Exercise #8: Political Poems

Read "Harlem" by Langston Hughes (100-101) and "Barbie Doll" by Marge Piercy (131-132). Many other countries view poetry as political as well as personal.  Write a poem about a social or political event or issue. Use concrete images, not abstractions.

 

A POEM LIKE A GRENADE

It is made to be rolled down

a flight of stairs,

placed under a guilty hat,

or casually dropped into a basket

among the desks

of the stolid statesmen.

As it tumbles on the carpeted stairs

it settles quietly in its wire-wicker nest,

it begins to unfold,

a ragged flower whose raw petals

burn and scar ...

its wastepaper soil catches fire,

the hat is blown from its hook,

five or six faces are suddenly,

permanently altered ...

those minds are changed for good.

There will be many poems written

in the shape of a grenade--

from the hard bits of metal given off

even a government

might catch its death.

- John Haines, in Just What the Country Needs, Another Poetry Anthology

 

---

Poem for George Helm

Aloha Week 1980

 

I was in love with the word "aloha"

Even though I heard it over and over

I let the syllables ring in my ears

and I believed the king with outstretched hand

was welcoming everyone who wanted to live here

And I ignored the spear in his left hand

believing instead my fellow humans

and their love for these islands in the world

which allow us to rest from the currents

and moods of that vast ocean from which we all came

But George Helm’s body is back in that ocean

I want to believe in the greatness of his spirit

that he still feels the meaning of that word

which is getting so hard to say

 

I thought there was hope for the word "aloha"

I believed when they said there are ways

in this modern technological world Oahu alone

could hold a million people

And we would become the Great Crossroads of the Pacific

if we used our native aloha spirit

our friendly wahines and our ancient hulas

They showed us our enormous potential

and we learned to love it

like a man who loves some thing in gold or silver

But these islands are made of lava and trees and sand

A man learns to swim with the ocean

and when he’s tired he begins to search

for what he loves, for what will sustain him

George Helm is lost at sea

The bombing practice continues on Kahoolawe

I want to believe in what he was seeking

I want to believe that he is still swimming

toward that aina for which he feels

that word which is so hard to say

 

I want to believe in the word

But Brother George doesn’t say it

He doesn’t sing it in his smooth falsetto

in the melodies of aloha aina

There is no chance of seeing him walk up to the stage

pick up his guitar and smile the word at you across the room

The tourists, they twist their malihini tongues

The tour guides mouth it with smog-filled lungs

Politicians keep taking it out, dusting off the carcass

of a once-proud 3-syllable guaranteed vote-getter

You find its ghosts on dump trucks, magazines

airplanes, rent-a-cars

anywhere they want the dollar

They can sell you anything with aloha and a smile

even pineapples that came here from

(you guessed it) America!

They’ll sell you too, servants of the USA

And if you don’t believe they have the nerve

think of the ocean

They put up signs as close as they dare

And when his spirit comes back to land

the first thing he’ll see is a big sign with that word

painted on, carved in, flashing with electricity

That word, so hard to say

 

I was going to believe that word

I was going to believe all those corporations

that seemed to spring up like mushrooms after a light rain

I was going to believe when they divided up

the home-land of a living people

and called it real estate     or 50th state

or     Aloha State

I was going to believe we would still be able

to go up to the mountains, out to the country beaches

to the ocean where waves wash the islands

the    islands which remind us we’ve all traveled a long way to get here

We all wanted a garden of our own in the world

We believed we’d all have peace

(and a piece of the aloha and of the state if we worked for it)

We’re all pursuing the same dream!

So many of us are trying to get to the mountains, the beaches

So many trying to swim in the waves

legs kicking, arms paddling like the arms

of George Helm stroking towards a familiar beach

which he respected and belonged to by birth

for which he felt something no word can express

except for that word which is hard to say

unless we all live it!

 

I want to live the word "aloha"

But the body of George Helm is lost at sea

the practice continues on Kahoolawe

the buildings follow the roads

the roads carry thousands of cars filled with people

following their dreams of Hawaii or Paradise

to Waikiki where girls sell their hips

singers sell their voices

the island which has been sold is lit up all night

while the king with outstretched hand

has forgotten how to use his spear

George Helm is dead

and that word is not forgotten

It rings in my ears every day

I want us to live the word "aloha"

but it’s so hard just to say

 

 

by Eric Chock

in The Best of Bamboo Ridge, 1986