature celebrated their birth,
The news was brought to the mountains by a unicorn and an echo,
Their friendship will be glorious, their time has no limit,
Their enemies have delivered themselves to destruction.
–Czeslaw Milosz, trans. Robert Pinsky & the author
President Kennedy and his brother Bobby were true lovers of poetry and used it many times in their eloquent speeches.
Sweet Savior; can we be so bold as to ever expect someone like them again?
This man couldn’t even remember this simple, yet meaningful tidbit
Fool me once, shame on you,
Fool me twice shame on, me
Salute to the poets.
14 Peterr says:
Those four conditions that are waiting in the wings for Bush’s war funding request are a big slap in the face to the administration.
Thanks, Peterr, for the poetry stream and for alerting us to the above. Hooray that the House is doing it’s thing; but only if it’s a first step toward starting the impeachment process.
But, dear Lord, please hurry it all up and let the killing and lieing stop soon. Lord have mercy.