The Democratic Republic of Poetry

By David Glick 

     It will be a grand and glorious day

when the poets of America

renounce their citizenship

over the failure of our fawning subservient government

to do the work of the people

rather than that of the monied elite

and in its place boldly proclaim the birth

of the Democratic Republic of Poetry.

    Cries of hosanna will reverberate throughout the land    

while the mega corporations will tremble

before the wit and power

of the poet’s pen and spoken word

and the super rich will huddle together in confusion

trying to make sense of this uprising of the spirit.

     The feckless politicians will have fled the land

and a multi-colored flag with the word imagine

blazoned across a background of green

will flutter proudly over the commons.

     School children will crowd into the public square

to await these new heroes of the revolution

who will arrive in rickety old school buses

gaily decorated with flowers and trees

and the poetry of Rumi and Hafiz

Rilke and Whitman

Carl Sandburg and Langston Hughes, 

Billy Collins, Mary Oliver and Rita Dove.

     Balloons and kites will tussle playfully in the air   

and horses will kick up their heels

as a marching band trumpets blaring

welcomes the new day.

     In the Democratic Republic of Poetry

immigrants will be celebrated

for their rich culture and hard work

and their unique ways of engaging the world.

     In the Democratic Republic of Poetry

school children will learn verses before numbers

will plant gardens and dig in the earth

and learn history as seen from the view

of workers and farmers

the enslaved and colonized

and those whom history has marginalized.

Poets, nurses, gardeners and craftsmen

will be lauded for helping us to weave together

the threads of our common humanity.

     In the Democratic Republic of Poetry

scraps of verse scattered about the town

in the most unlikely of places

invite the passerby to stop and ponder

and the cook in the local cafe

is pleased when the tip jar

is stuffed full with poems of gratitude.

     In the Democratic Republic of Poetry

theologians will cast aside dogma

in favor of free verse

and congregants will dance joyfully in the aisles. 

The gifted and the simple

will learn from what each has to teach the other

and our poet laureates will rap jive to the monkeys in the zoo

who will clap excitedly and scream for joy.

     In the Democratic Republic of Poetry

poets will gather in the public square

to converse on matters of concern

with passion and civility

and infuse our political discourse

with rhythm and rhyme

love and beauty

sorrow and suffering

justice and understanding

until a consensus is reached

whose harvest is peace

and what is best for the common good

and the life of the planet.

     In the Democratic Republic of Poetry

tourists will be greeted at the border

with song and poems of welcoming

and citizens will be issued passports

stamped with the poetry of the places they have visited

that have enriched and deepened their lives.



Copyright December 27, 2011 by David Glick.  All right reserved.


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