Monday, January 19, 2009

33 Hours to Go!

Happy MLK Jr. Day! As you might imagine, it's not a holiday here in Germany, so I'm at work. Bummer. I'd really like to be celebrating the civil rights movement. So to protest, I'm blogging.

I don't know if you've heard, but starting tomorrow we (the citizens of the United States of America) have a new president. As part of my "Countdown to the Inauguration" series, I'd like to point out the series of inaugural poetry commissioned by NPR. You can find it here here. There are three poems, but I'm only going to share the one by Calvin Trillin. I find it a little concerning that I've chosen the one white man in the group, but I like Mr. Trillin because he writes poetry like me - only better. Which is to say his poems have a limited use of literary devices (metaphors are overrated) and you can pretty much figure out what they mean after reading them once. Plus, I find this particular poem pretty impressive because every singly line rhymes with "day."

So here it is:

Inauguration Day: Hooray, Hooray!

Inauguration is the day
The nation's hopes go on display —
When through one man we all convey
Our dream that things will go our way.
His resume we can't gainsay.
In politics, we know, his play
Is worthy of the NBA.
He proved that in the recent fray,
Though he had help from Tina Fey.
And now this solemn matinee
Awards the winner's bright bouquet.

First, Pastor Warren's going to pray
For everyone who isn't gay.
Obama then will stand and say,
"I take this oath that I'll obey
The statutes of the U. S. A."
In his address, he might portray
The dragons he intends to slay:
How Wall Street's sky will turn from gray
To blue as blues are chased away,
How workers will collect good pay
For turning out a Chevrolet,
How in Iraq we'll end our stay
With shortest possible delay,
How pay-to-play will be passe
So K Street suits will not hold sway.
Yes, how we'll triumph, come what may:
We'll rise up like a good souffle
'Til life's just like a cabaret.

Obamacans will shout hooray
And toast their man with Chardonnay
As commentators all make hay
Comparing him to JFK.
The Beltway types, those still blase,
Might think that soon, with some dismay,
We'll wonder if his feet are clay.
But that's all for another day

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