It’s Here… (Nanowrimo)

It’s upon me, the month

it’s all stitched tightly

together. In a month, it’ll have eyes


to peek through drawn curtains

a hand to reach from the dark

alleys of their imagination,


a sultry, whispering voice

that’s neither charming

or alarming but enticing,


commanding, urging them to climb,

run and jump, dash

and breathe deeper, think quicker


harvest their adrenaline

to think two, three steps ahead

to figure the encounter, to look further


with my words, my lines

and my slant rhymes

that define my stalking tale.


With skin, bones and flesh

entailed, it’ll rise – rise!

and feed on your fright.


It’s hungry, famished

from it’s fight for life, it’s coming.

It’s creeping, it’s headed this way


– B. Brown

(image courtesy of pinterest; by Bernie Wrightson)


Nanowrimo is officially here, ya’ll! I’m about halfway through my novel and confident that it’ll be ready for editing by the end of this month. My goal is to complete at least one chapter a day. It’ll be tough because I’m juggling work, school, parenting and another poetry collection that I would love to have completed by the end of this year. 

Who’s all participating this year? I feel I finally have the right equipment, skill and mind set. I’m ready. I’m soooo ready for this challenge. What are your goals? What are you aiming for? 




My Story Still Continues…

I published my first book back in November. I emptied everything I struggled with into it and then sent it off to the world. My friend asks me why I haven’t been promoting it and I told her the truth, even though it was kind of silly.

The truth is that I’m a teeny bit embarrassed about how much I put into it. I gave it my all, like I was supposed to but still, putting such tender pieces of myself onto those pages… it’s like I’m not ready for the entire world to know yet.


I still relieved it’s out there and I know that it could help someone who struggles with loss and their faith just like I do. At least from these pages, someone will know they’re not alone. That there is someone else out there with the same hang ups about family, love and death.

If you’re interested, you can find my book here: Amnesia

I’m working on another collection of poetry as well. This one will be a little less solemn as it is about learning love and understanding the beauty of our nature. My story still continues and I hope to share more with you guys soon.

Childhood Treasure

it wasn’t a doll,
though I had plenty,
or the cars or blocks
lost in my memories

I had teddy bears
from wall to wall
even footballs
and basket balls

she wanted me
to have it all
all she never did
but mostly what I miss

are the hardcovers
and paperbacks
she’d read aloud
with me in her lap

– B. Brown

(image courtesy of Pinterest)


now I spit out

the bloody tooth

and smile

nothing scares me

I’ve already seen

my death

come on, that’s it

what else you got

for me?

– B. Brown

This poem is from my book, Amnesia. Sometimes I have to go back and look at earlier poems to find my place again…

I Believed She’d Always Be

I Believed She’d Always Be

youthfully drowsy, I believed she’d always be

but I felt it, the fragility, the fatigue

the trauma racking mentally, frequently

allowed for it to creep silently, to fester

to make her air thick and her words slick

still, I couldn’t fathom such a stealthy killer

such an intimate thriller for the soul to behold

even behind the scenes, the illusions eased

until the rooms grew dimmer, and they withered

right before my untrusting, denying eyes,

until I was exposed, the smallest one out

stumbling in the dark, no merciful moon

to temper the shock so soon

– B. Brown

This is a poem from my first book, Amnesia. It was a struggle to write the first part because I tore into a lot of dark spaces in my mind. I had to explore and confront that year that poses as only yesterday, when my world distorted and contorted into something unrecognizable. I managed to survive it, though, and come out stronger. But even today, I still wonder how different my life would be if it wasn’t for that plot twist.

(fantasy art: The Drowning Eyes by Cynthia Sheppard)