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Rhi Bowman

Freelance Writer/ Student

Rhi (pronounced Ree) B. is short for Rhiannon Bowman. Rhi B. is me. I’m a young woman– a newly wed, mother of two spoiled rotten cats and student– working hard to get out of college and on with the business of freelance writing. Trading money for words is a lifelong dream. After allowing...

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Barack, the Poet

I have something awful to admit

I haven’t read any of Barack’s books. (Though I did just realize with the start of this sentence he’s the first president I feel like I’m on a first-name basis with.) I have heard good things, I have seen people toting them at rallies-- hoping for a signature. I have been told countless times I should read them. I have heard-- from media critics, regular readers and non-readers alike-- he is as good of a writer as he is a speaker. And, I will read his books, pinkie swear, as soon as my professors stop torturing me with boring text books.

Those of us who write know writing well takes a lot of hard work. Writing might be an impulse and some are able to write well with ease, but all good writing takes a lot of hard work. So, add this fact-- his ability and willingness to write well-- to the why-I-like-Barack column.

I learned something new today, though: Barack is also a poet. I suppose I should have known this, The New York Times republished some of his poetry back in May, but with everything else going on I missed that tidbit.

Poetry, to me, is daunting. I would love to call myself a poet, like my friend Emily A. Benton*, but the form intimidates me. Like any other type of writing, poetry is a process... and, in my mind, a painful one.

Sure, some people can slap a few words on the page and call them a poem. But, I believe the purpose of poetry is much deeper than that; I believe the purpose of poetry is to stir us, deep within. I believe poetry is like any other form of art, it’s a special conversation between the creator and the consumer-- it’s a secret understanding, because every consumer has the right to understand a piece in a different way.

Sometimes you read a poem and think you’ve got it: you know exactly what the poet means. They paint a picture so vibrant you feel as if you are standing with them in the scene. But, sometimes you read a poem and you’re like, “What the hell? I don’t get it.” Sometimes it takes a while for the meaning to sink in, sometimes you’ll only understand after you read it over and over and then, on the 15th time, you think, “Yeah,” and nod.

Today I read two of our new president’s poems for the first time. I’m sure there are hundreds more where these came from since poets often can’t help themselves from writing, writing, writing all the time. At the end of the first-- me, the daughter of an absent father and step-daughter of a drunk pig-- I thought, “Yeah.” The second one, though, I’m going to have to revisit.

Here, you read them and tell me what you think of our poet president:

The Poetry of BarackObama

Have you read Barack’s books? If so, what do you think?

 * Read Emily’s poem, Body Surf, in Keyhole Magazine here.