Letters to the Moon....

I began my life as a writer six years ago. There has been a marked evolution in me as a person, as a woman, as a writer, and as an artist. In looking back at my written work, I have recently discovered that I have evolved into an activist as well. I have written on this blog about many issues I am passionate about. When something happens in the world that is unfair and unjust, I feel the need to write about it. I often think to myself, "I have to talk about this. I HAVE to talk about this.  I cannot stay silent on this issue." It is a need within me unlike any other. I cannot have peace until I write my thoughts down and share my views on a particular issue. I feel I have a duty, a responsibility, to write. When I saw an unjust law beginning in my state, I wrote about it. http://letrasalaluna.blogspot.com/2015/03/the-state-of-things.html When tragedy struck the nation, I felt compelled to speak. http://letrasalaluna.blogspot.com/2013/09/never-forget.html ...

Dark Skies (Warning: there are some quotes in this piece with offensive language) Yesterday, history was made in the United States. For the first time ever, Americans had the chance to cast their vote for a woman President. Hillary Rodham Clinton was the candidate from the Democratic party. She has served the United States in being First Lady in the state of Arkansas, being the First Lady of the United States, a senator from the state of New York, and as Secretary of State in the Barack Obama Presidential Administration. She is the first woman in history to be the final candidate for the Presidency in any party. History was also being made on the other side of the U.S.’s two party system. Donald J. Trump was the candidate for President on the Republican side. He has been a real estate mogul, and reality TV show host. He has never held any kind of public office. He has never been a city councilman, mayor, or dog catcher. I awoke yesterday eager to get to my polling place...

It’s Only a Matter of Time A Treatise in the Fervent Hope of Ending Daylight Savings Time (DST) Once upon a time, there was a land of people who lived under a spell of time. Twice a year they go into a deep trance and are manipulated by a magical force to change their clocks. Before they enter their evening slumber on Saturday night, they move the hands of the clock to reflect a different time. When they wake from their slumbers on Sunday morning, they were convinced that they are living their lives at a completely different time. They continued to live under this spell, which lasted all of six months, until another spell of time was cast. The above scenario sounds like a fairy tale. It sounds like complete and utter lunacy, right? Then why do we do it every year? My friends I have just revealed the greatest example of mass lunacy in the world, more commonly known as Daylight Savings Time, abbreviated as DST. For those who are not familiar with the practice, or live in a...

On October 1, 2016 I had the immense pleasure of giving my first book talk. It was for the Indiana Chapter of the Church and Synagogue Library Association. Many months of preparation went into the book talk. I had a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it in. As part of my book talk, I was to give a speech, entitled, “Poetry in Motion.” I interpreted that title into my telling my journey as a writer. I have been a writer for six years. The story of my life as a writer is at once an epic tome, filled with stories of inordinate detail. Yet, it is also a short story, full of high points and ideas that rise above the minutiae.  There was so much to tell, so much to convey. How would  I begin to tell my story? I struggled with writing my speech.  I was to discuss how I began writing, how I began my blog, how I began to translate written works, what inspired me to publish my books myself, and how I went forming my publishing company. I was to then discuss the s...

Saturday September 24, 2016 was the annual 100 Thousand Poets for Change event. This is the first time in my career as a writer that I did not participate in the event. By the time I found out the date of the event, it was too late for me to prepare anything for the event. As it happened,  I already had plans for that day, plans that were years in the making. I was going to be a part of history. Three years ago I participated in a year of giving, making monetary contributions to different charities and cultural organizations for every month of the year. One of the contributions I made that year was to the National Museum of African American History and Culture. . At that point in time, the museum was beginning to tell their story, which was one hundred years in the making. Veterans of the Civil War began a movement to build this museum beginning in 1915.  http://www.smithsonianmag.com/smithsonian-institution/definitive-story-national-museum-african-american-history...