RENEE B. DRUMMOND - POEMS

​Renee B. Drummond is a renown poetria and artist from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. She is the author of: The Power of the Pen, SOLD TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER, Renee’s Poems with Wings are Words in Flight-I’ll Write Our Wrongs, and Renee’s Poems with Wings are Words in Flight. Her work is viewed on a global scale and 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 “Still I write, I write, and I’ll write!”

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​EVERY MAN IS AN ISLAND

Every man is an island
Alone answering for one’s soul
Alone in the grave
Alone in death
Alone in grief
Alone in sin and furies of insanities plea
 

 
 
Alone in truths
Alone in lies
Alone in mess
Alone in friction
Alone in bitterness
Alone in cries
Alone in loneliness
 
 
 
Alone in the fight
Alone in shame
Alone in the shuffle
Alone in the why’s???
Alone in the night
Alone in the game
 
 
 
Alone in wealth
Alone in leadership
Alone in the struggle
Alone in growth
Alone in the climb
Alone in poverty
Alone in schizophrenic mind(S)
 
 
 
 
 
Alone at birth.
No man is an island is a brazen lie
at best. But, alone…
One man can change the world
and make
a difference!
 
 Dedicated to:  Alone we return and alone we enter.
 
A RocDeeRay Poem
 

AND A CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM? ​

What happened to the fight we once
had within us? What happened to holding on throughout
our midnights? What happened to prayin through those storms,
winds and boisterous rains? Until clear. Out of sight! What happen to lifting our
brothers up? And ‘NOT’ giving them the drank or the drugs! What happen
to educating our girlz on virtues, cleanliness and boyz? What happen to teaching them, to iron, cook, sew, clean and their culture? What happen to hiding the Scriptures
in their hearts?
WHERE MY SOLIDERS AT?
​HERE WE ARE.
10 years old, livin an dyin on our VERY own. Getting shot as a sport.
Homeless in this thang called “The Hood.” A war zone at its best…But. If…there IZ a God??? We’ve been passed that test!!! 2 to the head 1 to the chest…Means absolutely nothin in this sick war! Society cares nothin bout us. A local bridge holds our cots and cups. Another homeless, cares for us. And he got NOTHIN but pity minus sum luv. The news don’t report what we have to say. Healthcare at 26, years of age? What a sick joke!
WE’RE OUT HERE dyin anyway! Keep it. If it makes you retract and repeal. Keep it. Cause we’re the one’s in the army now; drafted without consent. Did I say 10 years old? Truth be told I’m 9 taking care of one 7, 6 and five. I think. No birth certificates. I’m in the REAL army now and uncle sam don’t even know who I am? Scripture proclaims “And a child shall lead them” (Isaiah 11:6) Well here I am! Behind the veil. Ever so ready to dwell with both wolf and the lamb. Shhh.
Silence of the lamb(S).
The law of the land is evolution that tames the dog..and here I am, a soldier
that didn’t ask for this job (AT ALL) and undeniably knows no wrong!

You asked
but do you really want to know, or even care?
HERE WE ARE
we’re in y‘OUR’ army now
1, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, and 1 year olds.
Dedicated to: “I believe the children are our future. Teach them well and let them lead the way”
(George Benson).
A RocDeeRay and A B.A.D. Poem

KNOCKED WAAAY OUT THE PARK!!

Don’t take her out to the ball game.
She wants not your peanuts nor crackerjacks. Surprise!
She remembers the very first strike! Then strike 2,
came. Her family and friends knew not just what to do! Strike 3. GRAND SLAM;
was hard as can be and she lost all sense of time and memory! God said
twas’ a home run! Cause when she awoke
she was standing in judgement of His Only Begotten Son.
 
Don’t take me out to no ball games!
And I surely don’t want no peanuts
nor crackerjacks, cause I care waaay too much, about getting back!
 
 Dedicated to: Domestic Violence Awareness
 
A RocDeeRay Poem

CYCLES

Momma told her not to do IT.
IT was done; she did not LISTEN
LISTEN to her, for what, and why, she too did it, AFTER-ALL?
AFTER-ALL, she had her at 16.
16, she, herself, should’ve been pristine CLEAN.
CLEAN as bleach on a summers CLOTHESLINE.
CLOTHESLINES, yeah, not soils hung out to DRY.
DRY stains. Tide can’t even get these out, nor CAN;
CAN a praise and/or SHOUT!
SHOUT it out!!! Should’ve been playin wit dolls, jacks and balls til 9:00.
NINE months to GO.
GO to jail…do not pass go til 18
EIGHTEEN-year BIDS.
BIDS her FAREWELL.
FAREWELL Momma says, “I told you so.”
 
Dedicated to: Recurrences
 
A RocDeeRay Poem

THEFT BY DECEPTION

I can’t remember his name. But I know;
we loved once. I can’t remember his game,
but I know that I was always sent back to start, and it was a good one. I can’t remember a thang. But,
he says to me, we once said “I do.”  If, this is true. Theft by deception
is ev’r so cruel. 911 what can I do?
 
Dedicated to: Alzheimer's Disease (Awareness)
A RocDeeRay Poem
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