Monday, April 27, 2015

Questions by the Restless Sea

Standing on the silver shore

by the shining sea

Seabirds fly

and seabirds dive,

Like thoughts inside of me

as ocean waves toss and roll

so my heart heaves inside:

Will I go or, will I stay

Here by this restless tide?

~Kathie Adams Brown (April 27, 2015)

Sunday, April 26, 2015

A Seaside Goodbye to My Son

It was just a
walk to the bay, where
silver water shines, and
steel wool clouds cover the sky
perfumed with the scent of the salty sea,
today it is the fragrance of parting.
You are my son,
Tall man and strong,
I see my son,
I see my boy,
in the man you have become.
I am content with who you are.
My heart swells like the sea,
inflated by this tide of love,
these few moments together
before you fly away from me again,
a free bird.

~Kathie Adams Brown (April 25, 2015)

Saturday, April 25, 2015

No Time to Write

I do not have time to write a poem,

To do it I need to be alone,

It has been such a busy week,

I’ve had no time for what I seek!

The words and images just won’t come to me,

No metaphors or similes,

I’ll have to write another day,

When words and I have time to play!

~Kathie Adams Brown (April 25, 2015)

Thursday, April 16, 2015

Hallelujah Forest

I've been waiting for the music of this dark night,
warm on an evening in April
Spring peepers singing from dark, wet woods,
vernal pools alive
with the Rites of Spring
I stand in the darkness listening
as the chorus swells and fills the air
rising like a tide from the forest—
Handel's Hallelujah,
Beethoven’s Ode to Joy,
this is the music I hear
in this woodland cathedral,
rising from the vernal pools
with croaking voices singing,
and all the peepers peeping,
Majestic voices of
Amphibian Angels.

~Kathie Adams Brown (April 16, 2015)

NaPoWriMo 2015 / 30 Poems in 30 Days

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Nana's House

The white Victorian on the edge of the green
gingerbread lace hanging from the eaves
veranda on the corner
neatly tucked in.

Enter through the red front door
you are welcomed,
wrapped in love, embraced by time,
these old things that once were hers:
that old rug, faded and worn,
that certain floorboard that squeaks and sets the tea cups rattling
in the china cupboard
when you pass by.
There is her rocker, empty now but still, I hear its distant music.
I know the yellow paint is peeling off the kitchen walls,
and views out these windows are wobbly from antique glass panes,
but, this room holds her presence,
—cooking at the stove
—feeding grandpa at the old gray Formica table
—preparing holiday dinners
—grading student papers in the evening.

Nana’s house is where we gathered
as a family clan so many years ago.

Now everyone has moved on
far and wide and involved
In their own lives
Yet we all have threads trailing behind us
and tying us back
to this old Home.

 ~Kathie Adams Brown (April 13, 2014)

Monday, April 13, 2015

The Vanity of the Smug

You would not think a man would be shot
For a simple broken taillight.
You would not think a police officer would
shoot a man in the back in cold-blooded murder.
I did not know that broken taillights and running away in fear
were crimes punishable by death
and carried out by one man
as judge, jury and executioner, but
apparently in some parts of this country this is so,
especially if the officer is white
and the person who was murdered commits the crime
of being poor and black.

And the Smug Man Stands
over the dead man with his hands on his hips
and a shield on his breast,
and lies once again.

But this time,
This Time
His shield does not protect!
His shield does not keep him from the consequences of his lie,
because of an ordinary man
and his video camera
Which records the truth
and reveals the lie.

And a nation rises up and says, NO MORE!
And the people rise up and scream, NO MORE!

I do not want to see what I see.
I do not want to believe what I see.
I want to turn away.
I do not want to watch that man being gunned down.
I want to turn the channel and see something nice.
But therein lies the problem.
We need to LOOK!
WE need to see!
We need to see IT!

~Kathie Adams Brown (April 10, 2015)

NaPoWriMo 2015 / 30  Poems in 30 Days

Friday, April 10, 2015

I Don't Know Whether

I don’t know whether
It’s the weather
That moves me to wrote poetry,
Or moves me to climb a tree!
If I had some feathers
I would not mind the weather.
I could perch outside in a tree,
Or fly above the canopy!
And I would not wonder whether
It would be snow, or rain, or sunny weather,
I’d just take flight with all my feathers
In whatever weather!

~Kathie Adams Brown (April 10, 2015)