|View single post by in media res|
|Posted: Mon Dec 24th, 2012 03:01 am||
in media res
Actually I am in New Orleans with the brother-in-law and my wife having great food and GREEEEEEAT small batch bourbon for a week. Jacob's Creek is ethereal.
The "evil" happened long before the event. It is called national "denial."
We have more (black) kids killed in Chicago in 5 weeks than happens in (mostly white) Connecticut in a day.
You totally fulfilled the poem's job and your intent beyond compete.
Write about the the mother. Who had a kid with "proclivities." And the guns she made available? She took him to the shooting range. The guns were not locked up?!!!!!
I grew up around guns. They were never locked up. My dad's transgression from the era. But, I never a problem with thems.
Anyway. Bless you for the poem. It said more than all the news reports of the entire coverage about the horrible event. And the political left/right crap about gun control. That is what a poem should do.
Merry Christmas. So sad.
"And to all a good night."