RENEE DRUMMOND-BROWN - POEMS

​Renee Drummond-Brown is an accomplished poetess with experience in creative writing. She is a (Summa Cum Laude) graduate of Geneva College of Western Pennsylvania and The Center for Urban Biblical Ministry (CUBM). Renee’ is still in pursuit of excellence towards her mark for higher education. She is working on her fourth book and has numerous works published globally which can be seen in cubm.org/news, KWEE Magazine (Liberian L. Review), Leaves of Ink Magazine, New Pittsburgh Courier, Raven Cage Poetry and Prose Ezine Magazine, 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 various writing outlets. The Multicultural Student Services Office of Geneva College presented her with 2nd prize in the Undergraduate Essay Contest. Renee’ also won and/or placed in several poetry contests globally. She was Poet of the Month Winner in the prestigious Potpourri Poets/Artists Writing Community and in the running for Poet of the 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 “Still I write, I write, and I’ll write!”

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The Land of Milk and Honey
 
 
 
My brown mammary glands
extend
across the continents.
Enlarged enough
to feed the homeless.
After-all
This land ‘IZ’
red-man’s land
or
‘WUZ’ thereof.
 
 
 
The land of milk and honey
are mere bosoms
covering
the breast
of emotions and thought
resembling a vaccine;
protecting this
quote-un-quote
great AMERICAN DREAM.
Well
I too “have a dream”
like a ‘King’
 
 
 
I’m infected with your scheme of things.
Not that you care…but
I too dreamt;
a nation fed
off of milk
AND NOT
my honey.
 
 
 
 
Funny,
but you dis me
and my kids.
Sheer reality,
a loss cause
of
this great American dream
 not to include
that
chocolate Nesquik
prelude
amongst your scheme of your things.
 
 
 
Centuries
have come
and past,
but
an enslaved soul,
“made in china”
LOL
was ‘built’ to last
 Well
I too “have a dream”
like a ‘King’:
we simply died
crossing
‘YOUR’ Red Sea.
Therefore,
‘The land’ of Milk and Honey
can never satisfy me
(Nor our children’s children to be).
 
 
 
 
Dedicated to: The wet nurse.
A B.A.D. poem


Tom, Dick, Harry and John
 
 
She struggles,
for she
knows not what she does.
Excuse after excuse;
“what had ‘happen’ ‘wuz’….
 
‘Naw’ ‘cuz’~~~
 
The sins of the mother
fall harder
on the daughter,
and her daughter,
and her daughter
and her daughter
alike.
 
 
Just like the kiss of death;
but then again
a kiss
is just a kiss
is just a kiss,
but
that’s not what they’re after.
A hit or miss
at its best.
You guessed;
pain before pleasure.
Did someone mention
lust
???
Maybe not.
 
Momma
entertains
man after man.
So,
if she can do IT;
so be it,
her daughters can
and so can her grans
and so forth
and so on~~~
Like Marvin Gaye’s 78
scratched
“Let’s get it on”
and on
and on
an on.
After-all,
them daddies been long gone
in the wind.
Therefore,
 every
Tom, Dick and Harry
is equivalent
to a John’
Say it ain’t so?
 
Yeah
we know the deal
and she knows
for real.
She definitely knows
???
 
Season’s come
so,
they won’t live on
but
the wild seed
saturates
her entrenched wound
before the coming of the next sun
which springs forth
leaps and bound;
rearing up
every Tom,
Dick
Harry
and
John.
 
 
Dedicated to: YOU’RE NOT THE FATHER!
A B.A.D. poem
 

2017
 
 
 
A new day
from whence
we overcame.
What if
anything
will ever change?
Absolutely nothing!
In fact
life will resume
just the same.
 
We’ll lie
we’ll cry
we’ll cheat
even
make a
New Year’s resolution sheet;
tuck it away,
an’ sing
some of the very same ol’ same
in 1918.
 
What a shame
a new year.
Auld Lang Syne
waisted
time gone by
a different day
without
a shadow of a doubt
the same ol’
same ol’
game.
 
 
Dedicated to: Anew un-Happy New Year!
 
A B.A.D. poem
 

Trouble in My Way; I ‘Gotta’ Cry Sometime
 
 
 
Us black women
know ‘bout’ trouble.
No one hears
our faintest cries.
Nor
answers us
by and by.
 
 
 
 
In fact,
we come
under
ALL MANNER
of everyone’s attack.
After
attack
after attack.
But,
we press on,
burying
our sons
after
son
after sons.
 
 
And yet,
still yet,
with a smile
we give good measure
pressed down
shaken fold
together.
 
 
 
And still yet,
who cares
bout any o’ that?
We’re to have
absolutely
no feelings at all.
Cause
Maya said
“we rise”
“we rise”
“we rise”
but I say
“we fall”
“we fall”
“we fell”
from grace;
sheer disgrace.
What happened to the black woman?
What has she become?
She breast fed a nation
AND FORGOT
to feed
her very own!!!
 
 
All that’s left
is a ‘breastless’
mother
with
an empty chest.
But remember
“we rise”
“we rise”
“we rise”.
BUT
FOR WHAT?
No one’s even there
to catch us.
Nor
do they care
when ‘WE’ fall.
Lest we forget.
 
Shadrach,
Meshach
and a B.A.D. Negro;
WE WAS THERE
WITH YOU
in that fiery furnace
ALSO.
DON’T YOU THINK 
a black woman
don’t know.
Although a skeleton;
one thing for sure
two
for certain,
we know
we know
we know
how to eat us
some crow
and
we ALSO know
‘bout’ troubles,
THIS
FOR CERTAIN
I
DO
KNOW!
 
 
 
Dedicated to: B.A.D.
I knew all about your troubles; I had to cry sometimes.
 
A B.A.D. poem
 

She Went Forth To and Fro
 
 
 
That black bird couldn’t land,
to pluck
her olive leaf
cause she foresaw
in
“The Red Sea”
The Black Holocaust
intended for
our history.
Not the doves,
but hers
(you see)
according to
Thee.
 
Where’s her pride?
She mislaid it
somewhere
washed away at sea.
 
 
Now she wonders
to and fro
featherless wings;
away
from herself
and
even
from me.
 
 
Dedicated to:
“And he sent forth a raven,
which went forth to and fro,
until the waters
were dried up from off the earth”
(Genesis 8:7 KJV).
 
 
A B.A.D. poem