AMANDA GORMAN AND HOW TO INCORPORATE POETRY IN YOUR SALES PITCH

Poetry is often underrated and underappreciated. It was refreshing then, that during the inauguration of President Joe Biden, it was a poet who stole the show. Not just any poet either. Amanda Gorman is a 22-year-old Harvard Graduate and national youth poet laureate. She is also, as she proved on a stage that would have intimidated or overawed most artists with twice her years and experience, an extraordinary talent.

Gorman’s poem, The Hill We Climb, written in the gloomy hours after the shameful attack on America’s Capitol building, was a hymn to all that is great about democracy and the peaceful transfer of power. It was also an homage to that most ethereal, and hard to capture hallmark of all great works of words – hope.

Poetry, when done right, can lift the soul. Perhaps more than any other art form, it has the capacity to produce moments of distilled, alchemical magic. Gold where there was lead a moment ago. Unlike music, there is no melody to carry it, so words that sing do so on their own merit; melody in its purest form. Unlike literature, poetry cannot afford to build slowly, or waste a syllable. When done right, poetry can remind us of universal truths that it is sometimes more convenient to forget. When Gorman wrote that ‘what just is, is not always justice’, we nod, because we recognise one of history’s essential teachings, perfectly put. And if she can do that in one line, it should be little surprise that she can summarise the necessity of active citizenship in ten.

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. 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 changes our children’s birthright.

And so it continued. In fast flowing, melodic language, Gorman’s poem was part rap, part poem, part guidebook for healing the rifts that divide America. That it referenced Hamilton, Lin-Manuel Miranda’s extraordinary hip-hop monument to America’s forgotten founding father, was no accident. That razor-sharp musical brought more words to the stage than any other musical has ever attempted. For Gorman, Hamilton did not just inspire by its verbal trickery. It also had a lasting impact on Gorman’s performance and public speaking. Like Joe Biden, Gorman suffered from a speech impediment. In fact, until recently she struggled to pronounce the letter R. The remedy she stumbled upon was to listen and repeat the Hamilton song Aaron Burr, Sir, which is littered with playful riffs on that troublesome consonant.

On Inauguration Day, Gorman slowed herself at the start, resisting the adrenaline that must have been imploring her to rush ahead. Instead, she grew into the poem, letting it ask its questions, and then gradually reeling off an answer. When she did speed up in the second half, she spoke with the force her words demanded. Because the poem was deliberately high tempo at that point, she wove breaks and rhythms into it with her hands, waving out the melody as if conducting her orchestra.

As for the final line, it was one that will surely stick and become part of the myth, magic and mystery of inauguration traditions. It was a beautiful crescendo with the perfect mic drop last couplet.

“There is light if only we are brave enough to see it; if only we are brave enough to be it.”

In those words, that flickering candle’s call to action, Gorman recalled perhaps the most famous line of any inauguration speech, JFK’s “Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country.” Is it sacrilege to say that Gorman’s version may be an improvement on the original? Her sparkling words remind us that democracy is not impermeable. It needs covering and protecting in the days when the wind howls and dark forces seek to extinguish its flame. It needs brave men and women willing to work for it, to tolerate its imperfections, to kindle it rather than smother it, to recognise that sometimes it flickers, or spits or burns, but more often it provides nourishing warmth.

As Gorman’s poem finished with a call to action, I hope you’ll allow this article to do the same.

Go and think about how you can incorporate poetry into your copy. I’m not suggesting you write your company credentials in rhyming verse, nor that you rap your next pitch to investors. I’m not even suggesting that you need to find unusual terms to surprise listeners and readers. Gorman’s poem featured no words that would cause a reader to pick up a dictionary.

There are tricks that can be deployed, of course. Rhyme and half rhyme bounce through the piece. Anaphora, aka the repetition of introductory phrases, was a recurring technique, nowhere more effective than in forming her rousing crescendo, with its repeated cry of “we will rise”. Alliteration sizzled in sentences like

“We will rise from the sunbaked south. We will rebuild, reconcile and recover.”

Rhetorical terms do not, on their own, grant power. Gorman used her techniques selectively, embedding rhythms and ebbs and flows within each line, her vocabulary constantly sustaining a mood of hope and aspiration. Poetry can be subtle, hidden almost imperceptibly in what is on the surface plain language. Poetry can be as simple as a series of words that clatter together and make each one better than it would have been without its companions.

As Gorman proved, when you put the right words in close proximity, when you measure your pauses accurately and let your tempo rise at the right time, simple text can soar. If you get that right, you’ll capture more attention, focus more eyes, and ultimately generate more sales, deeper partnerships and new customers.