Definition of Violence

Violence is an act ubiquitous in the world today. As part of an assignment for Dr. Mackenzie’s American Literature class subtitled A Search for Identity Amidst Violence, Sanda Lingle, a first-year Kinesiology major, has created a beautifully written poem entitled Define Violence. Her poem is hauntingly realistic and brings the reader into the world of an innocent 10 year old who has since lost his innocence through violence.

Despite her talent, Sanda does not see herself as a poet. Her talent was nurtured in a creative writing class she attended at TCC. For the class, she created a portfolio of writings that impressed her teacher. Now, the idea of her poem being on the UTA English Department blog was unexpected.
Definition of Violence
Sanda’s thought process included a look at what violence means to everyone.

She intended for the poem to be “open to interpretation” because the definition of violence varies according from person to person. The first line, “Violence is the sprout of silence,” sets the tone of the overall poem. While some sit idly by, others experience violence and bottle up their emotions until they eventually become a “ticking time bomb.” By incorporating liquor within the family in addition to a boy who associated in gangs, “My hands, are spooked/stained the color red..,” Sanda was able to engrave readers’ minds with realistic images.

Please enjoy Sanda’s captivating definition of violence.

Define Violence - Sanda Lingle

Violence

is the sprout of silence.

The opposite of violence is peace,

Oh! Yes! That was a grand feast!

Shaking the hand of my cheating father

and there she was, my silent, coked out, mother

with the mistress across from the table

I swear I could just slit her like Kane did to Abel.

The heart burns with so much aggression

I cannot wait, to express my suppression

The innocence deceased

in the silence of the streets

“I declare my hate!”

I can’t bare,

It’s

just

too

late.

So the silence boils

and overflows

while I spoil

what’s left with the blow on my nose

through all this hiding, I cannot take. . .

“Don’t bother! You can’t relate!”

My body is inked from toe to head

My hands, are spooked

stained the color red..

You can’t miss my violent cries-

Do you not see the fear in my eyes?

All this, because of my dad’s deceit

I watched, as he hit her on repeat

I was the one that found her!

with an empty bottle of liquor

eyes bloodshot

the violence, red handed and caught.

I was only ten on that silent night

A loss with no cause, distilled such a fright.

Published in:Lauren McManus |on October 11th, 2013 |No Comments »

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