Homage To My Hips

these hips are big hips.
they need space to
move around in.
they don’t fit into little
petty places. these hips
are free hips.
they don’t like to be held back.
these hips have never been enslaved,
they go where they want to go
they do what they want to do.
these hips are mighty hips.
these hips are magic hips.
i have known them
to put a spell on a man and
spin him like a top

– Lucille Clifton

Postscript:

I couldn’t help but laugh out loud the first time I read/heard this poem. She has such a combination of defiance, mischief and self-confidence in her tone that you want to throw all that brainwashing that comes at all of us out the window. Eating disorders are a serious issue, and typically get triggered in adolescence – for more information, go here and here.

Tagged: , , , , ,

Published:
April 30, 2011 – 08:00
Author:
By Madhu
Categories:
Comments:
None

The Ballad of Sigmund Freud

Well, it started in Vienna not so many years ago
When not enough folks were getting sick
A starving young physician tried to better his position
By discovering what made his patients tick
He forgot about sterosis and invented the psychosis
And a hundred ways that sex could be enjoyed
He adopted as his credo “down repression of libido!”
And that was the start of Doctor Sigmund Freud

Well, Doctor Freud, oh Doctor Freud
How we wish you had been differently employed
But the set of circumstances
Still enhances the finances
of the followers of Doctor Sigmund Freud

Well, he analyzed the dreams of the teens and libertines
Substituted monologue for pills
He drew crowds just like Will Sadler
When along came Jung and Adler
And they said by God, there’s gold in them there ills!
They encountered no resistance
When they served as Freud’s assistants
As with ego and with id they deftly toyed
But instead of toting bedpans
They wore analytic deadpans
Those ambitious doctors Adler, Jung and Freud!

Well, Doctor Freud, oh Doctor Freud
How we wish you had been differently employed
But the set of circumstances
Still enhances the finances
of the followers of Doctor Sigmund Freud

Now the big three have departed
But not so the code the started
No, it’s being carried on by a goodly band
And to trauma shock and force us
Someone’s gone and added Rorschach
And the whole thing’s got completely out of hand!
So old boys with double chinsies
And a thousand would-be Kinseys
They discuss it at the drop of a repression
And I wouldn’t be complaining
But for all the loot I’m paying
Just to lie on someone’s couch and say confession!

Well, Doctor Freud, oh Doctor Freud
How we wish you had been differently employed
But the set of circumstances
Still enhances the finances
of the followers of Doctor Sigmund Freud

– Harry Belafonte

Postscript:

Harry Belafonte is a singer, actor, activist and humanitarian whose views and statements are often seen as controversial. Read more about him here.
You can hear The Ballad of Sigmund Freud here.

Tagged: , , , ,

Published:
April 22, 2011 – 08:00
Author:
By Madhu
Categories:
Comments:
None

Fifteen, Maybe Sixteen Things to Worry About

My pants could maybe fall down when I dive off the diving board.
My nose could maybe keep growing and never quit.
Miss Brearly could ask me to spell words like stomach and special.
(Stumick and speshul?)
I could play tag all day and always be “it.”
Jay Spievack, who’s fourteen feet tall, could want to fight me.
My mom and my dad–like Ted’s–could want a divorce.
Miss Brearly could ask me a question about Afghanistan.
(Who’s Afghanistan?)
Somebody maybe could make me ride a horse.
My mother could maybe decide that I needed more liver.
My dad could decide that I needed less TV.
Miss Brearly could say that I have to write script and stop printing.
(I’m better at printing.)
Chris could decide to stop being friends with me.

The world could maybe come to an end on next Tuesday.
The ceiling could maybe come crashing on my head.
I maybe could run out of things for me to worry about.
And then I’d have to do my homework instead.

– Judith Viorst

Postscript:

Ah, the things we used to worry about. And I don’t say this in a patronizing fashion, nodding my head and saying, “Kids!”. The concerns the narrator has are real, and remind us that childhood is not one long lazy dream however much nostalgia clouds our picture of how it was.
This is a poem that is light-hearted in tone, and starts and finishes that way but addresses some serious concerns before it’s done.
You can read more about Judith Viorst, here.

Tagged: , ,

Published:
April 8, 2011 – 08:00
Author:
By Madhu
Categories:
Comments:
1 Comment