Wednesday, January 20, 2021

A Room of My Own: TrumpFree Day Tanka

the White House
in breezy sunshine
this TrumpFree Day
TV off, I open the window
and my heart to birdsong

my door ajar, moonlight spills in
and the silence slips out

AddedBeing a "polite Canadian," I should write one poem for each of these two Presidents, one dragged kicking out and the other sworn in.

Season Finale written for Trump fans

waving again
as he boards Marine One
at the White House ...
one security guard
side-glances at another 

"we will be back
in some form," a twist
to his mouth ...
gas bubbles oozing
from the Florida swamp

FYI: In the three weeks before the 2016 election, Donald Trump tweeted "Drain the swamp" 79 times, usually as a hashtag, and he tweeted the word "swamp" another 75 times in the four years following that election. And most importantly... and shamelessly, he revoked his administration’s ethics pledge banning political appointees from lobbying their former colleagues in a late-night executive order issued in the final hours of his presidency (Justin Sink, Bloomberg, Jan. 20)


the plane takes off
with My Way blasting --
this TrumpFree day

And now the end is here
And so I face that final curtain
My friend I'll make it clear
I'll state my case, of which I'm certain
I've lived a life that's full
I traveled each and every highway
And more, much more
I did it, I did it my way ...

First Day at a New Job for "Awakening Joe" 

new Oval Office
a bronze bust of César Chávez 
overlooks photos

masked President
behind the Resolute Desk
piles of papers

new cases spike
one million arms ready
in winter light

FYI:  Biden Covid plan pledges 100 million vaccine shots in 100 days.


  1. Amanda Gorman—at 22, the youngest inaugural poet in U.S. history—delivered her poem at the U.S. Capitol:

    "The Hill We Climb"

    Mr. President, Dr. Biden, Madame Vice-President, Mr. Emhoff, Americans and the world,

    When day comes we ask ourselves,
    Where can we find light in this never-ending shade?
    The loss we carry,
    a sea we must wade
    We braved the belly of the beast
    We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace
    And the norms and notions
    of what just is
    Isn’t always just-ice.
    And yet the dawn is ours
    before we knew it
    Somehow we do it
    Somehow we weathered and witnessed
    a nation that isn’t broken
    but simply unfinished
    We the successors of a country and a time
    Where a skinny black girl
    Descended from slaves and raised by a single mother
    Can dream of becoming president
    Only to find herself reciting for one.
    And yes we are far from polished
    far from pristine
    But that doesn’t mean that we are
    striving to form a union that is perfect.
    We are striving to forge our union with purpose
    To compose a country committed to all cultures, colours, characters and
    conditions of man.
    And so we lift our gaze not to what stands between us
    but what stands before us
    We close the divide because we know to put our future first
    We must first put our differences aside
    We lay down our arms
    So we can reach out our arms
    To one another.
    We seek harm to none and harmony for all.
    Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true:
    That even as we grieved, we grew
    That even as we hurt, we hoped
    That even as we tired, we tried.
    That we’ll forever be tied together, victorious.
    Not because we will never again know defeat
    But because we will never again sow division.
    Scripture tells us to envision
    That everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree
    And no one shall make them afraid.
    If we’re to live up to our own time
    Then victory won’t lie in the blade
    But in all the bridges we’ve made
    That is the promise to glade
    The hill we climb
    If only we dare.
    Because being American is more than a pride we inherit
    It’s the past we step into
    And how we repair it.
    We’ve seen a force that would shatter our nation
    Rather than share it
    Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy.
    And this effort very nearly succeeded.
    But while democracy can be periodically delayed,
    it can never be permanently defeated.
    In this truth,
    in this faith we trust
    For while we have our eyes on the future,
    history has its eyes on us.
    This is the era of just redemption.
    We feared at its inception
    We did not feel prepared to be the heirs
    of such a terrifying hour
    but within it we found the power
    to author a new chapter.
    To offer hope and laughter to ourselves.
    So while we once we asked,
    how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe?,
    Now we assert
    How could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?
    We will not march back to what was
    but move to what shall be.
    A country that is bruised but whole,
    benevolent but bold,
    fierce and free.
    We will not be turned around
    or interrupted by intimidation
    because we know our inaction and inertia
    will be the inheritance of the next generation.
    Our blunders become their burdens.
    But one thing is certain;
    If we merge mercy with might,
    and might with right,
    then love becomes our legacy
    and change our children’s birthright.
    So let us leave behind a country
    better than the one we were left with.
    Every breath from my bronze pounded chest,
    we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one.
    We will rise from the gold-limbed hills of the west,
    We will rise from the windswept northeast
    where our forefathers first realized revolution.
    We will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the midwestern states,
    we will rise from the sunbaked south.
    We will rebuild, reconcile and recover
    and every known nook of our nation and
    every corner called our country,
    our people diverse and beautiful will emerge
    battered and beautiful.
    When day comes we step out of the shade,
    aflame and unafraid,
    The new dawn blooms as we free it.
    For there is always light,
    if only we’re brave enough to see it.
    If only we’re brave enough to be it.

  2. Loads and loads of emotions, as if my heart is being stitched by the mind.