Making Poetry from Your Politics

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Brian Lehrer: Brian Lehrer on WNYC. With our politics so polarized and the future of our democracy hanging in the balance, how do we find a way to connect across our red, blue borders? If our political parties and our social media outlets aren't going to help us, what will? Well, my next guests have an idea. Poetry. Can we share our stories and our beliefs in a way that fosters connection through poems?

Steve Zeitlin and Bob Holman are here to talk about their poetry collection in the making All the Voices: Where I'm From – Politically. Taking inspiration from Kentucky poet, George Ella Lyon's poem, Where I'm From, they're asking people, including you, our listeners, to trace the roots of your politics and your lived experience and write a poem about it. They'll be joined by two contributors here in this segment to demonstrate their idea because they want you to get involved too, and we'll tell you how.

Steve Zeitlin is the founding director of CityLore and author of The Poetry of Everyday Life: Storytelling and the Art of Awareness. He's been on the show many times as some of you know with various projects all centered on the idea that each of us has a story to share, and it's the grassroots contribution to our shared culture that matters.

Bob Holman is a poet, filmmaker, and the proprietor of the Bowery Poetry Club. He's also been on the show many times among other things. He was the original slam master and a director of the Nuyorican Poets Café and the producer of the United States of Poetry for PBS. Steve, Bob, welcome back, both of you, to WNYC. Hi.

Bob Holman: Great to be here.

Steve Zeitlin: Thanks for having us, Brian.

Brian Lehrer: Bob, you want to start? Tell us about the idea and this poem that inspired you.

Bob Holman: Well, of course, it's totally utopian and crazy to think that we could find an anthology that is going to get people to cross the great divide and start speaking to each other. We are using a fantastic model by George Ella Lyon from Harlan, Kentucky, which just happens to be my hometown as well. George Ella, former poet laureate of Kentucky, wrote Where I'm From, that starts like this, "I am from clothespins, from Clorox and carbon-tetrachloride." That's because she grew up in the back of her family's dry-cleaning store.

What people are going to do is look back into their past and see how did your political beliefs come out of your family and your home?

George Ella continues "I'm from dirt under the back porch. It tasted like beets. I'm from the know-it-alls and the pass-it-ons from perk up and pipe down. He restored my soul with a cotton ball lamb and 10 verses I can say myself." If you were raised in a Kentucky Pentecostal church, you'd know exactly where those beliefs were coming from, the cotton ball lamb. We've put out a call for everyone to join in. If you get your poem published, you get $50, and Steve has all the information about it.

Brian Lehrer: We're going to go to a couple of poets who have made contributions, who are going to share them with us here on the show in just a couple of minutes. You've even given me one to read a section of. We'll get to that. Steve, by centering the path we've taken to our political beliefs in this project, do you think we can wind up less knee-jerk in our rejection of, "your side versus my side"?

Steve Zeitlin: I think so. We started out just, how do we figure out a way to cross the great divide between Republicans and Democrats? When we first sent out a call for poems, we start to realize that everything we were getting was very individualistic. It wasn't just that people were Democrats or Republicans or independents. It was that their father had voted for Nixon and then their grandfather for somebody else.

Through the years, their beliefs had been shaped, oftentimes, by a particular personal experience. When you see the poems, you realize the country is not made up of Democrats and Republicans and independents, but it's made up of 300 million individual stories of how people came to believe what they believe. I think if we can get to that individual side of people, we might be able to make a difference in the world. What better way to do it than to ask people to write accessible short poems, that capture where they're coming from politically, and then to find ways to share those?

Brian Lehrer: Let me do this short reading as a segue out of that, that you sent to me to do. You sent us a poem by Cherie Karo Schwartz of Denver and asked me to read the first stanza. I'm going to do that. Again, I guess all your participants are asking the question, "Where are you from?" Bob, I was so taken with the one you cited before, where they didn't say, "I'm from Denver," or, "I'm from Miami." It was-- what was it? "I'm from clothespins, I'm from Clorox." Was that that one?

Bob Holman: Exactly, and carbon tetrachloride. Hey, Brian, I can hardly wait for you to read this poem because I always thought this is really a new career for you, is a poet. Hearing your voice today, I know we'll inspire the audience to write a few poems themselves.

Brian Lehrer: This one from Cherie Karo Schwartz from Denver, where is she from? She writes, "I am from standing next to my mom in her flower dress and white pumps in the late 1950s, as she lets little me into the voting booth and I am silent, wide-eyed. I stand up taller, metallic snap of the curtain rod on metal closure, smell of the heavy curtain. She lets me pull the tabs to vote her vote, click, click, and I hear her say, 'Remember, baby doll, voting is a privilege. You have the chance to help America.'"

[laughter]

Bob Holman: The birth of democracy. Patriotism lives.

Brian Lehrer: Do you think that the poet there is contrasting her voting origin story, if you will, with what's going on today with faith in elections?

Bob Holman: Absolutely. Those "click, click," voting machines, really analog voting machines, get around a lot of the problems now and maybe we should bring them back. No, please. New York has such awful old voting machines. Yes. That's what she's doing. She's saying, if you really look into the essence of where the power can come from and take it yourself like her mom was teaching her, then-- That's really the big problem with the country, isn't it? That everybody doesn't vote. Of course, what's going on now in Congress really points to that. If we have an image of a little girl inside the booth there, maybe that's one way to open up people's visions. I don't know.

Brian Lehrer: Before we go to the two contributors we have on the line who are going to read their poems. Steve, you want to just tell our listeners how they can contribute or participate? We'll tell it again at the end, but why don't you tease this right now? What can our listeners do after the show?

Steve Zeitlin: The email that you need to send your poem to is very simple, poetry@citylore.org. That's poetry@citylore-C-I-T-Y-L-O-R-E-dot-O-R-G. You can also ask questions, you'll see the directions there and on the WNYC website. Please, do get in touch with us. We will talk you through the poems if we have to. We really want to make this work, and only you guys can help make it work.

The other impetus for this was a foundation interested in actually building empathy in the United States, The Acton Foundation, and they've taken as their mission, building empathy across America. They're part of the reason why we are taking the poem mobile on the road and collecting these poems and trying to use creativity to make a difference.

Brian Lehrer: Taking the poem mobile on the road. The prompt listeners, if you're being inspired to submit a poem to this, the prompt is that the poems must begin with, "I am from," the words, "I am from." Use, "I am from," at least one more time during the poem. You can start getting your heads around that.

A few people are calling in. We're not asking for you to be instant poets, but maybe we'll have time to take some calls with whatever you want to chime in on this. 212-433 WNYC. 212-433-9692. Maybe share a memory from your childhood that you think is part of where you are from politically. Meanwhile, we have a couple of poets on the line to share their contributions. Up first, Kieran Coughlan. Kieran, welcome to WNYC. Thanks for joining us.

Kieran Coughlan: Hello, Steve, Bob. How are you doing, Brian?

Brian Lehrer: Doing great. We're going to hear your poem about where you're from politically, but do you want to tell us a little bit first about where you are now? I think you're in Yonkers, maybe.

Kieran Coughlan: I am in Yonkers. I am dealing with Steve and Bob for the last couple of years. I work on a PoeMobile. They're two excellent guys. They're funny guys. They're very high-society. Me and my partner, John call them. They're great to talk to. They're very knowledgeable and they get a kick out of myself and my partner, John. We're very, I guess, garden variety people you could say. Talking to Steven and Bob, we have a really good time. We really enjoy them a lot. Good people.

Brian Lehrer: Just to give you a plug here, I gather you own H & C Truck Repair in Yonkers, right?

Kieran Coughlan: Yes. I have a wonderful partner, my best friend, John. We have a great operation. We have 10 employees, eight technicians. We serviced throughout the whole complete pandemic. We didn't close one day. We made sure those trucks kept rolling, to service America, and we're very proud of that.

Brian Lehrer: I can tell already. If I ever own a truck and it ever breaks down, I'm going to you. Meanwhile, let's hear your poem.

Kieran Coughlan: Are you ready? Here we go. This is called I Am From.

I'm from the youngest of 11 children around the fireplace to keep warm.

I am from $40 every two weeks to feed 11 kids.

I am from four brothers who raised the right arms at JFK Airport to go to Vietnam.

I am coming from [unintelligible 00:11:41] Ireland.

I am from the Bronx where I had to fight a lot because I was bullied and taunted by my own kind,

because of my accent and my name.

There was not a lot of Kierans back in those days until I got a beating from a tomboy.

My Jersey still hangs in the gym till this day.

I'm from smoking marijuana to slow me down, to learn how to read and write.

I am from a father that died and left me a strong back and a will to work.

I am from the bars of the Bronx where we were all poets.

I am from a party in Manhattan where I was looked at funny because I was straight.

I am from a therapeutic community, Daytop Village, not a rehab.

I am from Dublin, Ireland, but America is my home.

I am from things I remember and things I'd like to forget.

I'm sure you have a lot of questions and I have all the answers.

That's where I'm from. Thank you.

Brian Lehrer: Thank you. That was awesome. What made you want to share your story?

Kieran Coughlan: Well, my partner and everybody met me, he always said I was a poet. My father was a great poet, I guess a little bit of him rubbed off on me, but Bob and Steve had told me about this project a couple years ago. I wrote it down and I had to clean it up a little bit, but these are just things in my life. There's a lot of questions about it. They asked me to come on the show and I had to say yes, because, like I said, they're really wonderful people.

Brian Lehrer: That's great.

Kieran Coughlan: That's my struggle.

Brian Lehrer: Thank you so much.

Kieran Coughlan: I'm doing very well today. Thank you.

Brian Lehrer: As I say goodbye to you, I'm going to say your name properly. It's Kieran Coughlan, right?

Kieran Coughlan: That's correct.

Brian Lehrer: Kieran, thank you so much. We're going to go on to the other contributor who we have here. Simba Sandra Yangala. Tell me if I mispronounced your name, and welcome to WNYC.

Simba Sandra Yangala: Thank you, John. Thank you, Steve and Bob. Kieran, beautiful poem. Oh, you pronounced my name right.

Brian Lehrer: Good. I'm glad. Got lucky. You immigrated to the US as a teenager from the Democratic Republic of Congo, I see. Do you want to read your poem?

Simba Sandra Yangala: Yes. I came from the Democratic Republic of Congo. I don't say Zaire anymore because I'll get corrected.

Brian Lehrer: We are all ears for your poem.

Simba Sandra Yangala: Bullet Holes and Bullet One.

I am from the "I don't know the year I was born in and I won't even ask my mother about it."

It was once said that my father wrote the wrong year to justify his affair with my stepmother.

Where I'm from my, maternal clan has stories of conflict from the dispute over beef kidneys,

to the curse supposedly placed on my family lineage.

My mother was not to be told about it.

I experienced life in cities and villages alongside my father's political career.

I was born a woman of blue blood inheritance predisposition.

Where I'm from, I'm still running from the sound of bullets and bomb dropping.

I'm from the treadmill of survivor skills,

from running all the way to New York city.

I decided to call it my country, but even here one day during Christmas festivities,

I find a couple dozen bullet holes in the door to the lobby.

Bullets seem to be following where I go.

I am from where I'm from, imperialism, colonized land,

democracy proclaim religious freedom without questioning, "How free is it?"

I am from "My thinking has evolved."

Now I reason that dictatorship is just another form of government, neither better, no worse than democracy.

Brian Lehrer: Wow. That is a heavy way to end. What a contrast to the first poem I read about the girl being from going to the voting booth as a little kid with her mom. Why did you want to share that? Why did you want to share that last line that your thinking has evolved that maybe dictatorship is just another form of government, neither better nor worse than democracy.

Simba Sandra Yangala: As I said, I was born in Zaire, which is now the Democratic Public of Congo. The person who was the leader of Zaire was Mobutu and Mobutu is known as the greatest dictator of all time, but at the same time, during that time in Zaire, it was the most quiet, peaceful time growing up in Zaire. Right now it's turbulent and that was dictatorship. Dictatorship was quiet, mellow, and people had beautiful life.

Now it's called The Democratic Republic of Congo and it's so troubling, so much worse, so unrest-ness. You have way more refugees coming from the Democratic Public of Congo, including me, struggling in other countries way to find themselves. I have few Congolese friends that I put on my advocacy for immigration and we're still struggling. Zaire was dictatorship, which is seen like-- you hear anybody, they will tell you, "Dictatorship is bad, it's terrible." I keep remembering that it was quiet when I was growing up.

There was no bomb dropping. The bomb came in with the Democratic Republic of Congo. I think in my childhood, hearing bombs during democracy and hearing quiet during dictatorship, I recently said, "What's better?" I just said, "I don't think it's as worse as people say, it's just another form of government," that-

Brian Lehrer: Maybe it depends on-

Simba Sandra Yangala: -it may not work from other people, but it definitely may work for some others.

Brian Lehrer: Simba Sandra Yangala. Thank you very much for sharing your poem and your thinking with us. Bob Holman and Steve Zeitlin. We've got about a minute left in the show. What a contrast between Kieran and Simba. What does it represent about the whole project?

Bob Holman: Well, democracy is messy, but when you get those poems down on the page, Brian and they have all the line breaks corrected and you can just read it off, maybe we'll have a chance to hear which side of the mess you're on, but whichever side, it's a mess. Make it a poem, pass it on.

Brian Lehrer: Steve, you want to say one more time.

Steve Zeitlin: As one poet said, "Well, I'm not from the political middle, I'm from the political muddle." If you want to send your poems to us, all you have to do is send them or send questions to poetry@citylore.org, poetry@- C-I-T-Y-L-O-R-E dot O-R-G. If we used a poem in the anthology, you'll get $50, and we look forward to hearing from you, whatever your politics is. As one person said in one of her poems, "I am a regular American who knows we can do better."

Brian Lehrer: Bob Holman and Steve Zeitlin. Bob Holman is President of the Bowery Poetry Club and Producer of the United States of Poetry for PBS. Steve Zeitlin is the founding director of City Lore and author of the recent book, The Poetry of Everyday Life. Thank you, both. Again, one more time, send your poems that start, "I am from," to poetry@citylore.org by September 30th. Good luck with it.

 

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