I was bothered greatly by one thing yesterday. The Inaugural Poem. While I understand that not every poet can be the next Maya Angelou, I ask: can we at least attempt it? Because that was the worst poem I've ever heard. Worst. Ever. While much of it had to do with the way it was read (it is my sincere belief that poets probably shouldn't be the ones to read their own work. Poetry is a cathartic endeavour. It's art expunged. Left to interpretation. A poet reading their poem is interpolation. And it's wrong). See and hear what I mean. I did read it aloud later and it came across much better.
It suffered from a poor panoply of unpoetic words. Chesterton (and Whitman too) will argue me to the death (they win) on this but words like "tire", "pencils", "boombox" and "bus" lack depth and exegetical nuance. And "darning" pushes the edge of poetry as well. Pushes it into the mundane, the muck and mire of everyday life. Poems and Poetry is supposed to put "our heads into the heavens" (take that Chesterton. Your own words). So I was eager to hear the artist's take on yesterday. The person looking down and past and behind and through and alongside.
I was confused by the lines "We walk into that which we cannot yet see" in the middle of the poem when the ending, anti-climatic, demands that we "praise song for walking forward in that light."
Furthermore, if you want me to understand "Praise Song", don't throw at me images. Use sounds and images that inspire sounds. None of the invoked images she chose even approached the power of a song (again, Chesterton, stop talking. I hear your argument loud and clear. I don't disagree with you. I don't. There is great joy in the mundane. In the normal. But is that the function of poetry? C'mon? Is it? That's right. I'm right. Admit it, G.K.).
Overall, I was vastly disappointed with the Inaugural poem -- even upon the re-reading which did make it seem much better.
So I leave you with THE POEM to charge you forward in this new day. I still remember hearing it and being moved during that 7th grade pizza party. Take the time and read it. It's greatness lies in the unassailable timelessness of it. How it was just as striking and brilliant 16 years ago and resonated even more loudly yesterday in me.
It suffered from a poor panoply of unpoetic words. Chesterton (and Whitman too) will argue me to the death (they win) on this but words like "tire", "pencils", "boombox" and "bus" lack depth and exegetical nuance. And "darning" pushes the edge of poetry as well. Pushes it into the mundane, the muck and mire of everyday life. Poems and Poetry is supposed to put "our heads into the heavens" (take that Chesterton. Your own words). So I was eager to hear the artist's take on yesterday. The person looking down and past and behind and through and alongside.
I was confused by the lines "We walk into that which we cannot yet see" in the middle of the poem when the ending, anti-climatic, demands that we "praise song for walking forward in that light."
Furthermore, if you want me to understand "Praise Song", don't throw at me images. Use sounds and images that inspire sounds. None of the invoked images she chose even approached the power of a song (again, Chesterton, stop talking. I hear your argument loud and clear. I don't disagree with you. I don't. There is great joy in the mundane. In the normal. But is that the function of poetry? C'mon? Is it? That's right. I'm right. Admit it, G.K.).
Overall, I was vastly disappointed with the Inaugural poem -- even upon the re-reading which did make it seem much better.
So I leave you with THE POEM to charge you forward in this new day. I still remember hearing it and being moved during that 7th grade pizza party. Take the time and read it. It's greatness lies in the unassailable timelessness of it. How it was just as striking and brilliant 16 years ago and resonated even more loudly yesterday in me.
2 comments:
An interesting reading and an interesting poem. I agree it is too concrete and irratic but there is the desire to move on, into something that has been there all along but has taken along time to get there some by oour distractions to other areas, some by ignorance, some by lack of a moral focus; are we there, no, not at this time, not on this day, nor by one man, or people or nation, for if we put ourselves as the end to the road, the Praise Song of our own ingenuity, purpose and plan, then we will be out of harmony, playing before an ever lessening audience with the only one left, us, and who would listen?
While I agree in the merits of the theme of her poem, and you expressed it well here, the poem itself did not effectively draw upon that idea. It lacked cohesion and solid prose, except for the one line: "Say it plain: that many have died for this day."
Compare the two and it stands obvious which one identifies and succeeds in drawing up of, out of and beyond an idea.
And now the link I gave has the actual stanzic [sic] composition of the poem -- and again, it continues to get better as a poem -- it's merely a good poem. That's all.
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