RENEE DRUMMOND-BROWN - POEMS

Author Reneé Drummond-Brown is a renowned author residing in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. She holds a Master of Arts degree in creative writing with a concentration in poetry from Chatham University. She also holds a Bachelor of Science degree in Christian Ministry Leadership with a minor in biblical theology studies, graduating summa cum laude from Geneva College of Western Pennsylvania. In addition, she received an Associate of Arts degree in Christian Ministry at The Center for Urban Biblical Ministry (CUBM), where she served as class president and graduated in the top 5% of her class. She is still in pursuit of excellence towards her mark for higher education.
 
While at CUBM, her writing career blossomed into Reneé’s Poems with Wings are Words in Flight, a phrase that eloquently coins her work. The dominant themes of her writings are spiritually based. She has been led to write about blacks’ history, The Civil Rights Movement, slavery, family, and the African American woman who at times is taken for granted. Drummond-Brown’s poems with wings metaphorically points to this scripture “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).
 
Drummond-Brown has published several poems, one of which was written for the Original Freedom Singer of The Civil Rights Movement, the legendary Ms. Rutha Mae Harris. The poem was published by Judith Hampton-Thompson, of The Metro Gazette Publishing Company, Inc., Albany Georgia. Drummond-Brown is the author of several poetry books to date, and her work can be seen across the globe in various anthologies, programs and magazines. Her poetry and essays have placed in several contests. She has received accolades each year since she started writing in 2013. Because her work is viewed on a global scale this solidifies her as a force to be reckoned with-in the literary world of poetry. Drummond-Brown is inspired by none other than Dr. Maya Angelou, and because of her, Drummond-Brown posits “Still I write, I write, and I’ll write!”

She Used To Be A Queen You Know
​

Danesha Maria Dixon rose January 22nd , 1986.
She entered a world
of possibilities adding by far sure bliss.
Everything she touched turned 24kt gold.
She is definitely, so very loved, and, so very missed.
 
She used to be a Pre-teen Queen you know
in her own right.
The Tiara.
The walk.
The wave.
The talk.
Her swag.
She.
Had it all.
She.
Answered God’s call.
 
Gone way too soon.
And YES…I repeat,
definitely missed by us all.
 
The middle child, of 4 was Danesha’s claim to fame.
She required minimal. If not, a little more.
Momma Kim said, she had an infectious smile and never spoke many words…
But always found meaningful gestures, and kind things to say was her lure.
Her actions modeled her personal gains.
(Take notes. Take notes.)
Her sheer love for family
was her stamped signature trait
that certified her as monarch’s royalty.
 
Dad, Mom, siblings and family
were ever so proud when Mary Ellen Pollinitz
crowned Danesha her Tiara crown.
She was a Pre-teen Queen you know…
The Tiara.
The walk.
The wave.
The talk.
Her swag.
She.
Had it all.
She.
Answered God’s call.
 
The queen consort modeled sovereignty
as she ruled lovingly using
1 Corinthians 13:13: 
“And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.”
The empress Danesha ruled lovingly.
She was a Pre-teen Queen you know
The Tiara.
The walk.
The wave.
The talk.
Her swag.
She.
Had it all.
She.
Answered God’s call.
 
Purple was her enchanted colour.
And yeeees, the colour of the day.
Danesha had a swag of grandeur.
Extravagance.
Magnificence.
Dignity.
Brilliance and radiance.
And Yessss, even “Your Majesty” come what may…
Or shall we say,
“Your Highness” best suits Danesha’s royal name?
 
Her vibrant heart was of transparent glass.
Somehow, she foresaw
His first shall be last and His last shall be first
So, she dares answer His Divine Call.
Indestructible. Resilient. Shatterproof.
Sporting purple wings and all.
Our bad. Danesha, you’re now unbreakable acrylic
and were never glass by far.
 
Devoted to family, and Clark Atlanta College
is where her time was spent most;
gathering knowledge, reflections, and memories
to store and share with The Father, His Son and The Holy Ghost.
 
Purple owns her royalty,
and while, nobility knew Danesha by name…
Lights, camera, and action…depicts her rare breed.
Therefore, Danesha’s patiently waiting in heaven
to show Candy, David and Davon her architectural Engineer Designs
turning her mere Tiera into a permanent glorified crown.
 
Your Royal Highness lives on
in our imperial family, friends, and especially,
in both Dad and Mom.
Danesha, you’re so loved and missed. But, by far…Surely
you’re a Pre-teen Queen you know.
Your timeless tiara.
Your willingness walk.
Your warm wave.
Your treasured talk.
Your savvy swag.
And with God 
now by your side, you do have it all.
And in our hearts and mind; you’re not gone at all.
 
 
She used to be A Queen you know…
 
 
Dedicated To:
David Sr., Kim, Candy, David Jr., and Davon for the Memory of “our” sweet Pre-teen Queen who the Sun-set on January 7, 2006.
 
A RocDeeRay Production
​

Dethroned
​

Hell to the king!
Hell to the king!
Hell to the king!
 
You thought you played your Queen, you better
think again, she ranked you king;
took care of you, and all your outside kids.
 
She worked for your status,
while you took advantage.
You can’t divert a curse.
You can’t buy a verse.
You’re simply a jackass.
Now, which is worse?
A donkey with no hope, or a jackass without a home.
 
You’re a jack of all trades,
incompetent, and mean.
Master of none.
 
Hail to your Queen!
Hail to your Queen!
Hail to your Queen!
 
How does it feel?
Being dethroned?
 
Dedicated to: “GET OUT!”
 
A B.A.D. Poem
​

NO COMPRENDO
​

Hey you elites, with them fancy degrees sittin’ high
on political seats. Looking down low. Only one problem, us commoners
don’t ev’n know what in the hell language you speak. Why lie?
Harvard, Yale, and PrinceTON (combined)
deciding the hoods fate (what a sick joke); they wouldn’t ev’n know
a home invasion, from a drive by, from Eden’s brilliant snakes’ dirt.
A snake, IZ a snake, IZ a snake. And education
iZ fake when operating out of ones’
tree of knowledge; evil vs. good lane.
 
Who do ya’llz think you’re ‘kiddin?
After-all,
dems’ street lawyers understand you better than you think.
The problem iZ, you don’t know the designer hood
from raunchy-wretched-ratchet street games.
 
 
Dedicated to: What is the square root of the designed PROJECT(S) brAin boyze?
 
A RocDeeRay Production
​

Kernels
​

We’ze a tree.
Planted by ‘da water.
Ain’t gone be moved.
A colored-gal;
‘dat’s who we be.
 
Dedicated to: ‘Feets don’t fail us now.
 
A RocDeeRay Production
​

UP THE ANTE
​

I’ve heard of wars, an’ rumors of wars.
I’ve heard these things must come to pass.
I’ve heard I should not be troubled. Or
better-yet, our end is still not, yet, to come. Alas
7 trumpets will sound aloud, and roar of thunder all the more…
Blow that horn trumpet-man.
This AIN’T gossip. No sir. PERIOD. No mam.
Roll call y’all:
 

1. Sound off: Blood, fire and hail will taint God’s green earth.

The first trumpet sounds.
 

1. Sound-off: Trumpet sounds alarm the great mountain tops, valley-lows,

to burning down them deep blue seas drowning out
those fish who swam all year long round and about.
Some will wish the plastic of the sea were the only
troubles’ to worry about.

Sorry Charlie, we’ll ask any mermaid we happen see
for surplus tuna; for our children who’ll be in dire need of feed.
Heaven help our ships Lord.
Please! Please!! Oh please!!!
The second trumpets sounds.
 

1. Sound-off: Wormwood descends to the earth;

star of wonder, star of night,
and yeZ, we’ll know EXACTLY what it feels like
for those kids who been beggin’ for Bread an’ thirst.
Rivers and springs will no longer know us by name.
That rancorous taste will take us out for the count, and
float in her riverbed our heartless, callous, stony remains.
“I/we had a dream.”
The third trumpet sounds.
 

1. Sound-off: Sum’ of the light stolen from the sun, moon and

stars shine real dark…This, that, anna’ third. You THIEF
in the night. WOE. WOE. WOE. Catastrophe breeds contempt.
It’s us Lord. It’s me. Lord please state your case?
five, six, seven (not eight)…all us chillins’ won’t make it in heaven.
Are you sure of this? I’m sure, that He’s sure of it?
The fourth trumpet sounds.
 

1. Sound-off: WOE. It’s me, the first of three.

Sum’ flyin’ with wings like an eagle.
Sum’ gone run. Yezzz.
And not get weary when them 3 seraphim’s come. Yezzz.
Sum’ gone walk. Yezzz.
Sum gone faint when that keyless star nev’r hits rock bottom.
Poof. Smoke. And John’s locust are unleashed.
Flyin’-men with lion teeth, protected by the breastplate of an iron fist.
Yeah, they’ll mount up with wings commanded by a king
not doing a single solitary dog-on thAng; iZ their only strength.
The fifth trumpet sounds.
 

1. Sound-off: WOE. WOE. Eden’s great river “Euphrates,” returns. Brimstone, fire, and smoke, ooze plagues (like in the dayZe of MoZez) from horses, cept, 200 million mounted troops ride on dem’ lion-head stallions

with that Eden’s serpent-head. We’ll, wanna crush his head
but them plagues will kill a third of all mankind…jus’ like ‘ole-times
(and the Word says). Dead, iz dead, iz dead. Ask Pharaoh’s and his haughty kind?
The six trumpet sounds.
 

1. Sound-off: WOE. WOE. WOE. Last but not least;

simultaneously, resurrection and rapture,
“And the seventh angel sounded; and there were great voices in heaven, saying,
The kingdoms of this world are become the kingdoms of our Lord, and
of his Christ; and
he shall reign for ever and ever” Revelation 11:15 (KJV). And
all deemed worthy see the Kingdom come. And
them others see seven wraths of God. And
the seventh trumpet sounds. And
then the-end. Amen.
 
 
 
Dedicated to: Blow one’s own trumpet.
 
 
 
A RocDeeRay Production
​

WE ALREADY MADE AMERICA GREAT!
​

When you see us ‘walkin;
we’re ‘runnin.
 
When you see us ‘sittin;
we’re ‘standin.
When you see us quiet;
we’re screamin.
 
When you see us mute;
we’re ‘talkin.
 
When you see us shiftless;
we’re ‘workin.
 
When you see us ‘fussin;
WE’RE PRAYING!
 
When you see us ‘sleepin;
We’re inside Dr. Martin Luther King Jr’s., dream.
 
Dedicated to: 1600’s + forty winks + forty acres + a mule= the mountaintop. ‘Sumone ‘gotta dream???
 
A RocDeeRay Production
​

A Fatigued March of Faith
​

To those that hate you;
march on Christian soldiers.
To those that hurt you;
march on Christian soldiers.
To those that break you;
march on Christian soldiers.
 
 
To those that kill you;
you’ve no protest left.
 
 
Dedicated to: Miss your heavy shoes B.A.D.
 
 
 
A RocDeeRay Production
​

Edible Fruit
​

Had her cake, and ate it to. Some
call-her Mrs. Jones, with a
thang gone-on. Say it ain’t so?
It-ain’t right though.
She’s sho-nuff wrong. As two
left-feets’. But. The other-lover
sweeps-her off them streets,
while the pimp needs a dolla-dolla
bill yall. ‘Holla! Afterall, he-do ‘gotta-eat.
 
Along comes a-son to sit-down beside-her.
She-just-got-bit.
By an itsy-bitsy-spider.
 
 
Dedicated to: Creature of habit.
 
 
 
A RocDeeRay Production
​

Soul Brother
​

Fellow black man.
We’ve no protest left.
 
Slavery
has dealt you dark.
 
So gloomy.
So somber.
So foggy.
 
So clouded.
So drab.
So ambiguous.
 
So deprived.
So dull.
So vague.
 
So nebulous.
So deep.
So tenebrous.
 
So shady.
So dim.
So murky.
 
So anonymous to your helpmate;
the best of you is stripped.
 
A fatigued march of faith;
your women have no protest left.
 
 
Dedicated to: Widowed.
 
 
A RocDeeRay Production

​I Said A Little Prayer for You

​I Reneé Drummond-Brown pray on these things:
 
Father God,
I ask that Your peace surpasses all understanding and “just” be still in the midst of such trying times.
I ask for prayer for our Government and all Governments’ alike across the globe being right and/or being wrong.
I ask that our government step back, and view the situation from a birds eye view seeing the bigger picture through the eyes of an innocent child (Father-God,  please protect “all” of “Your” children across the globe during these trying times).
I ask that the men and women of the armed forces pray and walk through the front lines with God before them, beside them, behind them, and all around about them. I also ask You God; please sustain all men and women on those front lines.
I ask that humanity (red, yellow, black, brown, and white) across the globe stand on one accord to pray these words, "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference" (Serenity Prayer).
I ask that our greed and religious disagreements be put aside, and we learn valuable lessons from past mistakes as it relates to casualties of war, slavery of the Afro-American people and the aftermath we as a people still suffer today, as well as the unfair treatment of women, children, and humanity as a whole.
Lastly, Father God, show mankind “again,” through the words of songwriter Edwin Starr,
“War, what it is good for?
ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!”
Amen. 
Dedicated to: “All” mankind. I LOVE YOU.
 
 
A RocDeeRay Production
 
 

We Shall Overcome. WHEN?
​

​Oh freedom. When you gone come for us?
Been through ruin.
Been through storms.
Been through life.
Been through misery, slavery,
unnecessary envy, jalousies, hurt, and strife.
Been through pain.
Been through rains.
Been through Noah’s hails; 40 days. 40 nights.
Been through shame.
Been through hate.
Been through war.
Been through family, foe, and friends-envy plus “sum” more.
Been through spiritual death.
Been through all manner of attacks;
ev’n through an’ unfair
‘crooked’ deck-stacked.
 
 
Oh freedom,
Will you ev’r rescue us,
an’ get Satan off our roadmap backs?
 
 
Dedicated to: Us ‘gotta King of spade. What you holding?
 
 
A RocDeeRay Production
 

Biblical Portraits
​

The Creator of our photograph,
i.e., The Photographer owns
our copyrights, and paints
the picture-perfect paintings
of images He personally wove.
 
 
He splats His BLUES!
Copying Calvary’s red blood shed,
cause our repetitive curse photocopies, and indisputably
weighs-in on The Good Infallible News.
 
 
He splats His BLACK!
Reflecting as the Knight to remind us
of a Thief coming back
for one of a kind.
 
 
He splats His BROWN!
Likened unto fine brass, burned
inna fiery furnace; cooking up coppered
toned feet as His voice commands the rush
of cooling waters. Yeah.
Coal became His colour.
 
 
He splats His WHITE!
Paralleling our natural afro-ed woolly,
confused, crocheted, knitted, woven, woolen, vague,
unfocused numbered hairs; mirroring,
none other than, His nappy DNA.
 
 
He splats His GREEN!
Representing wealth
echoing His pure heart,
outlining worth, Eden’s cherubim’s,
 and Genesis’ perfect Mother-Earth.
Africa! Afrika!! Oh Africa?
God shed His grain on thee.
 
 
He splats His PURPLE!
Vis-à-vis the Afro-centric culture
as decent, distinguished, gentlemanly, magnanimous,
honorable, noble, principled, suave
and up-right royal men.
 
 
Yeah.
Take a closer look at the flaws
in our picture-perfect images
before discarding them as fake(s).
 
 
Dedicated to: Picture perfect paintings.
 
A RocDeeRay Production
​

Pullin’ Dead Weight
​

God didn’t appoint you MoZez to carry their
dead weight into the Promised Land, and
He didn’t shackle your
feet to pull their lazy cans and hands, and
He didn’t design your mind
to cogitate their dreams while they walk blind and
serve them on a gold plate with a silver spoon and
loan ‘em money and buy ‘em property too;
co-sign their cars notes, and buy ‘em land and
handicap ‘em just cause you can. Pullin’
dead weight will cost you your dreams and
then you expire. And those same “6” dead-weighted liars
won’t even be pallbearers to carry you home-based. Lest you die.
 
 
Dedicated to:
“God didn’t appoint you Moses to carry their dead weight into the Promised Land”
(Reneé Drummond-Brown).
 
 
A RocDeeRay Production
​