Am I the only one? (33)
DazzleYou: Am I the only one that though Aretha Franklin was strangling a cat during her rendition at the inauguration?
Am I the only one that went into a daze as the poet read her poem, thinking that perhaps I was actually in a coma?
Am I the only one that went into a daze as the poet read her poem, thinking that perhaps I was actually in a coma?
No you're not... I didn't care much for Ms Franklin's performance... she wasn't at her best JMO
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DazzleYou: Am I the only one that though Aretha Franklin was strangling a cat during her rendition at the inauguration?
Am I the only one that went into a daze as the poet read her poem, thinking that perhaps I was actually in a coma?
Am I the only one that went into a daze as the poet read her poem, thinking that perhaps I was actually in a coma?
Yesterday and for a number of days ahead - it's gonna be alot about the first black president in America.
It's a great thing that happened , and for those of us who can't relate to or appreciate black culture - we all need to embrace it and come together as one people.
Our strength and recovery is going to be how well we do this together !
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I think that her performance was fantastic. You have to remember it was cold, she isn't very young and she was probably a little nervous about this being broadcast live around the world with a gazzilion people watching. .
Not so keen on the poem.
Not so keen on the poem.
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I'm with you Dazzle. I though both were horrible. But Aretha Franklin is an icon to some. Did you notice the grandmother falling asleep while Obama's daughter was taking pics of him?
That was more entertaining to me.
The poem, I'm sure someone found it beautiful, just like a painting. Out of all those people and the television broadcast, there has to be some fans. 
That was more entertaining to me. The poem, I'm sure someone found it beautiful, just like a painting. Out of all those people and the television broadcast, there has to be some fans. ------ This thread is Archived ------
DazzleYou: Am I the only one that though Aretha Franklin was strangling a cat during her rendition at the inauguration?
Am I the only one that went into a daze as the poet read her poem, thinking that perhaps I was actually in a coma?
Might have been a case of trying too hard.Am I the only one that went into a daze as the poet read her poem, thinking that perhaps I was actually in a coma?
Seems to be pretty common among some aging Stars.
Don't know when to fold up and walk away!
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DazzleYou: Am I the only one that though Aretha Franklin was strangling a cat during her rendition at the inauguration?
Am I the only one that went into a daze as the poet read her poem, thinking that perhaps I was actually in a coma?
I agree she butchered the song,and i was just confused by the poem.lolAm I the only one that went into a daze as the poet read her poem, thinking that perhaps I was actually in a coma?
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jeepers: I think that her performance was fantastic. You have to remember it was cold, she isn't very young and she was probably a little nervous about this being broadcast live around the world with a gazzilion people watching. .
Not so keen on the poem.
Not so keen on the poem.
I thought her performance also was quite good, however, I didn't see it from start to finish. What I heard I enjoyed.
I left the room when the poem came on. Kinda found it to be
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DazzleYou: Am I the only one that though Aretha Franklin was strangling a cat during her rendition at the inauguration?
Am I the only one that went into a daze as the poet read her poem, thinking that perhaps I was actually in a coma?
Am I the only one that went into a daze as the poet read her poem, thinking that perhaps I was actually in a coma?
I have to say I missed Aretha but when I heard the poem announced I sat down to listen and nodded off.........My kids could hav done better I think...........
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DazzleYou: Am I the only one that though Aretha Franklin was strangling a cat during her rendition at the inauguration?
Am I the only one that went into a daze as the poet read her poem, thinking that perhaps I was actually in a coma?
Am I the only one that went into a daze as the poet read her poem, thinking that perhaps I was actually in a coma?
This is absolutely horrible of me to say, but I could have sworn that the poetry reader was 'special needs' in some way. There was just something really really odd about the way she was reading, let alone the poem content. She made me very nervous listening to her.
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I recorded it on the dvr and skipped through the parts I didn't like. 
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She wasn't special needs and is apparently a well known writer.
I just didn't get it, and I am someone who can be moved by words.
I felt the same about Obama's speech. While it had its moments, nothing really grabbed me.
I was waiting for an Ask not what your country can do for you type moment, and it just never came.
One person interviewed on one of the news sites said it was like God was talking.
I didn't get that at all.
I do have to say, the part where he and Roberts flubbed it up was humorous. You know they both had to be nervous as hell with 14.6 gajillion people watching.
I did like the string ensemble though.
I just didn't get it, and I am someone who can be moved by words.
I felt the same about Obama's speech. While it had its moments, nothing really grabbed me.
I was waiting for an Ask not what your country can do for you type moment, and it just never came.
One person interviewed on one of the news sites said it was like God was talking.
I didn't get that at all.
I do have to say, the part where he and Roberts flubbed it up was humorous. You know they both had to be nervous as hell with 14.6 gajillion people watching.
I did like the string ensemble though.
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immanuelle: This is absolutely horrible of me to say, but I could have sworn that the poetry reader was 'special needs' in some way. There was just something really really odd about the way she was reading, let alone the poem content. She made me very nervous listening to her.
well shows you how much i know, i miss the whole bloody lot, tennis was on, and that's far more important, seems i live in oz,,, but will say, I'm so proud, that finally, the blacks are coming on top... and what a great entrance to it...
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DazzleYou: She wasn't special needs and is apparently a well known writer.
I just didn't get it, and I am someone who can be moved by words.
I felt the same about Obama's speech. While it had its moments, nothing really grabbed me.
I was waiting for an Ask not what your country can do for you type moment, and it just never came.
One person interviewed on one of the news sites said it was like God was talking.
I didn't get that at all.
I do have to say, the part where he and Roberts flubbed it up was humorous. You know they both had to be nervous as hell with 14.6 gajillion people watching.I did like the string ensemble though.
I just didn't get it, and I am someone who can be moved by words.
I felt the same about Obama's speech. While it had its moments, nothing really grabbed me.
I was waiting for an Ask not what your country can do for you type moment, and it just never came.
One person interviewed on one of the news sites said it was like God was talking.
I didn't get that at all.
I do have to say, the part where he and Roberts flubbed it up was humorous. You know they both had to be nervous as hell with 14.6 gajillion people watching.I did like the string ensemble though.
Yea, got to give you that one ...... speach didn't have any memorable outstanding words or phrases that we'll remember.
I think this one he wrote himself - bet he'll let his speach writer help him in the future.........
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DazzleYou: She wasn't special needs and is apparently a well known writer.
I just didn't get it, and I am someone who can be moved by words.
I felt the same about Obama's speech. While it had its moments, nothing really grabbed me.
I was waiting for an Ask not what your country can do for you type moment, and it just never came.
One person interviewed on one of the news sites said it was like God was talking.
I didn't get that at all.
I do have to say, the part where he and Roberts flubbed it up was humorous. You know they both had to be nervous as hell with 14.6 gajillion people watching.I did like the string ensemble though.
I just didn't get it, and I am someone who can be moved by words.
I felt the same about Obama's speech. While it had its moments, nothing really grabbed me.
I was waiting for an Ask not what your country can do for you type moment, and it just never came.
One person interviewed on one of the news sites said it was like God was talking.
I didn't get that at all.
I do have to say, the part where he and Roberts flubbed it up was humorous. You know they both had to be nervous as hell with 14.6 gajillion people watching.I did like the string ensemble though.
The string ensemble was truly beautiful. What I loved about it was watching the pure joy on Yoyo Ma's (sp?) face.
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Jessamine: The string ensemble was truly beautiful. What I loved about it was watching the pure joy on Yoyo Ma's (sp?) face.
I sure would love to see that same look on your face darlin
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jvaski: I sure would love to see that same look on your face darlin
Keep dreamin, sweetie. ------ This thread is Archived ------
Here is the poem. I enjoyed it more reading it on my own.
(Am I breaking copywrite laws for copying it?)
Praise song for the day.
Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others' eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair.
Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice. A woman and her son wait for the bus. A farmer considers the changing sky; A teacher says, "Take out your pencils. Begin."
We encounter each other in words, words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed; words to consider, reconsider. We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, "I need to see what's on the other side; I know there's something better down the road." We need to find a place where we are safe; We walk into that which we cannot yet see. Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of. Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables. Some live by "Love thy neighbor as thy self." Others by first do no harm, or take no more than you need. What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance. In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun. On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp -- praise song for walking forward in that light. By Elizabeth Alexander
(Am I breaking copywrite laws for copying it?)
Praise song for the day.
Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others' eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair.
Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice. A woman and her son wait for the bus. A farmer considers the changing sky; A teacher says, "Take out your pencils. Begin."
We encounter each other in words, words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed; words to consider, reconsider. We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, "I need to see what's on the other side; I know there's something better down the road." We need to find a place where we are safe; We walk into that which we cannot yet see. Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of. Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables. Some live by "Love thy neighbor as thy self." Others by first do no harm, or take no more than you need. What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance. In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun. On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp -- praise song for walking forward in that light. By Elizabeth Alexander
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I agree.
Reading it is much better. her delivery sucked.
Reading it is much better. her delivery sucked.
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immanuelle: Here is the poem. I enjoyed it more reading it on my own.
(Am I breaking copywrite laws for copying it?)
Praise song for the day.
Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others' eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair.
Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice. A woman and her son wait for the bus. A farmer considers the changing sky; A teacher says, "Take out your pencils. Begin."
We encounter each other in words, words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed; words to consider, reconsider. We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, "I need to see what's on the other side; I know there's something better down the road." We need to find a place where we are safe; We walk into that which we cannot yet see. Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of. Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables. Some live by "Love thy neighbor as thy self." Others by first do no harm, or take no more than you need. What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance. In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun. On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp -- praise song for walking forward in that light. By Elizabeth Alexander
(Am I breaking copywrite laws for copying it?)
Praise song for the day.
Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others' eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair.
Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice. A woman and her son wait for the bus. A farmer considers the changing sky; A teacher says, "Take out your pencils. Begin."
We encounter each other in words, words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed; words to consider, reconsider. We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, "I need to see what's on the other side; I know there's something better down the road." We need to find a place where we are safe; We walk into that which we cannot yet see. Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of. Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables. Some live by "Love thy neighbor as thy self." Others by first do no harm, or take no more than you need. What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance. In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun. On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp -- praise song for walking forward in that light. By Elizabeth Alexander
Is this poetry, or prose???
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Am I the only one that went into a daze as the poet read her poem, thinking that perhaps I was actually in a coma?