Amanda Gorman
Wordsmith. Change-Maker.
Amanda Gorman is the youngest inaugural poet in U.S. history, as well as an award-winning writer and cum laude graduate of Harvard University, where she studied Sociology. She has written for the New York Times and has three books forthcoming with Penguin Random House.
Born and raised in Los Angeles, she began writing at only a few years of age. Now her words have won her invitations to the Obama White House and to perform for Lin-Manuel Miranda, Al Gore, Secretary Hillary Clinton, Malala Yousafzai, and others. Amanda has performed multiple commissioned poems for CBS This Morning and she has spoken at events and venues across the country, including the Library of Congress and Lincoln Center. She has received a Genius Grant from OZY Media, as well as recognition from Scholastic Inc., YoungArts, the Glamour magazine College Women of the Year Awards, and the Webby Awards. She has written for the New York Times newsletter The Edit and penned the manifesto for Nike's 2020 Black History Month campaign. In 2017, Amanda Gorman was appointed the first-ever National Youth Poet Laureate by Urban Word – a program that supports Youth Poets Laureate in more than 60 cities, regions and states nationally. She is the recipient of the Poets & Writers Barnes & Noble Writers for Writers Award, and is the youngest board member of 826 National, the largest youth writing network in the United States.
Source: https://www.theamandagorman.com
“Poetry is the lens we use to interrogate the history we stand on and the future we stand for.”
“I have to interweave my poetry with purpose. For me, that purpose is to help people, and to shed a light on issues that have far too long been in the darkness.”
☀️ Every known nook of our nation and every corner called our country, our people diverse and beautiful, will emerge battered and beautiful. When day comes, we step out of the shade aflame and unafraid. The new dawn blooms as we free it. For there is always light, if only we’re brave enough to see it. If only we’re brave enough to be it.
☀️ Every known nook of our nation and every corner called our country, our people diverse and beautiful, will emerge battered and beautiful. When day comes, we step out of the shade aflame and unafraid. The new dawn blooms as we free it. For there is always light, if only we’re brave enough to see it. If only we’re brave enough to be it.
The Hill We Climb
When day comes, we ask ourselves, where can we find light in this never-ending shade?
The loss we carry. A sea we must wade.
We braved the belly of the beast.
We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace, and the norms and notions of what “just” is isn’t always justice.
And yet the dawn is ours before we knew it.
Somehow we do it.
Somehow we weathered and witnessed a nation that isn’t broken, but simply unfinished.
We, the successors of a country and a time where a skinny Black girl descended from slaves and raised by a single mother can dream of becoming president, only to find herself reciting for one.
And, yes, we are far from polished, far from pristine, but that doesn’t mean we are striving to form a union that is perfect.
We are striving to forge our union with purpose.
To compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters and conditions of man.
And so we lift our gaze, not to what stands between us, but what stands before us.
We close the divide because we know to put our future first, we must first put our differences aside.
We lay down our arms so we can reach out our arms to one another.
We seek harm to none and harmony for all.
Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true.
That even as we grieved, we grew.
That even as we hurt, we hoped.
That even as we tired, we tried.
That we’ll forever be tied together, victorious.
Not because we will never again know defeat, but because we will never again sow division.
Scripture tells us to envision that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree, and no one shall make them afraid.
If we’re to live up to our own time, then victory won’t lie in the blade, but in all the bridges we’ve made.
That is the promise to glade, the hill we climb, if only we dare.
It’s because being American is more than a pride we inherit.
It’s the past we step into and how we repair it.
We’ve seen a force that would shatter our nation, rather than share it.
Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy.
And this effort very nearly succeeded.
But while democracy can be periodically delayed, it can never be permanently defeated.
In this truth, in this faith we trust, for while we have our eyes on the future, history has its eyes on us.
This is the era of just redemption.
We feared at its inception.
We did not feel prepared to be the heirs of such a terrifying hour.
But within it we found the power to author a new chapter, to offer hope and laughter to ourselves.
So, while once we asked, how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe, now we assert, how could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?
We will not march back to what was, but move to what shall be: a country that is bruised but whole, benevolent but bold, fierce and free.
We will not be turned around or interrupted by intimidation because we know our inaction and inertia will be the inheritance of the next generation, become the future.
Our blunders become their burdens.
But one thing is certain.
If we merge mercy with might, and might with right, then love becomes our legacy and change our children’s birthright.
So let us leave behind a country better than the one we were left.
Every breath from my bronze-pounded chest, we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one.
We will rise from the golden hills of the West.
We will rise from the windswept Northeast where our forefathers first realized revolution.
We will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the Midwestern states.
We will rise from the sun-baked South.
We will rebuild, reconcile, and recover.
And every known nook of our nation and every corner called our country, our people diverse and beautiful, will emerge battered and beautiful.
When day comes, we step out of the shade aflame and unafraid.
The new dawn blooms as we free it.
For there is always light, if only we’re brave enough to see it.
If only we’re brave enough to be it.
Do Us Good
by Amanda Gorman
Are we born wicked
Or do we have wickedness thrust upon us
Are we born bad
Or brave
There’s a world we miss when we misbehave
But we miss just as much when we misconstrue
When we distrust what is different
And detest what is new
History is written by the victors
And villains are embittered by the forcible and the few
But through how we live
Our children learn what we earn when we’re earnest
And what we forge when we forgive
Only with decency do we discover people are not born evil
But born equal
Green not with envy
But what we envision in each other
A sentimental mankind finding ourselves even in the dark
There is a goodness that knows in our hearts
No one is wicked at birth
We are born to light the wick of the earth
We are all that girl
When something changes within us something changes in this vast world
We will never be the same
This feeling fervid as a flame has a name
Un-adulterated loving
Rushing
Flooding
Together we’ll stare down the emerald tower
We will not cower
We will not let our power take over us
But let ourselves take back our power
We won’t just say we’re sorry now
Rejoicify that we’re glad and grateful just to be seen and not listened to
We’ll dream
Soar into the blue
Rise up to a new reality
Because defending the good is how we defy gravity
So if you dare to find us look to our west turned eyes
Everyone won’t do good deeds
But all deserve the chance to try to be understood
As we should
And if this they would mourn wicked
then let this WICKED DO US GOOD
Short Poems
Source : https://poemsworld.net/amanda-gorman-short-poems/
Somehow we've weathered and witnessed a nation that isn't broken,/But simply unfinished
Even when shadows claw in jealousy/ They will never understand what it takes to care for yourself / To heal your wounds/ And to remain resilient
For there is always light,/ If only we're brave enough to see it,/ If only we're brave enough to be it
We will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one/ ... There is always light/ If only we're brave enough to see it/ If only we're brave enough to be it
We are striving to forge a union with purpose/ To compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters, and conditions of man
The Miracle of Morning
I thought I’d awaken to a world in mourning.
Heavy clouds crowding, a society storming.
But there’s something different on this golden morning.
Something magical in the sunlight, wide and warming.
I see a dad with a stroller taking a jog.
Across the street, a bright-eyed girl chases her dog.
A grandma on a porch fingers her rosaries.
She grins as her young neighbor brings her groceries.
While we might feel small, separate, and all alone,
Our people have never been more closely tethered.
The question isn’t if we will weather this unknown,
But how we will weather this unknown together.
So on this meaningful morn, we mourn and we mend.
Like light, we can’t be broken, even when we bend.
As one, we will defeat both despair and disease.
We stand with healthcare heroes and all employees;
With families, libraries, schools, waiters, artists;
Businesses, restaurants, and hospitals hit hardest.
We ignite not in the light, but in lack thereof,
For it is in loss that we truly learn to love.
In this chaos, we will discover clarity.
In suffering, we must find solidarity.
For it’s our grief that gives us our gratitude,
Shows us how to find hope, if we ever lose it.
So ensure that this ache wasn’t endured in vain:
Do not ignore the pain. Give it purpose. Use it.
Read children’s books, dance alone to DJ music.
Know that this distance will make our hearts grow fonder.
From a wave of woes our world will emerge stronger.
We’ll observe how the burdens braved by humankind
Are also the moments that make us humans kind;
Let every dawn find us courageous, brought closer;
Heeding the light before the fight is over.
When this ends, we’ll smile sweetly, finally seeing
In testing times, we became the best of beings.
By Youth Poet Laureate Amanda Gorman
Inaugural Poets Laureate
Elections in the United States and in many other nations around the world provide invaluable opportunities for communities and entire nations to reflect on their complex histories and shared experiences. Each moment of voting and each inauguration ceremony offers us a significant chance to express our collective hopes for the future and to consider how our core values will ultimately influence the trajectories of governments, cultures, and societies. While art and literature have long played pivotal roles in shaping the course of civilization, the inclusion of poetry at presidential inaugurations is a relatively recent practice. Throughout history, only four presidents—John F. Kennedy in 1961, Bill Clinton in both 1993 and 1997, Barack Obama in 2009 and 2013, and Joe Biden in 2021—have made the remarkable choice to invite poets to share their works at these significant events, thereby demonstrating their deep appreciation for the power of reading and the literary arts.
Inaugural Poems
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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. -
A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since departed, Marked the mastodon… -
We have memorized America,
how it was born and who we have been and where... -
Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each other's eyes or not, about to speak or speaking...
-
One sun rose on us today, kindled over our shores, peeking over the Smokies, greeting the faces of the Great Lakes, spreading a simple truth
across the Great Plains, then charging across the Rockies... -
We’ve seen a force that would shatter our nation rather than share it,
Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy.
And this effort very nearly succeeded.
But while democracy can be periodically delayed,
It can never be permanently defeated...