Dear Mr. President . . .

[PandoraGlitters]

President's Day Challenge:

Write a letter poem to the President. It could be to Presidents Washington or Lincoln or to President Obama, you pick. For those Literoticans living in countries other than the United States, feel free to still write a letter to the President or you may choose to substitute the world leader of your choice. Have fun with it and, if you are so lucky as to have the day off tomorrow (as I am) have a good holiday. I plan to get a full-body massage in the village tomorrow. Woot! I think the Presidents would all approve.

So what do you think? What would you like to say to

Dear Mr. President . . .

 

[PandoraGlitters]

One example for you

http://poetry.about.com/library/weekly/aa030403n.htm

 

[PandoraGlitters]

(Part 1, Draft)

Dear Mr. President:

We huddled in the fifth floor hallway
we students, we teachers, we Dominican, we African,
we Mexican, we Jewish, we Irish, we hungry,
we fed, we standing, we sitting, we waiting

for the first President who looked
more like most of us
than any other before him
to speak to us about the dawn.

First you spoke about the hardness of the road, the blood on the snow, then light broke,

"We will harness the sun and the winds and the soil to fuel our cars and run our factories. And we will transform our schools and colleges and universities to meet the demands of a new age . . . "

and we believed without knowing how this transformation
would blister our soles for the road is hard. So hard.

The honest managers and teachers circle these problems
looking for a way to squeeze dollars from air
looking for a way to keep their schools open
so the charters don't come because the charters don't want
to teach the kids in this hallway

we who are learning English, we who have never held
a book before fourth grade in this new country, struggling
to write our last name when we are expected to write
five paragraphs of expository text with proper
paragraphing and grammar and source citation.

We struggle. We love and support but even
loving even circling the problem to find
a way in, we feel the gun barrel
at the back of the neck because

there are those others you mentioned

" . . . those who cling to power through corruption
and deceit and the silencing of dissent . . . "

but they are not foreigners. They are just outside,
downstairs at this minute. They have drivers parked
and ready. They have metal men pointing
guns to our heads, emptying our pockets

and passing the plates back to Wal-Mart, back
to Rupert Murdock and Bill Gates and the Koch
brothers as they sign over to us what little
they offer in return.

These boys do not bid. They just demand
and they are given whatever
is demanded because they can. Because they pay
what they pay to people who are not asked again
once they have said yes.

We did not know the road would be so hard nor
how carefully we would have to balance
between the rocks and the gun barrel.

We did not know, but you knew

and you quoted

"Let it be told to the future world that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive, that the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet it."

 

[greenmountaineer]

Yo, Mr. President,

Manny Ramirez, that fucking prick,
Excuse my French, Mr. President,
gets 500K from the Oakland A's,
they give him a one year contract,
after he pumped his veins full of shit
to hit 500 plus home runs,

Hall of Fame, Man, Hall of Fame.
Me? I'm the junkie C Block 11,
3 hots and a cot, 3 to 5,
Have to get my shit together.

Brother, can you spare me the time?

Lou Colón 6467
CA State Prison, San Quentin

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Like the switch of dime to Time, GM.

 

[greenmountaineer]

Like the switch of dime to Time, GM.

Had a brain cramp with the original.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Part two

We have come forth, Mr. President. We have come forth
from our classrooms into the expectant shudder
of the fifth floor hallway with our one Smart
Board set up at the end. Two hundred
and fifty faces (and the same on the fourth
floor and the same on the third
floor and on the second) turn to you,
Mr. President and count ourselves
in when you say we. We

are on the snowy bank with you
and General George wondering
how we can break through this pack
ice that obscures our safe passage.
We blink away the clouds freezing
on our retinas and hope
blindly when we can't that you
can find a way out

of these wars, of these crises
and this plague of greed that does
not pause to pluck any
one from the river but runs right over
all in its wake and we are watching,
Mr. President, still watching
Guantanamo and quoting you

on every cell phone, confident
our government hears us,
writes down the words

"As for our common defense, we reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals."

"As for our common defense, we reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals."

"As for our common defense, we reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals."

 

[Angeline]

Dora, since you asked here it is circa 2008.



Dear Barack,

I’m going to speak with you frankly,
like a Dutch uncle though I’m neither
uncle nor Dutch. And I’m going to call
you Barack for one more day. I’m sure
you won’t mind what with those emails
we’ve exchanged and our relationship
having grown somewhat more
intimate after I sent you that money.

We’ve shared hopes and dreams
I told you the Clintons were race-baiting,
that I really don’t think our society
is post-racial. You said don’t worry about it.

You said that a lot, and I’m trying
but I didn’t grow up in Hawaii
or Indonesia, I'm from a small town,
I know how small-town people can be.
Some of us would cross the street
if they saw you coming and some
of us won’t be satisfied until
you walk across the Potomac.

So I do worry about you
and that beautiful family of yours.
I’ll even send more money if you want.
There can't be enough protection,
and for God’s sake watch yourself.
Our hopes are too high and I worry.

I think about Dallas and Los Angeles,
I think about Birmingham.

And keep your sense of humor
Lord knows we’ll take everything else
away and age you at least 20 years
in the next four.

I recommend jazz
for relaxation and maybe
keep hanging out with Stevie Wonder.
He sees a lot more
than most people realize.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Thanks, Ange! Making my way over to the 007 eventually this afternoon. I do love your letter to Barack. Great advice.