Poetry For Politics: How To Make It Through The Last Week

[babylonsister]

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/john-lundberg/poetry-for-politics-how-t_b_137617.html

John Lundberg
Posted October 26, 2008 | 08:17 AM (EST)
Poetry For Politics: How To Make It Through The Last Week

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And here's the conclusion of Tennyson's "Ulysses," one of the great inspirational poems in the Western canon.

... Come, my friends.
'T is not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,--
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

If that doesn't get you fired up and ready to go, I don't know what will. Of course, if somehow fear and bigotry win the day, you'd best take your advice from Dorothy Parker's "Resume":

Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.

I guess. On a more serious note, I can't think of a more meaningful poem for this week than "I, Too, Sing America" by Langston Hughes. Born in Joplin, Mississippi in 1902, Hughes knew racism well, and he answered it here with a proud, challenging style that echoes Whitman. It stuns me to think that this was written--that Hughes faced these issues--just over fifty years ago. And it makes me smile to think of what's about to happen now.

I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.

Tomorrow,
I'll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody'll dare
Say to me,
"Eat in the kitchen,"
Then.

Besides,
They'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed--

I, too, am America.

He is. And by next Tuesday, I hope, no one will ever be able to dispute that.

[LeftishBrit]

1. Great stuff!

My favourite 'political inspiration' poems tend to be rather gloomy ones, for times when everything seems hopeless but there is still some light to be seen at the end of the tunnel! So perhaps more appropriate for a few years ago than now - though in Britain we do seem not much nearer than before of ridding ourselves of the legacy of Thatcherism (even though it's now got us in a serious economic mess). But here are my favourite poems for keeping up one's spirits when all the wrong people seem to be triumphing:

Say not the Struggle Naught availeth

by Arthur Hugh Clough

SAY not the struggle naught availeth,
The labour and the wounds are vain,
The enemy faints not, nor faileth,
And as things have been they remain.

If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars;
It may be, in yon smoke conceal'd,
Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers,
And, but for you, possess the field.

For while the tired waves, vainly breaking,
Seem here no painful inch to gain,
Far back, through creeks and inlets making,
Comes silent, flooding in, the main.

And not by eastern windows only,
When daylight comes, comes in the light;
In front the sun climbs slow, how slowly!
But westward, look, the land is bright!



And even more gloomy, but with inspiration at the end:


708. The Last Word

Matthew Arnold (1822–1888)


CREEP into thy narrow bed,
Creep, and let no more be said!
Vain thy onset! all stands fast.
Thou thyself must break at last.

Let the long contention cease!
Geese are swans, and swans are geese.
Let them have it how they will!
Thou art tired; best be still.

They out-talk’d thee, hiss’d thee, tore thee?
Better men fared thus before thee;
Fired their ringing shot and pass’d,
Hotly charged—and sank at last.

Charge once more, then, and be dumb!
Let the victors, when they come,
When the forts of folly fall,
Find thy body by the wall!


And my favourite poem for personal inspiration, though not specifically political - can apply to anything, and I kept it near me at a very difficult period of my own working life. Like the first one, by Clough:

All Is Well

by Arthur Hugh Clough


Whate'er you dream, with doubt possessed,
Keep, keep it snug within your breast,
And lay you down and take your rest;
And when you wake, to work again,
The wind it blows, the vessel goes,
And where and whither, no one knows.

'Twill all be well: no need of care;
Though how it will, and when, and where,
We cannot see, and can't declare.
In spite of dreams, in spite of thought,
'Tis not in vain, and not for nought,
The wind it blows, the ship it goes,
Though where and whither, no one knows.