Opinion: Singing Trump’s faults

For some of our letter writers, the clear majority of whom appeared to favor Hillary Clinton, Donald Trump’s upset victory in the presidential election was the shock of a lifetime. Since last Tuesday’s vote, more than 1,000 letters reacting to Trump’s impending presidency have been submitted; most express anger, anxiety, surprise or some mix of the three.

With emotions running high (and still showing little sign of abating), it’s no wonder that several readers have chosen to express their feelings in verse. Major news events in the past, often traumatic ones, have drawn multiple poetic submissions, and Donald Trump’s election as the 45th president of the United States is no exception.

Barbara Schelbert of Pacific Palisades offers a post-election requiem:

This is my response to Gloria Steinem, who said, “After the election of Donald Trump, we will not mourn. We will organize.”

Gloria, let me mourn before I organize.

I want to mourn the loss of
decency and integrity
compassion and empathy
intellect and class.

I want to mourn the loss of
elegance and style
grace and generosity
honor and courage.

I want to mourn the loss of
pride and hope
soul and spirit
laughter and light.

I need to mourn a little longer.

Los Angeles resident Michael Franzblau’s poem is foreboding:

9/11 Attack from afar.
11/9 Attack from within.

Many people are happy.
I understand Cleveland.

Never underestimate
the electorate
to miss an opportunity
to miss an opportunity.

Our president
is the model
for our behavior.

Watch carefully.
Protect your women.

Huntington Beach resident Janet Weaver waxes optimistic:

When we contemplate having Trump as our president, let’s not leap to the worst conclusion. No one can know the future, and anyone with doubts about that can talk to Nate Silver or any other professional prognosticator.

Let’s put some trust in the undeniable good luck our country has known from its beginning. America is stronger than a ridiculous reality TV star. People have been known to rise. Let’s give Trump a chance.

We cannot know
What hasn’t been.
We can’t know what will be.
We don’t know that a man
With an orange-y tan
Will become what we can’t yet see.
Before our eyes
May come surprise:
The ball he may not bobble.
The world may move around the sun,
Its orbit may not wobble.

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