Elizabeth Alexander, the inaugural poet, will be continuing a grand tradition when her verse is declaimed today, says Boyd Tonkin

Tuesday, 20 January 2009

CJ Gunther

Chosen one: the Harlem-born poet Elizabeth Alexander

It must rank as the grandest poetry gig on earth, with a potential audience of billions. It may also terrify the lucky – or unlucky – author into terminal blandness or toe-curling bombast. In spite of her window of worldwide exposure, few fellow-poets will envy the task that faces Elizabeth Alexander today in front of the Capitol in Washington, DC, after musicians such as Yo-Yo Ma and singers such as Aretha Franklin have done their turns.

Alexander, now 46 and a professor at Yale University, was born in Harlem but grew up in Washington. Teaching at the University of Chicago in the early 1990s, she befriended a young colleague who, last month, invited her to perform at his big party: Barack Obama

Obama’s Inauguration Day poem – White House, News – The Independent.

CQ Transcript: Elizabeth Alexander’s Inaugural Poem

CQ Transcriptswire

SPEAKER: ELIZABETH ALEXANDER, POET

[*] 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.

ALEXANDER: 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.

END

.ETX

Jan 20, 2009 12:45 ET .EOF

Source: CQ Transcriptions

© 2009, Congressional Quarterly Inc., All Rights Reserved

by Suzan-Lori Parks

NPR.org, January 16, 2009 ·

U Being U

U Being U
Mr. President-Elect
Makes me wanna get MY stuff
correct

I feel like starting with something RADICAL
Like,
Love my Neighbor
Like share what I’ve got
Like think for myself
Like ask the hard questions
Like lean toward the good and help keep the peace

U being U
Makes me wanna do something new
Like Go Green, or at least try to.

You being you, Mr. President-Elect
Makes me want to look on others with respect
Makes me wanna
practice Radical Inclusion, you know,
Open my heart wide, especially in the presence of folks who
Are not like me, you know,
work to see my Brother
In the Other
You make me want to entertain all my far-out ideas
Make me wanna represent the race, as in the human race,
And know that, like You, I too am Prized.

And to those who say yr a Magic Negro,
I love them just the same
And my love helps us weave a United States.

Mr. President,
Heaven sent
Since heaven is just a place where possibility
becomes possible
And where hostility
holsters
its hostile,
I feel like picking up the trash in the park or on the beach
I think I’ll teach, and learn, from all I meet
I think I’ll apologize in person for all our faults
and try to make amends for our shortcomings
And also, I think,
I’ll brag,
Just a little bit,
About how cool We The People are

Oh, I just had to sing you a little something
Because you,
Mr. President,
You are embarking with Us on an awesome and beautiful
And potentially perilous journey
And so I am giving you
All the Love
All the Love
All the Love
All the Love
Mr. President
That I’ve got
Because I believe
In the dream
And I am ready
To wake up
And live it.

Suzan-Lori Parks is a novelist and playwright. She is the winner of the 2002 Pulitzer Prize in drama for the play Topdog/Underdog.

All The Love For The President-Elect : NPR.

At first blush, “ARTiculation” looks like a free-form poetry slam driven by some well-intentioned young performers. But don’t be fooled. “ARTiculation” is a sharp, smart, funny, and fearless evening of stories and comments told through spoken word and music, delivered by five powerhouse performers and one DJ, all of whom surprise and enchant with their unadorned honesty and lyric dexterity.

Joining words and music in power and light