April 28 Poem a Day for Crime Poem a Day

April 28 Joey's 30th April 28, 2012 would have been our son's thirtieth birthday. Unfortunately, his life on this earth came to an end on March 30, 2002. We still miss him terribly but are comforted by knowing that we will be united with him again in heaven. He loved Shakespeare, so my contribution to the crime poem-a-day blog effort is from Hamlet. Joe's favorite play, if one can have such a thing, was King Lear. Joseph Gabriel Leotta never got to act the role of Lear, but he did get to see it at the Globe (recreated) in London with his sister, just a few months before the accident that took his life. Here, dear friends, is a part of the poetry that is one of the soliloquies of Hamlet. It deals with the crime of murder--as you probably guessed! "

For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak with most miraculous organ. I'll have these players Play something like the murder of my father Before mine uncle: I'll observe his looks I'll tent him to the quick; if he but blench I know my course. The spirit I have seen May be the devil; and the devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape; yea and perhaps Out of my weakness and my melancholy, As he is very potent with such spirits, Abuses me to damn me; I'll have grounds More relative than this: the play's the thing Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.

" The following is a poem I wrote to celebrate Joey's life. I apologize that this is coming out in paragraph form instead of poem form. I will post it in poem form on my FB page. Kitty Hawk Hang Glider School By Joan Leotta The glider school brochure promised an adventure--- Da Vinci design joined to Icarus’ spirit. Such was the only recompense we could offer our teenage son when he traded time with friends for time with parents during that senior year spring break. Beach time, but with parents. Out on Kitty Hawk’s dunes at last, as his instructor watched, Joe lay flat, strapped into harness. At her signal, he began plodding, then running down that dune building up to flight speed. Finally, glider’s ungainly array of metal, canvas and Joe caught a stray air current whipping through the dunes. Snatched up, he was off of the sand! As I watched, he hovered between the earth and its shadow skimming along a small, low bit of sky. Airborne, tho not yet soaring, he was indeed, flying, even for just a moment, and all alone. Not Wilbur. Not Orville. Just Joe. A solo flight. The first of many yet to come.