Ella Mae Johnson and Rosa Parks's Spirit
Though old and frail, she stood up and made her last march on Washington
Ella Mae Johnson was not afraid of the cold winter day
Her sight was on the White House, soon to be occupied by the First Couple
She wanted to witness history one more time
Ella witnessed men and women who stood up to fight for others' rights
Too happy and too proud to feel the cold this morning
She saw no more color, no more separation, no more colored signs
On the National Mall, she saw happy people gathered together
With the same objectives to remake America
Change has come to the country. New blood and
Fresh ideas are reinvigorating the nation's business
Ella is tired from waiting for the inauguration of the President
Then, he took the oath of office, spoke to the chanting crowd
Ella's caregiver wiped her nose and tears from her face
But she did not feel the weather elements at all
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Inaugural Poems: Excerpts from former Inauguration Day poems
Excerpts from former Inauguration Day poems
The Gift Outright, for John F. Kennedy, 1961, by Robert Frost
The land was ours before we were the land's.
She was our land more than a hundred years
Before we were her people. She was ours
In Massachusetts, in Virginia,
But we were England's, still colonials...
(NB from the poem Frost recited from memory, not the one he had written for the occasion)
On the Pulse of Morning, for Bill Clinton, 1993, by Maya Angelou
You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot...
You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru, bought
Sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare
Praying for a dream.
Here, root yourselves beside me.
I am the Tree planted by the River,
Which will not be moved.
Of History and Hope, for Bill Clinton, 1997, by Miller Williams
We have memorised America,
how it was born and who we have been and where.
In ceremonies and silence we say the words,
telling the stories, singing the old songs.
We like the places they take us. Mostly we do.
The great and all the anonymous dead are there.
We know the sound of all the sounds we brought.
From 'Ars Poetica: #100. I Believe', 2005, by Elizabeth Alexander
Poetry is what you find
in the dirt in the corner,
overhear on the bus, God
in the details, the only way
to get from here to there.
Poetry (and now my voice is rising)
is not all love, love, love,
and I'm sorry the dog died.
Poetry (here I hear myself loudest)
is the human voice,
and are we not of interest to each other?
The Gift Outright, for John F. Kennedy, 1961, by Robert Frost
The land was ours before we were the land's.
She was our land more than a hundred years
Before we were her people. She was ours
In Massachusetts, in Virginia,
But we were England's, still colonials...
(NB from the poem Frost recited from memory, not the one he had written for the occasion)
On the Pulse of Morning, for Bill Clinton, 1993, by Maya Angelou
You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot...
You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru, bought
Sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare
Praying for a dream.
Here, root yourselves beside me.
I am the Tree planted by the River,
Which will not be moved.
Of History and Hope, for Bill Clinton, 1997, by Miller Williams
We have memorised America,
how it was born and who we have been and where.
In ceremonies and silence we say the words,
telling the stories, singing the old songs.
We like the places they take us. Mostly we do.
The great and all the anonymous dead are there.
We know the sound of all the sounds we brought.
From 'Ars Poetica: #100. I Believe', 2005, by Elizabeth Alexander
Poetry is what you find
in the dirt in the corner,
overhear on the bus, God
in the details, the only way
to get from here to there.
Poetry (and now my voice is rising)
is not all love, love, love,
and I'm sorry the dog died.
Poetry (here I hear myself loudest)
is the human voice,
and are we not of interest to each other?
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Is Rev. Joseph E. Lowery's Inaugural Benediction Better Than Elizabeth Alexander's Praise Song for the Day?
God of our weary years, God of our silent tears, thou, who has brought us thus far along the way, thou, who has by thy might led us into the light, keep us forever in the path we pray, lest our feet stray from the places, our God, where we met thee, lest our hearts drunk with the wine of the world, we forget thee.
Shadowed beneath thy hand, may we forever stand true to thee, oh God, and true to our native land.
We truly give thanks for the glorious experience we've shared this day.
We pray now, oh Lord, for your blessing upon thy servant Barack Obama, the 44th president of these United States, his family and his administration.
He has come to this high office at a low moment in the national, and indeed the global, fiscal climate. But because we know you got the whole world in your hands, we pray for not only our nation, but for the community of nations.
Our faith does not shrink though pressed by the flood of mortal ills.
For we know that, Lord, you are able and you're willing to work through faithful leadership to restore stability, mend our brokenness, heal our wounds, and deliver us from the exploitation of the poor, of the least of these, and from favoritism toward the rich, the elite of these.
We thank you for the empowering of thy servant, our 44th president, to inspire our nation to believe that yes we can work together to achieve a more perfect union.
And while we have sown the seeds of greed — the wind of greed and corruption, and even as we reap the whirlwind of social and economic disruption, we seek forgiveness and we come in a spirit of unity and solidarity to commit our support to our president by our willingness to make sacrifices, to respect your creation, to turn to each other and not on each other.
And now, Lord, in the complex arena of human relations, help us to make choices on the side of love, not hate; on the side of inclusion, not exclusion; tolerance, not intolerance.
And as we leave this mountain top, help us to hold on to the spirit of fellowship and the oneness of our family. Let us take that power back to our homes, our workplaces, our churches, our temples, our mosques, or wherever we seek your will.
Bless President Barack, First Lady Michelle. Look over our little angelic Sasha and Malia.
We go now to walk together as children, pledging that we won't get weary in the difficult days ahead. We know you will not leave us alone.
With your hands of power and your heart of love, help us then, now, Lord, to work for that day when nations shall not lift up sword against nation, when tanks will be beaten into tractors, when every man and every woman shall sit under his or her own vine and fig tree and none shall be afraid, when justice will roll down like waters and righteousness as a mighty stream.
Lord, in the memory of all the saints who from their labors rest, and in the joy of a new beginning, we ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get in back, when brown can stick around ... when yellow will be mellow ... when the red man can get ahead, man; and when white will embrace what is right. That all those who do justice and love mercy say Amen.
Shadowed beneath thy hand, may we forever stand true to thee, oh God, and true to our native land.
We truly give thanks for the glorious experience we've shared this day.
We pray now, oh Lord, for your blessing upon thy servant Barack Obama, the 44th president of these United States, his family and his administration.
He has come to this high office at a low moment in the national, and indeed the global, fiscal climate. But because we know you got the whole world in your hands, we pray for not only our nation, but for the community of nations.
Our faith does not shrink though pressed by the flood of mortal ills.
For we know that, Lord, you are able and you're willing to work through faithful leadership to restore stability, mend our brokenness, heal our wounds, and deliver us from the exploitation of the poor, of the least of these, and from favoritism toward the rich, the elite of these.
We thank you for the empowering of thy servant, our 44th president, to inspire our nation to believe that yes we can work together to achieve a more perfect union.
And while we have sown the seeds of greed — the wind of greed and corruption, and even as we reap the whirlwind of social and economic disruption, we seek forgiveness and we come in a spirit of unity and solidarity to commit our support to our president by our willingness to make sacrifices, to respect your creation, to turn to each other and not on each other.
And now, Lord, in the complex arena of human relations, help us to make choices on the side of love, not hate; on the side of inclusion, not exclusion; tolerance, not intolerance.
And as we leave this mountain top, help us to hold on to the spirit of fellowship and the oneness of our family. Let us take that power back to our homes, our workplaces, our churches, our temples, our mosques, or wherever we seek your will.
Bless President Barack, First Lady Michelle. Look over our little angelic Sasha and Malia.
We go now to walk together as children, pledging that we won't get weary in the difficult days ahead. We know you will not leave us alone.
With your hands of power and your heart of love, help us then, now, Lord, to work for that day when nations shall not lift up sword against nation, when tanks will be beaten into tractors, when every man and every woman shall sit under his or her own vine and fig tree and none shall be afraid, when justice will roll down like waters and righteousness as a mighty stream.
Lord, in the memory of all the saints who from their labors rest, and in the joy of a new beginning, we ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get in back, when brown can stick around ... when yellow will be mellow ... when the red man can get ahead, man; and when white will embrace what is right. That all those who do justice and love mercy say Amen.
Poem for Barack H. Obama from Derek Walcott
Derek Walcott
Out of the turmoil emerges one emblem, an engraving —
a young Negro at dawn in straw hat and overalls,
an emblem of impossible prophecy, a crowd
dividing like the furrow which a mule has ploughed,
parting for their president: a field of snow-flecked
cotton
forty acres wide, of crows with predictable omens
that the young ploughman ignores for his unforgotten
cotton-haired ancestors, while lined on one branch, is
a tense
court of bespectacled owls and, on the field's
receding rim —
a gesticulating scarecrow stamping with rage at him.
The small plough continues on this lined page
beyond the moaning ground, the lynching tree, the tornado's
black vengeance,
and the young ploughman feels the change in his veins,
heart, muscles, tendons,
till the land lies open like a flag as dawn's sure
light streaks the field and furrows wait for the sower.
Out of the turmoil emerges one emblem, an engraving —
a young Negro at dawn in straw hat and overalls,
an emblem of impossible prophecy, a crowd
dividing like the furrow which a mule has ploughed,
parting for their president: a field of snow-flecked
cotton
forty acres wide, of crows with predictable omens
that the young ploughman ignores for his unforgotten
cotton-haired ancestors, while lined on one branch, is
a tense
court of bespectacled owls and, on the field's
receding rim —
a gesticulating scarecrow stamping with rage at him.
The small plough continues on this lined page
beyond the moaning ground, the lynching tree, the tornado's
black vengeance,
and the young ploughman feels the change in his veins,
heart, muscles, tendons,
till the land lies open like a flag as dawn's sure
light streaks the field and furrows wait for the sower.
Inaugural Poet Elizabeth Alexander's Poem, "Praise Song for the Day"
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.
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.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Ms. Elizabeth Alexander's Books of Poetry Become Bestsellers on Amazon.com
Poetry finds its voice in this Yale University Professor who has been honored by President Barack Obama. She has been a good servant of the craft for many years. she has been commissioned to write and deliver a poem during the inauguration.
There is no doubt that her books are going to be purchased like hot potatoes on various web sites and in bookstores. After reaching millions on January 20, her audience will increase.
Ms. Alexander’s first book of poems, "The Venus Hottentot," was published in 1990. Ms. Alexander’s other books of poetry are "Body of Life" (1996), "Antebellum Dream Book" (2001) and "American Sublime" (2005), one of three finalists for the Pulitzer Prize. She has also published two books of essays, "The Black Interior" (2003) and "Power & Possibility" (2007).
Buy Poetry books at
http://bestsellerpicks.blogspot.com
http://bestsellerpicks.blogspot.com
http://shopnowshop.tripod.com
There is no doubt that her books are going to be purchased like hot potatoes on various web sites and in bookstores. After reaching millions on January 20, her audience will increase.
Ms. Alexander’s first book of poems, "The Venus Hottentot," was published in 1990. Ms. Alexander’s other books of poetry are "Body of Life" (1996), "Antebellum Dream Book" (2001) and "American Sublime" (2005), one of three finalists for the Pulitzer Prize. She has also published two books of essays, "The Black Interior" (2003) and "Power & Possibility" (2007).
Buy Poetry books at
http://bestsellerpicks.blogspot.com
http://bestsellerpicks.blogspot.com
http://shopnowshop.tripod.com
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Barack Obama's Inauguration Day Schedule
Inauguration Day Schedule
Events for Obama's Inaugural on Jan. 20
9 a.m.: Morning Worship Service
10 a.m.: Procession to the Capitol
11:15 a.m.: Vice President's Swearing-In Ceremony
11:30 am: President's Swearing-In Ceremony,
Noon: Obama's Inaugural Address
1 p.m.: Departure of the Outgoing President
1:30 p.m.: Inaugural Luncheon
2:30 p.m.: Inaugural Parade
7:30 p.m.: Inaugural Balls
—All times EST and approximate
Events for Obama's Inaugural on Jan. 20
9 a.m.: Morning Worship Service
10 a.m.: Procession to the Capitol
11:15 a.m.: Vice President's Swearing-In Ceremony
11:30 am: President's Swearing-In Ceremony,
Noon: Obama's Inaugural Address
1 p.m.: Departure of the Outgoing President
1:30 p.m.: Inaugural Luncheon
2:30 p.m.: Inaugural Parade
7:30 p.m.: Inaugural Balls
—All times EST and approximate
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Strong Men of Purpose: T.D. Jakes Cries over Obama's Inauguration. And So Does Rick Warren
Strong Men Who Cry Over the Inauguration
Colin Powell cries
Rick Warren Cries
T.D. Jakes cries
Sidney Poitier cries
Civil Rights Leaders Cry
Over the inauguration of Barack Obama
As the 44th President of the United States of America
Hip Hop artists cry
Musicians and actors Cry
Mothers and parents cry
Children cry over this moment in history
Colin Powell cries
Rick Warren Cries
T.D. Jakes cries
Sidney Poitier cries
Civil Rights Leaders Cry
Over the inauguration of Barack Obama
As the 44th President of the United States of America
Hip Hop artists cry
Musicians and actors Cry
Mothers and parents cry
Children cry over this moment in history
Friday, December 26, 2008
Ode to Elizabeth Alexander, Barack Obama's Inauguration Poet (2008)
Ode to Elizabeth Alexander, (jjc-2008)
Inaugural Poet, Barack Obama 2008
First things first, congratulations on your selection!
You deserve this great honor. Your body of works is your proof
You are ready for the task. All you have to do is to get it done
Are you scared? How are you generating these great ideas for the occasion?
You may not need my advice now. It would send you all the way up to the roof
Bear in mind that this event is not all about you, but it depends on your tone
===================
Remember your own words to NPR's Melissa Block as you are getting ready to compose and recite this poem.
"I've been trying out phrases and ideas and meditating and looking through scraps of things that I've been noting," she says. "It's been a time of tremendous feeling and tremendous thought."
"In that moment, really I am the vessel for the poem," she says. "It's not about the poet at that moment, it's about the poem. So the pressure — the challenge — is to write a poem that can serve … all of those expectant, gathered millions and to let the poem be what calms my nerves when I am up there. To let myself remember that I am there to deliver these words and these words have been commissioned to deliver a very, very amazing moment."
Yale Poet Elizabeth Alexander Prepares Poem To Read to Thrill at Obama Inauguration: Who is She?
What a great honor for this professor to be selected to read her own composition on January 20, 2009! Her dream will finally come true.
Elizabeth Alexander, professor of African-American studies at Yale University, was chosen by President-elect Barack Obama to compose and read a poem for his inauguration on Jan. 20.
"I'm completely thrilled and deeply, deeply honored," Alexander said Thursday.
Alexander's mother is a historian specializing in African-American women's history at George Washington University. Her father was a presidential civil rights adviser and secretary of the Army.
"The civil rights movement was fully alive in our home," Alexander said.
Even though she is a friend of the Obamas, it is her experience, craft and contributions that helped her get selected for this honor.
Check this out here or go to her website: http://www.elizabethalexander.net/home.html
"Elizabeth Alexander is a poet, essayist, playwright, and teacher. She is the author of four books of poems, The Venus Hottentot, Body of Life, Antebellum Dream Book, and American Sublime, which was one of three finalists for the 2005 Pulitzer Prize. She is also a scholar of African-American literature and culture and recently published a collection of essays, The Black Interior. She has read her work across the U.S. and in Europe, the Caribbean, and South America, and her poetry, short stories, and critical prose have been published in dozens of periodicals and anthologies...."
Elizabeth Alexander is a very accomplished writer, poet and essayist. She will deliver for this great occasion. In an interview on NPR last week, she said she is going to prepare a short but very intense poem.
Elizabeth Alexander was born in 1962 in Harlem, New York, and grew up in Washington, D.C. She received a B.A. from Yale University, an M.A. from Boston University (where she studied with Derek Walcott), and a Ph.D. in English from the University of Pennsylvania.
Her collections of poetry include American Sublime (Graywolf Press, 2005), which was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize; Antebellum Dream Book (2001); Body of Life (1996); and The Venus Hottentot (1990).
Alexander’s critical work appears in her essay collection, The Black Interior (Graywolf, 2004). She also edited The Essential Gwendolyn Brooks (Graywolf, 2005) and Love’s Instruments: Poems by Melvin Dixon (1995). Her poems, short stories, and critical writing have been widely published in such journals and periodicals as The Paris Review, American Poetry Review, The Kenyon Review, The Southern Review, Prairie Schooner, Callaloo, The Village Voice, The Women's Review of Books, and The Washington Post. Her work has been anthologized in over twenty collections, and in May of 1996, her verse play, Diva Studies, premiered at the Yale School of Drama...."
Monday, December 22, 2008
Barack Obama Commissioned a Poem from Yale Professor, Elizabeth Alexander: Who is This Poet?
Mr. Barack Obama's selection of a poet such as Elizabeth Alexander for his inauguration shows that the arts will be important to his administration. At least, for a day, poetry will be on everybody's mind. January 20 will reveal the poem that Ms. Elizabeth has been working to celebrate the occasion. This occasional poem should also appeal to the future, said the bard of the south Side.
Who is Ms. Alexander?
Ms. Alexander was born in Harlem, where her father’s family was rooted, but grew up in Washington, where she attended Georgetown Day School and Sidwell Friends, then Yale. Politics, she said, was “in the drinking water in my house.” Her father, Clifford, was a civil rights adviser to President Lyndon B. Johnson and was instrumental in the passage of the Voting Rights Act. He was the first black to be named secretary of the Army and chairman of the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission.
Her mother, Adele, teaches African-American women’s history at George Washington University. Her brother, Mark, teaches at Seton Hall Law School and served as policy director to Bill Bradley’s presidential campaign in 2000. An expert in campaign finance, he was a senior adviser to Mr. Obama’s campaign and is a member of his transition team.
Ms. Alexander has been on the faculty of several universities, including the University of Chicago, where she taught creative writing and African-American literature and won the Quantrell Award for excellence in undergraduate teaching. It is there in the 1990s that she met Barack and Michelle Obama.
======================
Barack Obama, Elizabeth Alexander, Inaugural Poet, Inauguration Day 2009, Maya Angelou, Obama Inauguration, Obama Inauguration Poet, Obama Poet, Obama's Inaugural Poet, Poet And Obama And Inaguration, Poetry, The Poetic Life, Media News
Who is Ms. Alexander?
Ms. Alexander was born in Harlem, where her father’s family was rooted, but grew up in Washington, where she attended Georgetown Day School and Sidwell Friends, then Yale. Politics, she said, was “in the drinking water in my house.” Her father, Clifford, was a civil rights adviser to President Lyndon B. Johnson and was instrumental in the passage of the Voting Rights Act. He was the first black to be named secretary of the Army and chairman of the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission.
Her mother, Adele, teaches African-American women’s history at George Washington University. Her brother, Mark, teaches at Seton Hall Law School and served as policy director to Bill Bradley’s presidential campaign in 2000. An expert in campaign finance, he was a senior adviser to Mr. Obama’s campaign and is a member of his transition team.
Ms. Alexander has been on the faculty of several universities, including the University of Chicago, where she taught creative writing and African-American literature and won the Quantrell Award for excellence in undergraduate teaching. It is there in the 1990s that she met Barack and Michelle Obama.
======================
Barack Obama, Elizabeth Alexander, Inaugural Poet, Inauguration Day 2009, Maya Angelou, Obama Inauguration, Obama Inauguration Poet, Obama Poet, Obama's Inaugural Poet, Poet And Obama And Inaguration, Poetry, The Poetic Life, Media News
Monday, November 24, 2008
Long-range, Free-verse Poet, Donald Finkel Died Of Complications of Alzheimer's Disease
Let his sould rest in peace! Here are some of his books:
"His books were published almost exclusively by Atheneum. Among his 14 volumes of poetry are “Simeon” (1964), “A Joyful Noise” (1966), “The Garbage Wars” (1970) and “What Manner of Beast” (1981). In 2003, Mid-List Press published Mr. Finkel’s collection “Not So the Chairs: Selected and New Poems.”
The title poem of “Not So the Chairs” opens this way:
The tables slept on their feet
like horses
could wait there
forever if commanded
no matter what men set on them
a strong back was all it took
and a little patience
the beds never got up at all
pampered in linens
sprawling in perfumed chambers
while on their breasts the gentry
shrieked and sweated
muffling from time to time a sigh
in a diffident pillow
"His books were published almost exclusively by Atheneum. Among his 14 volumes of poetry are “Simeon” (1964), “A Joyful Noise” (1966), “The Garbage Wars” (1970) and “What Manner of Beast” (1981). In 2003, Mid-List Press published Mr. Finkel’s collection “Not So the Chairs: Selected and New Poems.”
The title poem of “Not So the Chairs” opens this way:
The tables slept on their feet
like horses
could wait there
forever if commanded
no matter what men set on them
a strong back was all it took
and a little patience
the beds never got up at all
pampered in linens
sprawling in perfumed chambers
while on their breasts the gentry
shrieked and sweated
muffling from time to time a sigh
in a diffident pillow
Friday, November 21, 2008
Recommended Shopping Links: Advice and Price Comparison Sites
Just In-------Just In------Just In-----Just In for Shopnowshop AllPromDresses Network
Top Prom Designers
Of Beautiful Prom Dresses & Gowns
Buyer & Seller Housing Data & Tips
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Underdogs to WONDERDOGS: Fresno State's Road to Omaha and the College World Series Championship (wonderdogsbook.com)
The Rise to The Top
Underdogs to Wonderdogs Poem
Odes to the Wonderdogs
The baseball season started just like any other season
With young guys too eager to play the game,
Please their parents, friends, and coaches
Through hard work and determination, an unlikely group of players
Ended up making a team. Their strengths overcame their weaknesses
Yet, the struggles to be the World Series Champions threatened them all
How to be the top dogs without the team's best pitcher?
How to advance to the College World Series Championships
Without winning the Western Athletic Conference Tournament?
The best underdog story needed a writer and the organized drive
Of dedicated players such as Tommy Mendonca, Steve Detwiler
"It's mind over matter. It's just a little pain...
The Pain is temporary. Pride is forever," said Detwiler
In the end, we, Americans, like underdog stories
We like the coming from behind to win it all
Congratulations to the Fresno State Bulldogs
For making a University, two sister cities and a Nation proud!
It was the preview of one of the greatest underdog stories
That this nation would know in just one year
Barack Obama made history by becoming the 44th President of the U.S.A
Indeed, the seeds of victory and success are spread in small communities
Such as Fresno and Clovis, CA. You can see them at Fresno State every season too!
Get the book review at Oprahbookclubfan
Find the list of BestsellerPicks Books at BestsellerPicks
Buy the book or order it ahead of time at www.wonderdogsbook.com
It is a great story that needs to be told and repeated. It is a book with great potential.
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