Tag: poems

Expedition

.Reading time 2 minutes.

This journey is unlike anything I could’ve imagined ( good thing this whole thing isn’t my daydream). Because I didn’t think I had it in me, this thing that everyone else saw in me. This thing that earned me the honor of teaching twenty-two blossoming minds.

I was only substituting for about a month and a half before this kindergarten class was tossed into my lap.

I’m considered a long-term substitute; these babies are mine for the rest of the year. I don’t have a teaching certification. My BA didn’t have anything to do with education. I didn’t even want this responsibility. But anyone who is a writer knows about the call to adventure, when the protagonist’s world turns upside down, random people start coming out of no where and the protagonists begins to learn things they wouldn’t have thought to ask about.

And it’s funny because when I prayed, all I asked for was a little push in the right direction. I want to teach college level one day and all I wanted was to be shown the way…

And I think I’ve hit that first conflict. I haven’t been able to write or read or do anything like that for me. I wasn’t able to finish the first draft of my novel for Nanowrimo and I’m only six chapters away. Honestly, I’m crying on the inside, trying to figure out what’s going to come next because I know where my heart really lies; it’s in my writing.

I don’t know where I’m going with this – with this career shift or this blog post. I guess this is me just trying to figure it out, coming to terms with what I’ve asked for.

It just feels strange, knowing that I was heard.

And answered so swiftly.

What does this mean?

– B. Brown

(art by Randall David Tipton: Logjam)

I’ve Returned

.Reading time 1 minute.

and where’ve I been?

easing from under the shade
of my apple tree
whose roots have broken concrete,
whose fruits have fallen
too soon
from the faintest winds,

where have I been?

cowering amongst rotten cores
and tics disguised as seeds
hailing Mary
every time I thought
I heard my mirror speak…

but my reflection wasn’t my own
not that I could even recognize
myself without a tight scarf of smoke

my reflection wasn’t own
I learned that my demons
could shape-shift at will
and they will

where I’ve been
is seeking sanctuary
in the calloused hands of hope
savoring grains of salt
praying that the price I paid
to uproot everything I know
will return to me
seven-fold
and glimmering
with the honest of golds

and truth be told
where I’ve been
now seems eons away
and dozens of crates of mold
I was cheaply sold ago
before I chose to make
that harassing Holy Ghost
my home

home,
here, amongst potential
around the influential
facing a promising venue
of what I could do
what I should do
and will do

I’m here,
found again
never to be lost again…

– B. Brown

[image courtesy of Pinterest]

The Gamble for Gold

.Reading time less than 1 minute.

you wouldn’t see it
in the wrinkle of my brow

or know it
even as I told it
with a quivering frown

or hear it
in my shaking voice

how I felt
that I had no choice

but to risk it
and run with it
with you

for a chance
to love again

before it all
fell away again

– B. Brown

(image courtesy of Pinterest)

Just In Case No One Told You…

.Reading time less than 1 minute.

You are good and lovely, inside and out. Others view you as strong and capable. They see you as smart. Sometimes you doubt the truth of your value. But no matter what, I own the ultimate measure of your worth. Only My opinion matters, and I consider you an irreplaceable treasure. You can be confident […]

via Ultimate Measure — Spoken to Me

(Glitter Fashion Photography, photo courtesy of Pinterest)

Witnesses

.Reading time 1 minute.

you may have posted a poem the other day
about heartache and frustration
or maybe you shared a short romantic story
one that’d been simmering in your mind for ages
or maybe you had the strength to drag
a traumatic experience out into the open
as memoir or journal entry…

what ever it was, it felt good getting out, right?
(I can’t describe the satisfying feeling
I get letting my works flap their wings
and take off for their soaring sprees)

but it’s never the end of our stories

what we write, will live on forever,
finding themselves in unlikely hands,
changing minds and hearts
echoing a unique human experience
for it’s audience; it’s the audience
that impacts the imaginative world’s journey

so, we have to prepare for the pupils that screen our words,
the inner ears that hear our whispers
the thoughts that can thwart or carry our themes…
we should want to know who’s reading,
who’ll want more of what, our harsh honesty or vivid dreams?

who are we writing for? for what reason?
you’ll want to know who’s reading, who’s listening
because if there’s no one around
will your tale prevail?
will it still traverse it’s itinerary?

will it still be worth happening?

– B. Brown

(image by Wesley Burt)

Gitanjali 35 – Rabindranath Tagore, (1861 – 1941)

.Reading time less than 1 minute.

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action—
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

– Rabindranath Tagore

(image by Alex DeForest)

In 2018, we’re going to stay woke, driven and kind to ourselves. And eat more veggies. Happy New Years!

Stake

.Reading time less than 1 minute.

don’t weaken yourself
for someone
with something to prove,
they’ll jump
to make an example out of you,
no matter the record,
no matter the truth

their ego
will always
outweigh you

– B. Brown

(art by: Antony Gormley, CAPACITOR)

Allow Me to Finally Introduce Myself

.Reading time 6 minutes.

Good morning everyone! I think it’s time that I introduce myself. My name is Breanna Brown. I’m twenty-six, mother of one and I just started a master’s program for English. Currently, I work as a waitress in the state of Nevada.

My daughter is five, sassy and silly. We own a little red corn snake by the name of Baby Doll and she’s the sweetest little thing. We spend most of our time going out to eat, when we really shouldn’t; goofing off at the park or mall; and playing board games and puzzles.

    

When I’m not parenting, studying or writing, I am reading poetry or the book I’m currently on: Cerulean Sins by Laurell K. Hamilton. Or, I’m blasting my music and dancing my heart out. Or I’m beading or sewing. Or eating three times my body weight of french fries.

I am a daughter, a neice, a sister, an aunt, a girlfriend and that annoying friend that’s always in everybody’s shit about happiness and spirituality. I love people but I’m a bit of a hermit. Part of it out of being a punk, another is, I’m kind of socially awkward (I’m practicing being brave), and the other, being around a lot of people is just very draining for me.

I don’t claim a religion, although I love learning about them. Hinduism, Buddhism and Voudoo are my favorite faiths. I do believe in God, very much so. He’s been so good to me and we have a very close relationship. Crystals, tarot cards, meditation and prayer is how we keep contact but He’s a constant presence in my life, always teaching, guiding and blessing me.

Astronomy, Physics, Quantum Mechanics, Psychology, Sociology and Anatomy are some of my other interests. I love learning, I have a hunger for knowledge.

I collect decorative skulls, elephants, tapestries, stones, notebooks and pens. My favorite show at the moment is Stranger Things, my other favorites are Naruto, X-files, Will and Grace, The Magic School Bus, The Exorcist, Forensic Files and any show about space, aliens or paranormal investigation. As far as music goes, I love it all but there will always be a special place in my heart for rap music. My favorite artists are Kendrick Lamar, Snoop (and all the other mothers and fathers of rap), Rihanna, Schoolboy Q, Missy Elliot, Prince and a few others I can’t think of at the moment.

                   

I have dreams of becoming the Rihanna of the literary world; readingandwriting is what I live for. Ever since I was a toddler, I dreamed of publishing dozens of books, maybe even some of them becoming movies. This year has been a life changing step towards that goal, I actually have my first book out and at the beginning of this year, I didn’t think it would be possible. There was a time period where I wasn’t writing because I was too busy resisting life and working through trauma. When my passion was reawakened, I felt so grateful to have found it again. It was like I was giving a second chance to do what I came to this planet to do: to live, love and teach through my writing.

I’ve never felt so determined or so comfortable with making sacrifices to achieve my dreams. Like, there’s no other choice, I have a duty. I hope to make myself, my daughter and my mother proud.

I also wanted to thank all of you, again, for supporting and encouraging me. You guys really have no idea how much joy I get from waking up to a wonderful comment on my writing. For so long, I struggled with confidence in my work and ya’ll have been so open, kind and real with your feedback. Thank you for helping me grow as a writer.

with love,

B. Brown

(P.S. The book I mentioned earlier, I self-published my own collection of poetry not too long ago. It’s called Amnesia and it consists of poems about dealing with my mother’s death, my world turning upside down and finding God.

When I started it, it was just a way to try to cope and heal but it took on a life of its own. I didn’t realize I had a story to tell until I had pages and pages of material. If you’re struggling with loss, grief and finding hope, then this may help you. I learned a lot from my experiences. If you want to check it out, and support a sister in a process, then here’s the link: https://www.amazon.com/Amnesia-poems-suffering-enlightenment-faith-ebook/dp/B077H6FPNJ/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1511614780&sr=8-2&keywords=amnesia+Breanna+Brown 

 

To Walk on Water…

.Reading time 3 minutes.

the single cell amoeba
sends out it’s distress signal
in the form of a secretion
that attracts other
single cells…

safety in numbers,
fish maintain
a closed distance
from one another,
constantly keeping tabs,
not too close, not too far
just enough to up
the odds of survival
should nature decide
to rush it’s course…

and it’s the same
for our famed avian,
collectively riding
magnetic winds,
formations reforming
according to the shift
in elements,
highly efficient
as one…

and what are the bees
without their queen?
what is the pride
without their king?
what are the packs
without their alpha?

these, algorithms,
these rules of life,
of survival, of existence
of community, of society
are prevalent everywhere

even with our kind

but the funny thing is,
for some reason,
one way or another,
we can generate
new algorithms,
new ways of life

we have options

we don’t need
secretions
to provoke a congregation
(did I push a button?)

we don’t need
to keep others
just within our reach
for detection,
for protection
(is the shoe starting to fit?)

we don’t need
formations
and patterns
to really feel,
to get where
we need to be
(did you forget
you’re a spiritual
being?)

we have autonomy,
individuality,
in a universe
constantly conspiring

we have
an unmatched form
of navigating
for survival,
through community
throughout society,
of our existence

that’s right,
we can navigate
our own existence

so there’s no need
to be a part
of a sluggish consciousness,
there’s no need
to swim blindly
with the purely surviving,
there’s no need
to clutter the horizon
with the rest of ’em,
you don’t necessarily
need a queen,
or to carry a king
or be ruled
by an alpha…

unless that’s your place,
and that’s just fine,
in a way,
it isn’t any less divine

but what if you could be
a multi-celled anomaly?
what if you were
destined to walk on land?
what if you could
survive the flight
to holy heights?

what if you need no form?
what if you could walk on water?
what if you could make it to the sun?

what if,
my darling,
what if?

– B. Brown

(painting by Linda Olsen)