RENEE’ DRUMMOND-BROWN

RENEE’ DRUMMOND-BROWN

THE SWING

His mansion has

oak stairs. A southern

flare. The ghost of my past also

resides here.

The sounds of torture echoes like

plantation shutters swinging em’

to N’ fro.

As I polish his silverware. The floors

crack. The walls

speak; who lives here? Certainly

not me!

THAT dirt drivewayhouses

my DNA. The open door is locked. I enter

from the back to cook

his menus plus

add me some fat-back. My minds

on that auction block. Those slave ships. Moses

parting THAT Red Sea for me. Gotta’ get back

to work; cause, I don’t wanna’ swing. No!

Not on this day.No! Not me. All

my clean windows see

“THAT”

infamous SHOW tree. Reminding us

O’

that swings plea. To make sure

you hang-em’ on high for

Massa’s sake and the picture-perfect imagery. I’m jus’

a passer by; til’ my turn to swing. Until then,

I’ll jus’ keep on telling; while keeping it clean.

Dedicated to: Self Preservation is the law of the land

A B.A.D. poem

No part of this poem may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without written permission from the author. Copyrighted@ AuthorHouse Publishing Company-“SOLD: To the HIGHEST BIDDER” book (pg. 160-161). All Rights Reserved@REVISED-December 30, 2017.

WALK ON BY

Thank you, God, that my vessel

floats in the midnight hour

to itsown tunes of non-rhythmic an’

rhymeless rhymes; seasoned

in Ecclesiastical spirit-filled times. Bothering

no-one as their

storm clouds DO rise as their

strong winds…theyDO blow.Jilted by all O’ them.

Sinking fast.Drowning in their sickening

sea of sinS forsaken by not so wannabe kin. Folk that is. But B.A.D. said

look to the hills from which my ONLY help can come. Walk on

the water anyhow away from them to Him. Set your eyesNOT

off of Him as they drown in their

own

designated for you sins. Step ov’r

them. Look to the hills from which your help comes and skip

onto the straight an’ narrow path unto Him.And only

in Him, will I cast these cares.

Alone.

For He cares for me.

Feel me?

B.A.D., I nev’r learned

to swim, butI sense the rhythm of the strokes.

Dedicated to: I sensethe rhythm of the strokes;but nev’r learned to swim.

A RocDeeRay poem

No part of this poem may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without written permission from the author. Copyrighted@ AuthorHouse Publishing Company. All Rights Reserved@January 3, 2018.

FATHER DEAREST

You raised 2 wonderful boys. Played with them

and

their Fao Schwarz expensive toys. Taught em’

to crawl, walk, talk and think. Taught em’

to ride a bike, walk trails and go on

long, loong, looong hikes. Walked em’

to school when missing their bus. Ev’n pulled out

thatvery first tooth and such; took em’

for weekly ‘costly’haircuts.

Worshipand prayer time

was ALWAYS in demand between you

and them. YOU helped em’

with homework; solely responsible for their A’s! Even

coachedtheir soccer, basketball, baseball and AAU teams! Drove em’

to their first dance and then taught em’

to drive, before, buying em’

BOTH cars.

GO YOU…

FATHER DEAREST, ‘YOU’ ARE DEFINITELY ‘THE’ SUPERSTAR

OF SUPERSTARS!

You taught em’ to dress. 2 piece,

black double breasted suits; worn down their chest. Sharp

as a tack. Two 6ft. 2 men all dressed

in black. You taught em’ to explore,

travel the world and YOU

even went on their individual college tours. You taught em’

to cover up and how NOT to get a girl pregnant!

Whew!Now I’m impressed!!

THAT

IS BOTH

RESPONSIBLE and PO-WER-FUL yet!!!

GO YOU!!!!

You ev’n said grace before they ate. You made

boyz’ to men as such;

great job

STEP-DAD OF THE YEAR!

BUT.

 I GOTTA’ HUNCH

YOUR BIOLOGICAL “NATURAL” SONS

GOT NONE OF “THAT”TIME NOR YOUR LOVE!

What ‘YOU’ think; what’s up?

Dedicated To: Go YOU!Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap!

A RocDeeRay and B.A.D. Poem

No part of this poem may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without written permission from the author. All Rights Reserved@ December 30, 2017.

RENEE’ DRUMMOND-BROWN

RENEE’DRUMMOND-BROWN, is an accomplished poetess with experience in creative writing. She is a graduate of Geneva College of Western Pennsylvania. Renee’ is still in pursuit of excellence towards her mark for higher education. She is working on her sixth book and has numerous works published globally which can be seen in cubm.org/news, KWEE Magazine, Leaves of Ink, Raven Cage Poetry and Prose Ezine, Realistic Poetry International, Scarlet Leaf Publishing House, SickLit Magazine, The Metro Gazette Publishing Company, Inc., Tuck, and Whispers Magazine just to name a few. Civil Rights Activist, Ms. Rutha Mae Harris, Original Freedom Singer of the Civil Rights Movement, was responsible for having Drummond-Brown’s very first poem published in the Metro Gazette Publishing Company, Inc., in Albany, GA. Renee’ also has poetry published in several anthologies and honorable mentions to her credit in variouswriting outlets. Renee’ won and/or placed in several poetry contests globally and her books are eligible for nomination for a Black Book award in Southampton County Virginia. She was Poet of the Month 2017, Winner in the Our Poetry Archives and prestigious Potpourri Poets/Artists Writing Community in the past year. She has even graced the cover of KWEE Magazine in the month of May, 2016. Her love for creative writing is undoubtedly displayed through her very unique style and her work solidifies her as a force to be reckoned with in the literary world of poetry. Renee’ is inspired by non-other than Dr. Maya Angelou, because of her, Renee’ posits “StillIwrite, I write, and I’ll write!”