The Word from the Corner - THE REPUBLIC GIVES THANKS by Amanda Gorman

The Word from the Corner

Shared on "North Andover Poets Corner" on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/groups/northandoverpoets/permalink/968407760016148/

"The play's the thing". The same way that a play is in the performance, so it is with poetry. We can read a poem and "play" it in our mind, but it only really comes alive when performed and experienced. Shakespeare's line from Hamlet came to me when I saw Amanda Gorman, the US Youth Poet Laureate, perform a new poem of hers on CBS This Morning on Thanksgiving morning. It was written by Amanda for the occasion. Her words are shared below, but her words really sing in her performance and the beautiful production by the CBS News producer (at the link). Enjoy. ________________________________________________

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NwdsaxqJut4

CBS News: "On Thanksgiving, we reflect on the things and the people for which we are grateful. In honor of this tradition, we asked 20-year-old Amanda Gorman, the inaugural Youth Poet Laureate of the U.S., to write a poem about what the holiday means to her." “THE REPUBLIC GIVES THANKS” by Amanda Gorman In 1863, deep in the Civil War’s magnitude, Abraham Lincoln called declared a day of gratitude Shared by one heart and one voice of America. A proclamation for a nation in a nightmare, This Thanksgiving dared Americans To chime their thanks at a time many believed That they had no thanks to give. Yet is this quirky day now about turkey? About a plate full of food? Or is it about being grateful In more than just attitude? The Haudenosaunee/Iroquois remind us With one mind, to find the words That come before all else, because to give thanks is to live it. It’s not just in speech, But in each of our daily actions. It’s reaching across divisions towards a Vision of a long, strong house and table Where we’re able to gather together. If we dream past pilgrims and the mast of the Mayflower, It may empower us to bravely learn From the People of the First Light, To return to Lincoln’s fight, To furnish our might by uniting around Any piece of peace, no matter how small. We still hear all these first teachers, Called by the will of those still here on this earth, Like the Wampanoag, who show us the worthiest Way to give thanks for our blessings Isn’t to hog them, but to give them away. It’s then, full of this feeling, That healing can begin, because maybe To be American is to be a kin To a courageous hope: The trust that even if just for a moment We can, we must, close rank as people, One heart, one voice, one mind, created equal. Like two vessels meeting at a riverbank anew Under the sky’s greeting of bright, blank blue, You’ll begin beside the people who flank you. We come to these words before and above all dreams, Saying with more love and restored meaning: Thank you. https://www.pw.org/content/amanda_gorman_named_national_youth_poet_laureate

Football poem "Before the kickoff"

Poetry before a football game? Well, of course!

I had the chance on Friday to introduce the North Andover HS and Westford Academy teams with a poem.

Thank you to Sara Durkin for being open to the idea of a football poem before the game. The Scarlet and Black chorus were lined up to sing the national anthem - and she gave me the mic:

"Two teams will take the field - Scarlet Knights, meet the Grey Ghosts.
To the captains - are your teams ready to give their most?
First honor sportsmanship, first honor fair play.
Then seek to be champion, then seize the day.
Both teams come here to compete,
both teams come here to win.
One will leave the field with the banner,
may all leave the field as friends.

https://youtu.be/e_C1KLhHKj4

PS
The idea for this little poem all happened last week. On Tuesday night, Gayle Heney, a past Poet Laureate of North Andover, handed me the email address of Ray Ahern, a cameraman for NA Cable Access. NACAM records and broadcasts the HS football games, and Ray thought it would be cool to have a poem at the coin toss. So I wrote these lines over the next few days. 

I arrive early to find Ray (who I had never met) before the game. As I talked to him, it was now clear that this was his idea only, nobody else there was on board. Like the PA announcer or Athletic Director or anybody. But he did have a good idea. And I had my little football poem. So now what? 


I needed Sara Durkin, NAHS Chorus Director. I knew that reading it before the national anthem would be perfect. Would Sara be ok with it? Since I'm on the board of the North Andover Music Association, the music booster group, she knew who I was.  So I headed to the HS auditorium, and found her with the chorus where they had just finished rehearsing. I explained what I wanted to do...she was a little confused until I said I was North Andover's Poet Laureate. Then it all made sense to her! She gave an enthusiastic yes. Thank you Sara. Should I do one for this Friday's next playoff game? (PS I did!)

The Word from the Corner - Among the Names

The Word from the Corner Poets have an unfair - if not completely undeserved - reputation as a depressive, inward looking lot. You know, "We're all going to die...hey...I think I have an idea for a poem..." That line of thought. But if you come out to a poetry night (say on October 23rd at 7PM at the Tuesdays4Poetry open mic at Stevens Memorial Library), you'll get a very different take. Besides insight into what makes someone tick, you'll hear a lot of wry observations and social commentary. Funny stuff too. Really. But going with the depressive theme, at this time of year my thoughts turn to...cemeteries. My wife and I went on a tour of the 1st burial ground in North Andover on Academy Road. Stone by stone, historian Richard Hite walked us through the cemetery, and talked about those buried there who were involved in the witch trials of 1692. The graves of many are there - from the "afflicted", to the accusers, the accused, and the many people who came out publicly to oppose the charges. This opposition led directly to bringing the witchcraft crisis to a close by early 1693. The tour was hosted by the North Andover Historical Society. Here's a poem that I wrote a few years ago standing in that same grassy field. Like many poems, it took a turn of its own. Enjoy. _______________________________________________ Among The Names Standing on this cold field Surrounded by stones and names We get cold feet Unsure where we stand in this world Or the next Among the stones and names All we can do is listen, and stand in the quiet Among still grasses, standing stones, fallen leaves Among the dead Grateful for any message Unsure what we’d do if one came Still we listen Among the dead There’s an inside joke, perhaps a nod, an unseen wink An elbow in the ribs A stifled laugh, a quieting hand to shush the lips A secret smile They can no longer laugh out loud But they get the joke They get it For they saw the whole show Bought the ticket, paid full price too Standing among the names Their hushed unspoken message This message that they earned Silently is heard Ok, it’s ok Your time, enjoy This cold field, enjoy Your cold feet too Until you get the joke Until you find your name Among the dead Grateful be --October 2015 --Old Burial Ground, Academy Road --North Andover, Mass. --by Mark Bohrer ____________________________________________

Here's the book by Richard Hite: https://www.amazon.com/Shadow-Salem-Andover-Witch-Hunt/dp/1594163006/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1539526506&sr=8-1&keywords=richard+hite

The Word from the Corner - Still I Rise

The Word from the Corner

I spent the weekend up at a church retreat for the environment in Crawford Notch NH, at the AMC Highland Center. Great location, wonderful community of the spirit, powerful topic. Rev. Jim Antal was the keynote. Amazing speaker and leader. Look up his book. 

At the retreat, gave out a booklet of my favorite nature poems. One of those was by Mary Oliver. I was going to share that poem today.

But after the week that was, I can't do that. There have been very few times in my life when I wake up at 5AM and the first thought that comes to my head, there lying in bed, is the awful thing that those in power have just done. But that is the dark cloud that I'm under, and I know many others are feeling it too. Yes, I woke up thinking about the awful Brett Kavanaugh hearings, and the final approval by the Senate. The Senate did not do their job of "advice and consent".

Because of that, this week's poem is another one that I shared at the retreat. One by Maya Angelou. Just because it's a long road, doesn't mean that you turn back, or that you stop going forward. I have a list of my personal commandments, and my first one is "Thou Shalt Not Give Up."  #9 is "Vote". May it be so. Peace.

PS I included a link to the Mary Oliver poem below because we need that too.
____________________________________________________________


Still I Rise
BY MAYA ANGELOU

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
’Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
’Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

Maya Angelou, "Still I Rise" from And Still I Rise: A Book of Poems.

_____________________________________________________________________

http://billjohnsononline.com/mindful-mary-oliver/

The Word from the Corner - Marching Band by Brie Carter

The Word from the Corner I'm fresh from the marching band competition yesterday at North Andover High School - 16 HS and 2 college bands played and marched and performed. What a show. I love the smaller bands, but it's the biggest ones with more than 100 band and color guard performers that really amaze. Found a poem that captured one of those times, from the HS student's perspective, from the field. Enjoy. __________________________________________ Marching Band - by Brie Carter As the snare clicks My feet hit the ground Steady with the beat I can't look around To see the large crowd All eyes on us With an audience this size We better not mess up The adrenaline's pumping I'm ready to go We stand at attention Waiting to start the show The drum major counts off And the music starts We sound just fine The beat matches my heart I can smell the night air And the fresh cut grass on the field The best smells in the world To match the weapons we wield Friday night lights Go well with the band As we finish up The audience claps and then stands Mark time mark We march off to our seats My uniform is uncomfortably tight But I must say, our band is pretty sweet _________________________________________

It’s Time for Indigenous Peoples Day (poem)

It’s Time for Indigenous People's Day

First, it’s not true 
that I can only speak in rhyme.
I can’t talk that way on cue, 
and who has the time?
I can only say what I say, 
and for that, I’m not sorry.
Poets only arrange words this way 
when we want to tell a story.

Columbus explored, 
for that he’s rightly known,
But as we’ve learned some more, 
our knowledge has only grown.
In the story we all learned, 
some chapters were left out.
Other people here, they yearned
to be heard, without having to shout.

Columbus changed the world, 
and in our alma maters, 
one thing will never change,
he’ll remain known. 
But as history has unfurled, 
the distance has made things clearer.
As we get farther from that 1492 meeting,
We’re seeing a bigger picture.

That’s why we don’t want the lesson shortchanged – 
We want our kids to learn, to truly understand.

We want our kids to read from all the missing chapters.
We want our kids to heare from every voice, completely.
We want our kids to know that books can have many authors.
We want our kids to hear the story of our entire human family.

If that means we change the name, 
from time to time,
of some of our favorite holidays,
then I believe, if I may claim,
we shall be a little better, 
and in the end, 
I believe, we shall even be, ok.

North Andover Mass., September 2018

The Word from the Corner - Good Bones By Maggie Smith

The Word from the Corner Sometimes it's hard to know whether to go up or down. What is needed. Anyone who loves how words can capture a thought or a moment learns to go with what the moment says, and what is needed. And step out of the way. Sometimes down is up, you know? You gotta laugh sometimes. Or cry. Or both at the same time. Here's one by Maggie Smith that did that for me. Enjoy. I hope. Peace. _____________________________________________ Good Bones By Maggie Smith Life is short, though I keep this from my children. Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways, a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative estimate, though I keep this from my children. For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird. For every loved child, a child broken, bagged, sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world is at least half terrible, and for every kind stranger, there is one who would break you, though I keep this from my children. I am trying to sell them the world. Any decent realtor, walking you through a real shithole, chirps on about good bones: This place could be beautiful, right? You could make this place beautiful. ____________________________________________ From "The Best American Poetry 2017", edited by Natasha Tretheway and David Lehman. The Best American Poetry 2017 Find more poetry in the North Andover area here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/northandoverpoets/

The Western Canon In Haiku

The Word from the Corner September 16, 2018 A challenge for you this week. At this past Tuesday's Frost "Hoot" at Cafe Azteca, I had some some fun with haiku. I presented my take on the great books: The Western Canon in Haiku. It can be done! Here are some of mine below. Can you come up with some of yours? Email me and I'll post. Rules of this game: - Theme: Great books and ideas of the Western Canon (as expanded in recent decades, thankfully, beyond the "dead white male" authors...and beyond the Western world...) - Loose haiku form - not restricted to the 5-7-5 rule - Try for 3 lines, max of 4, limit to 16 words (try) - Can rhyme or not - Short, punchy Jim Knowles who hosts the Frost Foundation Hoot suggested these tweaks to the form. He reasons: "The Japanese rules on syllables and topics tie into their grammar and pictographics. American English is a multi-lingual festival of thievery.....and mixed metaphor. We need a short form to celebrate that!" Go for it! What can you come up with?

The Western Canon in Haiku

All those books to read

Skip the Latin, skip the Greek

Here is what you need!

Knowledge, truth, beauty!

Here’s the Canon in haiku!

Wisdom! Brevity!

A rhyming haiku!

How many sy-LAHB-els?

Against form, the purists cringe

Haiku – it must follow form!

Even I must twinge

When I don’t say the prayer

In holy five-seven-five,

That sin I must bear

But onward we go,

For the rest won’t be rhyming

Class! Let’s start the show…

The Old Testament

In the beginning

God gave his people a land

Messiah? Still waiting…

The New Testamant

Jesus was made man

He walked on water, died, rose

Paul made the franchise

Homer’s Odyssey

Odysseus sails

Ten years pass, mom has suitors!

He’s back! Tragedy!

Divine Comedy by Dante

Dante circles hell

Not much of a comedy –

It’s a hell of a world!

The Works of William Shakespeare

Will wrote sonnets, plays –

comedies and tragedies –

yes, Will wrote them all

The Adventures of Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens

Orphan boy, cruel world

Please, sir, may I have some more?

Says Bumble: No more!

Walt Whitman

He wrote “Leaves of Grass”

He’s America’s poet

We don’t read poetry

Emily Dickinson

More than nobody

She would not stop for death

But I stop for her

Anna Karenina by Tolstoy

Sad anna, sad wife

Run away with your Vronsky

A train? Now we’re sad!

(spoiler alert: yes she throws herself in front of a train)

Sigmund Freud and Psychoanalysis

Oedipus complex?

Id? Ego? Super-ego?

It’s just a cigar!

Jean-Paul Sartre and Existentialism

Condemned to freedom!

To be alive, we must choose!

I still don’t get it

The Valley of the Dolls by Jacqueline Susann

Yes, one of the giants

Eventually she will be

The future knows, trust me

The dolls are the pills

Three girls seek fame, don’t find it

It sold a lot of copies

The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien

Frodo has the ring

Sauron searches with his eye

Three movies to rule them all!

(no six! Eight? Eleventeen?)

And one more – this is by my daughter Jillian:

(caution - spoiler alert!)

Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince (book 6)

by J.K. Rowling

Pensieve shows the past

Horcruxes must be destroyed

Snape kills Dumbledore!

Thus ends the Western Canon

Our lesson is done

You may not know it all

But at least you know some

The Word from the Corner - Amy Lowell and Ted Kooser

The Word from the Corner

     (originally posted on Facebook "North Andover Poets Corner" 11 Aug 2018)

Two poems about travel this week. One about traveling away from one you love, the second about traveling together. Didn't want to have one without the other. Peace.
______________________________________________

The Taxi
By Amy Lowell (1874–1925)

When I go away from you
The world beats dead
Like a slackened drum.
I call out for you against the jutted stars
And shout into the ridges of the wind.
Streets coming fast,
One after the other,
Wedge you away from me,

And the lamps of the city prick my eyes
So that I can no longer see your face.
Why should I leave you,
To wound myself upon the sharp edges of the night?

_________________________________________________

A Map of the World
by Ted Kooser (b.1939)

One of the ancient maps of the world
is heart-shaped, carefully drawn
and once washed with bright colors,
though the colors have faded
as you might expect feelings to fade
from a fragile old heart, the brown map
of a life. But feeling is indelible,
and longing infinite, a starburst compass
pointing in all the directions
two lovers might go, a fresh breeze
swelling their sails, the future uncharted,
still far from the edge
where the sea pours into the stars.
_________________________________________________

Both are from "The Best of Poetry In Motion", edited by Alice Quinn, selections from the continuing NYC MTA program that started in 1992 and posted art and poetry in the NY subways.

The Word from the Corner - AUTUMN BY RAINER MARIA RILKE

The Word from the Corner

The weather seems to want to turn toward fall...but the temperatures haven't been cooperating, not yet anyway. But I'm ready for fall, and I found this poem by Rainer Maria Rilke. And then I found about a dozen translations from Rilke's original German! Which one is best? Since I don't speak German, it's hard to tell, but I liked this one by Margarete Münsterberg, first published 1902. I include the original German for those who do know the language. I'm not an expert on the art of translating poetry...but it's pretty clear that you don't translate a poem, you re-author it. You need to be a poet yourself, one who's darn good enough to capture the allusions and imagery in the new language. Oh yeah, and get the rhythm and rhyme while you're at it. How is that possible? But some poets out there are good enough to do it. I hope our autumn arrives soon. Enjoy. ______________________________________________ AUTUMN BY RAINER MARIA RILKE, 1875-1926 (Translated by Margarete Münsterberg) The leaves are falling, falling as from far, As if far gardens in the skies were dying; They fall, and never seem to be denying. And in the night the earth, a heavy ball, Into a starless solitude must fall. We all are falling. My own hand no less Than all things else; behold, it is in all. Yet there is One who, utter gentleness, Holds all this falling in His hands to bless. ______________________________________________ Herbst Die Blätter fallen, fallen wie von weit, als welkten in den Himmeln ferne Gärten; sie fallen mit verneinender Gebärde. Und in den Nächten fällt die schwere Erdeaus allen Sternen in die Einsamkeit. Wir allen fallen. Diese Hand da fällt. Und sieh dir andre an: es ist in allen. Und doch ist einer, welcher dieses Fallen undendlich sanft in seinen Händen hält.