Poetry Wednesday 03/11/09: Three Poems by Barack Obama
The Poetry of Barack Obama, the next president of the United States.
Published: May 18, 2008
New York Times Following are two poems by Barack Obama that were published in the Spring 1981 issue of “Feast,” a 51-page student literary journal that described itself as “a semi-annual journal of short poetry and fiction collected from the Occidental College community.” The journal is no longer published, according to a college spokesman.
.
Pop
by Barack Obama
Sitting in his seat, a seat broad and broken
in, sprinkled with ashes,
Pop switches channels, takes another
Shot of Seagrams, neat, and asks
What to do with me, a green young man
Who fails to consider the
Flim and flam of the world, since
Things have been easy for me;
I stare hard at his face, a stare
That deflects off his brow;
I’m sure he’s unaware of his
Dark, watery eyes, that
Glance in different directions,
And his slow, unwelcome twitches,
Fail to pass.
I listen, nod,
Listen, open, till I cling to his pale,
Beige T-shirt, yelling,
Yelling in his ears, that hang
With heavy lobes, but he’s still telling
His joke, so I ask why
He’s so unhappy, to which he replies…
But I don’t care anymore, cause
He took too damn long, and from
Under my seat, I pull out the
Mirror I’ve been saving; I’m laughing,
Laughing loud, the blood rushing from his face
To mine, as he grows small,
A spot in my brain, something
That may be squeezed out, like a
Watermelon seed between
Two fingers.
Pop takes another shot, neat
Points out the same amber
Stain on his shorts that I’ve got on mine, and
Makes me smell his smell, coming
From me; he switches channels, recites an old poem
He wrote before his mother died,
Stands, shouts, and asks
For a hug, as I shink, my
Arms barely reaching around
His thick, oily neck, and his broad back; ‘cause
I see my face, framed within
Pop’s black-framed glasses
And know he’s laughing too.
Underground
by Barack Obama
Under water grottos, caverns
Filled with apes
That eat figs.
Stepping on the figs
That the apes
Eat, they crunch.
The apes howl, bare
Their fangs, dance,
Tumble in the
Rushing water,
Musty, wet pelts
Glistening in the blue.
Old Man
by Barack Obama
written in high school
I saw an old forgotten man
On an old, forgotten road
staggering and numb
pulls out forgotten dignity from under his flaking coat,
And walks a straight line along the crooked world.
by Rebecca MeadJuly 2, 2007
In 1981, Feast, a literary magazine produced at Occidental College, published two poems by Obama, who was then a student there. The first, “Pop,” appears to be a loving if slightly jaded portrait of Obama’s maternal grandfather, with whom he spent a large part of his childhood. Free in structure and with a bold use of enjambment, it begins, “Sitting in his seat, a seat broad and broken / In, sprinkled with ashes, / Pop switches channels, takes another / Shot of Seagrams, neat, and asks / What to do with me, a green young man / Who fails to consider the / Flim and flam of the world, since / Things have been easy for me.” The second, “Underground,” offers a vivid if obscurely symbolic description of a tribe of submarine primates. An exemplary few lines go, “Under water grottos, caverns / Filled with apes / That eat figs. / Stepping on the figs / That the apes / Eat, they crunch.” Harold Bloom, who in fifty-three years of teaching literature at Yale University has had many undergraduate poems pressed hopefully upon him said, when reached by telephone in New Haven last week, that he was not familiar with Obama’s oeuvre. But after studying the poems he said that he was not unimpressed with the young man’s efforts—at least, by the standards established by other would-be bards within the political sphere. “At eighteen, as an undergraduate, he was already a much better poet than our former Secretary of Defense William Cohen, who keeps publishing terrible poetry,” Bloom said. (Cohen has published two collections of verse: “Of Sons and Seasons,” in 1978, and “A Baker’s Nickel,” in 1986.) “And then there is Jimmy Carter, who is in my judgment literally the worst poet in the United States.” (Carter’s first volume of poetry, “Always a Reckoning and Other Poems,” which was published in 1994, included a work called “Why We Get Cheaper Tires from Liberia”: “No churches can be built / no privy holes or even graves / dug in the rolling hills / for those milking Firestone’s trees, who die / from mamba and mosquito bites.”)
Of the two Obama poems, Bloom said, “Pop” was “not bad—a good enough folk poem with some pathos and humor and affection.” He went on, “It is not wholly unlike Langston Hughes, who tended to imitate Carl Sandburg.” Bloom was fascinated by Obama’s use of an unusual verb, “shink” (“He . . . Stands, shouts, and asks / For a hug, as I shink, my / Arms barely reaching around / His thick, oily neck”), a word that does not appear in any of the dictionaries that Bloom consulted but which is defined in an online slang dictionary as “an evasive sinking maneuver.”
“It undoubtedly was a word that was in common usage, having to do with feeling very strong emotion, in this case a very strong need for comfort,” Bloom said. He takes the subtext of the poem to be Obama’s reckoning with his absent father, for whom his grandfather is, inevitably, an inadequate substitute. “This is, in effect, his own father,” Bloom said. “That’s very touching, and it also shows a kind of humane and sad wit. There’s a mind there.” “Underground,” Bloom said, is the better poem of the two. “It gave me the oddest feeling that he might have been reading the poems of D. H. Lawrence—it reminded me of the poem ‘Snake,’ ” Bloom went on. “I think it is about some sense of chthonic forces, just as Lawrence frequently is—some sense, not wholly articulated, of something below, trying to break through.”
Hello, and welcome back to Poetry Wednesday 3/11/09. You can sign in today and take the tour thru Thursday, so take your time.
I’ll be your hostess again this week. My sister, Sans Souci, is on a break, putting together her own poetry book, but she will check in.
Before we get started, please make sure that your post has a link to get back to this page to make it easier to take the tour:
1) Copy and paste the following link that I have provided for you from this page to somewhere on your poetry post.
Link back to the Poetry Wednesday tour on Laurita’s page
2) Leave the link of your poetry post in the comments section below. This is the link guests will click on to read your poem (see my post below as an example).
You are listening to:
Follow
By Richie Havens
Climb to the treetops, child, if you’re able
Let your hands tie a knot across the table.
Come and touch the things you cannot feel.And close your fingertips and fly where I can’t hold you
Let the sun-rain fall and let the dewy clouds enfold you
And maybe you can sing to me the words I just told you,
If all the things you feel ain’t what they seem.
And don’t mind me ‘cos I ain’t nothin’ but a dream.The mocking bird sings each different song
Each song has wings – they won’t stay long.
Do those who hear think he’s doing wrong?
While the church bell tolls its one-note song
And the school bell is tinkling to the throng.
Come here where your ears cannot hear.And close your eyes, child, and listen to what I’ll tell you
Follow in the darkest night the sounds that may impel you
And the song that I am singing may disturb or serve to quell you
If all the sounds you hear ain’t what they seem,
Then don’t mind me ‘cos I ain’t nothin’ but a dreamThe rising smell of fresh-cut grass
Smothered cities choke and yell with fuming gas
I hold some grapes up to the sun
And their flavour breaks upon my tongue.
With eager tongues we taste our strife
And fill our lungs with seas of life.
Come taste and smell the waters of our time.
And close your lips, child, so softly I might kiss you,
Let your flower perfume out and let the winds caress you.
As I walk on through the garden I am hoping I don’t miss you
If all the things you taste ain’t what they seem,
Then don’t mind me ‘cos I ain’t nothin’ but a dream .
The sun and moon both arise
And we’ll see them soon through days and nights
But now silver leaves are mirrors, bring delights.
And the colours of your eyes are fiery bright,
While darkness blinds the skies with all its light.
Come see where your eyes cannot see.
And close your eyes, child, and look at what I’ll show you;
Let your mind go reeling out and let the breezes blow you,
And maybe when we meet then suddenly I will know you.
If all the things you see ain’t
quite what they seem,
Then don’t mind me ‘cos I ain’t nothin’ but a dream .
And you can follow; And you can follow; follow…
 |
sanssouciblogs wrote on Nov 4, ’08
These are amazing, he is good!
|
|
lauritasita wrote on Nov 4, ’08
I’m trying to get more information about when he wrote these. so far, the poem, “Pop” is actually about his grandfather.
|
|
dianahopeless wrote on Nov 4, ’08
Thanks for sharing these Laurita. I had no idea he was a poet! I wonder if he still writes?!
|
|
lauritasita wrote on Nov 4, ’08
He’s pretty good, eh ?
|
|
sanssouciblogs said
Yep, he surely is!!!
|
These are amazing, he is good! 
|
lauritasita wrote on Nov 4, ’08
I just found these a little while ago. I will post more facts about them as I surf the web. Thank you.
|
|
sugarpiehuny wrote on Nov 4, ’08
I enjoyed reading them.. Thanks
|
|
lauritasita wrote on Nov 4, ’08
Thanks for visiting, sugarpiehuny.
|
|
lauritasita wrote on Nov 4, ’08
I just added more information about these poems.
|
|
|
starfishred wrote on Nov 4, ’08
Very good post,he is really talented thanks laurita.
|
|
lauritasita wrote on Nov 4, ’08
Thanks, Heidi. I thought it would be a real treat to read some poetry by our next president !
|
|
eccentricmare wrote on Nov 5, ’08
These were a real treat, and a stellar find!
|
|
forgetmenot525 wrote on Nov 5, ’08
OMG is there anything this man can’t do??…………….he won the election ……….AND he wrote poetry. what a man 🙂
|
|
lauritasita wrote on Nov 5, ’08
His work is pretty interesting.
|
|
I thank you so much for posting these poems!! I didn’t know this remarkable man also wrote poetry! I really enjoyed reading them.
http://sylvie1.multiply.com/journal/item/671/_POETRY_WEDNESDAY_ |
|
lauritasita wrote on Nov 6, ’08
Thanks for visiting sylvie. I enjoyed them, too.
|
|
lauritasita wrote on Nov 19, ’08
I hope everyone got a chance to read this post.
|
|
|
starfishred wrote on Dec 29, ’08
these are great thanks laurita for the nice post
|
|
sweetpotatoqueen wrote on Dec 30, ’08
Obama is truly a thinking man ! Thanks for sharing the talents of our President Elect.
|
|
forgetmenot525 wrote on Dec 30, ’08
nice post………..have been trying to think of another politician who also writes poetry………..sure there must be one somewhere But………..I can’t think of any. Looks like you got yourselves a thinking President………….a rarity indeed.
|
Comments
Poetry Wednesday 03/11/09: Three Poems by Barack Obama — No Comments
HTML tags allowed in your comment: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>