April 5, 2016 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION


Renee Drummond-Brown



Still I Write

(The Answer to: Dr. Maya Angelou’s “Still I Rise”)



Maya, of course they wrote you down in history,

You proved them wrong in truth,

But you planted for me calligraphy,

So I’m heard on paper all the way to God’s celestial roof!


My passion for writing does upset them,

But I can’t be concerned,

Cause you left for me a gift from God,

And it’ll be forever writing that I yearn.


Just like God’s Raven leaving the Ark,

‘She’ flew to and fro,

Until the waters were dried up from off the earth,

Because of you, I’ll forever write in the skies, seas and dirt; for certain this I do know.


I was that broken soul,

And bowed so low to Satan’s pit,

With nowhere to get; but up,

I allowed my pen to place me within God’s Script (ure).


I know my writings excite you,

And with God for you, who can be against us, in giving me that nod,

I finally hear your words loud and clear,

The poems you left behind are messages of truths, minus the facades.


Some have shot my writings to pieces,

While others have damaged me over time,

But God; sends a ram in a bush, ink, a quill, and wrote for me Ecclesiastes 3

He Author’s the time and place with limited ‘seasons’ for their hurtful rhymes.


From the shame you told me to write,

I write,

From the pain you told me to write,

I write,

I am that Raven Blackbird with a large wingspan,

“Renee’s Poems With Wings Are Words In Flight”; flying all over God’s land,

I too want to leave behind my unhealthy fears,

So in the dark, I write,

But in the light, I see the imagery our ancestors gave to you; which you passed onto me,

Maya you are the dream, Barack Obama was the hope, and I am the slave set free (to write).

Still I write,

I write,

I’ll write.










Lines in your face

Grey in your hair

One green dress; No, maybe the color was teal

Brownish colored nails

Carrying everybody’s blues for real

Naps on your neck

Toes that curl

Two sets of shoes

1 white and 1 black pair

Cleaning chitterlings and cooking collard greens

These were a few of her favorite things




Potato salad and ham

Well… You know the drill

Her menu’s definitely well planned

Sunday stew

Worship too

But her God is first

She eats last

Once everybody’s served

Slow to speak

Shy as can be

Manners are required

While scratching her head

And rubbing those feet

Humility is her signature trait

Having an ear to hear

Deciding everybody’s fate before she speaks

All the while

Hurting inside

Syndrome lives

Wearing her pride

Still yet

Both hiding and fronting that artificial smile

While dropping her big brown eyes

Never once complaining

Nor bitter on the inside

Burying children alone

Both dead and alive

Standing strong

The Father’s on her side

Even if

No man’s home

Taking something from nothing

And making it her own

Giving away her last

With open hands

Never calling it a loan

Worshiping EVERY Sunday

Bible in head, heart and hand

Giving her last 10%

Plus what she didn’t have

To her “I AM THAT I AM”

All the while praying inside

Taking in those neighborhood kids

When their mother’s weren’t around

Her scales tipped over

With problems to loan

No lights

No gas

But the strays still call it their home

You precious Momma

Are second to none

You may not have nothing

Without a nickel to loan

Besides the Father who art in heaven

MOMMA your still number one

But I wish……………….

I would have told you before you went home…








Renee Drummond Brown

I was born in North Carolina, at Camp Lejeune US Naval Hospital and am a graduate of Geneva College of Pennsylvania. My love for creative writing is undoubtedly displayed through my very unique style of poetry. My poetry is inspired by God and Dr. Maya Angelou. Because of them I pledge this: “Still I write, I write, and I’ll write!” “Renee’s Poems with Wings are Words in Flight” is flown across the seas by God’s raven. There are several Scriptures that I love; however, this one speaks volumes during this ‘season’: “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).


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