RSS Feed

Daily Archives: March 6, 2015

View of Camden, New Jersey, 2015 -Promote yourself


View of Camden, New Jersey, 2015


From an aerial view,

the city appears blighted,

gray smoke from the Ben Franklin Bridge south.

Even Philly, north, fares better…

those sharp-witted lights of brilliant history.


Boarded row home. Poppy packs powder in zip-locs,

loads them into his son’s backpack, sends him off

to middle school. Says don’t come home without the money.

Daughter struggles with homework. Poppy says

don’t bother. In a few years she’ll be in middle school.

Red brick school building. Demolition red.

Teacher rings a bell in a classroom.

Time for silent independent reading

She gestures students back to their desks.


Teacher as example, pulls out her Sue Grafton

mystery. Yolanda swears in Spanish. Home language,

so teacher lets it go. And reads on….


Kinsey Milhone, lady detective, draws her gun

and foils the robber’s break-in…


Quason grunts, pulls out his high interest low level

book. Snorts from the rest, but they follow.


…Kinsey drives her Volkswagon in California

Wind sprays the ocean. Colors are warm golden-hues…


Someone passes gas. Laughter shatters. Fingers

pinch noses.Teacher rolls her eyes, keeps reading.

Hasan points out the flies over Joey’s ripe book bag.

Teacher wishes to be Kinsey.


For twenty minutes, sixteen troubled students

pretend to read, sleep, swat flies. One teacher gets lost

in a world where a lady detective solves all the problems.


In a dream I saw a city invincible.”

                                                                                    -Walt Whitman

                                                                          inscribed on the walls                                                      ofCamden  City Hall where

                                                                            the great poet spent his last                                                          years

in this city)

Leigh Mackelvey

Wisdom – Promote Yourself

Who Who
Says the owl deep
Wide, through the bends
In the trees shadows
The darkening sky, her
Voice carries smoothly, reaching
Beyond her perch reminding
All the little wandering animals
In the forest, their home
She is listening, waiting
You You
Says the voice inside
Your heart only as loud
As the volume is
Turned up, mute
You easily understand what
Feeling alone
Having no voice
No true words, spark
No particular plan, dream
Oh sweet girl you are not
Alone in this world, your voice
Echoes into your wildest
Dreams, no need to whisper
Wonder if you are, everything
As you were, are
It doesn’t matter where
You have been, now
Said what might have been, okay
Me Me
Says the wounded parts
Doing their best to protect
From everything they don’t ask, first
A voice full of fists, soften
No rest, love
Tries it’s call, only
Mouthing the words
At first, then finally sound
Starts to bubble up and you
Can’t keep it in, more
You speak louder, louder
Your color vibrant, brilliant
Wonder returns with a plan
You can stand, you are on your toes
Smiling, there are goosebumps
Floating down
Your arms, you are alive
You are well, you will

Fresh and charming, that wise owl
Swoops down from her perch
With a wondrous flutter of wings
And feathers, she nods
To the girl, you nod
Back, knowing
Your hand pressed, softly
To your beating heart
The owl is leaving
And won’t be
By: Carrie Browne
I am new to this beautiful outlet of poetry. I stay home with my two wild boys and enjoy spending time in the outdoors when ever I get the chance. You can view more of my writing and photographs at The Shady Tree The Shady Tree



%d bloggers like this: