Hello Miss Young,
I read your piece with great interest; I'm always intrigued when someone writes an opinion piece such as yours, who truly has no skin in the game. You state we need " we need facts, not moral panic and politicized narratives" correct. …
A Villanelle
Hear ye! Hear ye! Let it be known
On the third day of November, in the year two thousand and twenty
The one who thinks he is a king will be overthrown
The grifter used the presidency as a stepping stone
To steal from the good citizens every damn penny
Hear ye! Hear ye! Let it be known
The man-child has a propensity for evil, thus he has shown
Blaming others for his failures, for there are plenty
The one who thinks he is a king will be overthrown
The Republican party hath shown no backbone
They allowed a cruel…
A Villanelle with Imagery
Front and center, no longer hidden
Longitudinal study of genocide
The white man’s burden, “Death to the Black man” for it is written
From a woman who knew neither of them
Between the ages of five and six, my mother divorced my father. She never spoke bad about him, however, the only thing she would tell me is that I would find out what kind of person he was on my own. During that time, there were the scheduled weekend visits, he would take me to Golden Gate Park, or to the zoo. Then the visit would end with the both of us at the toy store.
There are several memories that stick out about my father. One was where he took me to the Ice Capades, and when I had…
A Villanelle
She is strong and resilient, nothing gets by her
History has taught her much for all that she sees
Her pain and anguish for her lost child, she is now death’s connoisseur
Life has grown from within, she is love’s whisperer
And its just a matter of time she’ll teach them their ABC’s
She is strong and resilient, nothing gets by her
As each day passes, she wonders should she just infer
How history treats children like hers, as if they were diseased
Her pain and anguish for her lost child, she is now death’s connoisseur
She knows there are…
A Villanelle
The days of old are gone, but the shackles still remain
Where can mercy and grace be found
White supremacy carries the mark of Cain
Treated like animals, so very inhumane
Racism and hate are America’s playground
The days of old are gone, but the shackles still remain
Another life has been taken, can’t comprehend, its a mental strain
We watch the scene over and over sickeningly spellbound
White supremacy carries the mark of Cain
How many will we watch to be continually slain
The land of the free has become a hunting ground
The days of old are gone…
A Villanelle
We waved goodbye, as they walked out the door
A kiss on the cheek, a tight hug was felt
The sound of their voice is nevermore
Memories in the sun from their time at the shore
It was only a matter of time when we realized the hand they were dealt
We waved goodbye, as they walked out the door
Whispers of “I love you” as they led you onto the dance floor
Together forever, each moment was heartfelt
The sound of their voice is nevermore
“Why isn’t Grandma here anymore?”
There are no answers, feelings no longer felt
We…
during quarantine
“These uncertain times”
I hear this a lot, on the radio, TV, streaming services. However, it has put me in a particular mindset, the mindset of:
“Give us this day our daily bread”
Most people recognize this verse, its from the Lord’s Prayer. This is the Catholic version:
Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name; Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. …
Violet DeTorres
The Master’s Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master’s House // " When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time" --Maya Angelou
