Poetry of Love, Resistance, & Solidarity

Posts tagged ‘Ronda Miller’

Eliminate — By Ronda Miller

Use it to describe refined sugar, coffee,

or animal protein I removed from my diet.

It works for exercise, although I didn’t

have it to eliminate anyway.

Use it to discuss a policy that won’t work,

a police suspect who’s been ruled out,

or a boyfriend you no longer wish to date.

 

It works for the red dress left

at the store because it doesn’t fit right.

But let’s not use it to describe

the person dying in the street,

the one a government or police

state threw a weapon in front

of as an excuse to watch them bleed out.

 

People aren’t eliminated,

human life is too precious

to equate it to taking out the trash.

~ Ronda Miller

Ronda Miller enjoys wandering the high plateau of NW Kansas where the Arikaree Breaks whisper late into the sunset and scream into blizzards and thunderstorms. She lives in Lawrence close to her son and daughter. She is a district president and state vice president for Kansas Authors Club. She is a life coach specializing in working with those who have lost someone to homicide. She dances every chance she gets. She has poetry in numerous online and hard copy publications that include the Smithsonian Institute. Her books include Water Signs, Going Home: Poems from My Life and MoonStain.

Guest Editor Denise Low, second Kansas Poet Laureate, has published over 20 books of award-winning poetry and essays, including Ghost Stories (Woodley) and Natural Theologies, essays about Mid-Plains literature (Backwater Press). Low was visiting professor at the University of Richmond and Kansas University. She taught at Haskell Indian Nation University, where she founded the creative writing program. She served Associated Writing Programs as board president. She and her husband Thomas Pecore Weso publish Mammoth Publications.

 

Advertisements

Geese — by Ronda Miller

circle around,

fly backwards,

fail to synchronize,

flail and squawk,

eventually fall

away into space,

their instincts

as confused as my own.

 

This year an antichrist

strides, legs long enough

to reach Kansas from D.C.,

or is that New York?

 

Native Americans fight

for clean water rights

the world over, stand

their ground as others

around me shrink and smirk,

shirk family duties.

How do we triage

those we love?

Why can’t we inconvenience

ourselves, downsize our homes,

or simply ask that aged

parent for a loan,

live together as one?

 

I keep faith/presence

with like minded people,

promise myself

to continue the fight,

search the sky for geese,

who by instinct,

know where they’re going,

take flight,

and so do I.

~ Ronda Miller

Ronda Miller enjoys wandering the high plateau of NW Kansas where the Arikaree Breaks whisper late into the sunset and scream into blizzards and thunderstorms. She lives in Lawrence close to her son and daughter. She is a district president and state vice president for Kansas Authors Club. She is a life coach specializing in working with those who have lost someone to homicide. She dances every chance she gets. She has poetry in numerous online and hard copy publications that include the Smithsonian Institute. Two books of poetry include Going Home: Poems from My Life and MoonStain (Meadowlark Books, May 2015).

Guest editor Dennis Etzel Jr. lives with Carrie and the boys in Topeka, Kansas where he teaches English at Washburn University. He has two chapbooks, The Sum of Two Mothers (ELJ Publications 2013) and My Graphic Novel (Kattywompus Press 2015), a poetic memoir My Secret Wars of 1984 (BlazeVOX 2015), and Fast-Food Sonnets (Coal City Review Press 2016).

She Says – by Ronda Miller

rondashe doesn’t dream.
Each afternoon I ask, hopeful,
she as despondent as I by her response.
“Not of ponies, a unicorn, white kittens?” I ply.
She shakes her head side to side.
Full lips whisper, “No,” so quietly that I’m lip reading.

During the day, she shares her tears,
tells me how badly she misses her mom
who lives behind bars.
Her older brother, who has
somehow transformed into her
baby brother, she cries for him too.
They have different fathers.
His came for him, hers has not.

Today I decide to change things.
I don’t ask her if she had a dream, I know she did.
I know she does every afternoon and night.
They are nightmares, filled with a loss so dark
they can’t be shared in light of day,
can’t be spoken, can not be remembered.
They are felt so far inside there are no words to share.

I sit beside her, rub her back.
her dark eyes open, flutter shut, reopen.
“Let me tell you about your dream,” I say.
“You were riding a rainbow unicorn
with a fuzzy white kitten in your pocket.
She kept peeking her big bright blue eyes
out to tell you where to go.
You went all the way to the moon and back.
I saw you there myself.”
Her face relaxes, and she smiles.

~ Ronda Miller

Poet Ronda Miller enjoys wandering the high plateau of NW Kansas where the Arikaree Breaks whisper late into the sunset and scream into blizzards and thunderstorms. She lives in Lawrence close to her son and daughter. She is a district president and state vice president for Kansas Authors Club. She is a life coach specializing in working with those who have lost someone to homicide. She dances every chance she gets. She has poetry in numerous online and hard copy publications that include the Smithsonian Institute. Two books of poetry include Going Home: Poems from My Life and MoonStain (Meadowlark Books, May 2015).

Guest Editor Z. Hall is a poet whose work features ekphrasis, and explores race, gender, and culture. She is an essayist and has served as a PEN Prison Writing Mentor. She is currently a writer-in-residence at the Charlotte Street Foundation. As an art writer and scholar, her peer-reviewed publications include works on Beyoncé and Jay Z’s ‘Drunk in Love,’ the field recordings of Stephen Wade’s “The Beautiful Music All Around Us,” emergence of the Christian film industry in Lindvall and Quicke’s “Celluloid Sermons,” and the political cartoons of the 2005 Muhammad Cartoon Controversy as rhetorical art, among other works. Hall is the Executive Director and Producer of Salon~360, a monthly, Kansas City regional event that brings together artists whose work focuses on challenging societal issues, for which she was awarded an ArtsKC Inspiration Grant.

I Stand – by Ronda Miller

fullsizerxenderI turn on the water faucet.

Not a day goes by that I don’t

think about how blessed

I am to have running water,

clean water, water to drink,

to cook with, to wash myself

and my clothing, to flush

what my body can’t use

away from me.
we refused them

the last few drops

of water knowing

it was all that was

keeping them alive.
I think about how much water

it takes to fill your body and mine,

and how it flows through us without

our thinking about it.
how much longer

it would have added

to their hearts beating

we had no way of knowing
My dreams are of Water Protectors.

I think how sacred they

are to our way of life,

to staying alive. I feel

the burden, the duty,

the heaviness of carrying water

to crops, to livestock,

to the garden patch.
it was the knowledge

that it added time + agony

to our own days and nights,

not theirs, that we feared.
Sometimes the weight of my own

water is too heavy to carry alone.

Emotions flow through us,

fill our vessels, escape

our eyes as water droplets,

lift as rainbow against autumn sky.
one asked for milk;

how he longed for the sweetness

of the taste.

the connection

of being joined

to his mother

didn’t cross our minds

until he was gone.
I remember the joy of carrying

my children, filled with their own water,

inside of me. And then my water

broke and they carried their water

forward, away from me.

they were able to live because

of breast milk I made from my water.
it was then

we realized

it would not have

made a difference

in his pneumonia;

in anything except

a small pleasure

we had no right to deny.
I watch as the Water Protectors

are hurt by their water,

our water,

as it is used

as weapon

against them.

~ Ronda Miller

Ronda Miller is district president of Kansas Authors Club, as well as state VP of the club. She is a Life Coach who works with clients who have lost someone to homicide. Miller enjoys wandering the high plateau region of NW Kansas where the Arikaree Breaks whisper into the sunset and scream into blizzards and t-storms. Her quote, “Poetry is our most natural connection among one another” best exemplifies her belief in poetry. She created poetic forms Loku and Ukol and co authored the documentary The 150 Reride of The Pony Express. Her books of poetry include Going Home: Poems from My Life and MoonStain (Meadowlark Books, May of 2015).

Birthday Butter – by Will Hagman

fullsizerenderart was disgusting to her

when it wasted materials

that could be used elsewhere

to help the poor or

feed the hungry

or when it lost all

practicality and only

took up space needed

for something more
 

she realized this while

cutting a stick of butter

and reflected on a film

she saw of Tibetan monks

sculpting butter into

elaborate figures and

designs to celebrate the

birth of Lord Buddha

which made her think

of all the energy spent in

creating the same beauty

to celebrate the birth of

her Lord Jesus Christ
 

supposedly saviors she

whispered to herself while

cutting the butter into

the flour for a pie crust

putting aside her project

she spied her pill box

she remembered she forgot

and popped open the cell

for the day, spilling the pills

into her cupped palm

the tiniest pill contained

both heaven and hell in

its minute chemical cosmos

but no nirvana was found there

~ Will Hagman

Poet Will Hagman works as a customer service representative in Sioux Falls, SD where he lives with his husband Bob. He has found writing to be therapeutic throughout his life and continues to write poetry as a venue to connect with others and himself. Additionally, Will enjoys gardening and dabbling in various mediums of art.

Guest Editor Ronda Miller is district president of Kansas Authors Club, as well as state VP of the club. She is a Life Coach who works with clients who have lost someone to homicide. Miller enjoys wandering the high plateau region of NW Kansas where the Arikaree Breaks whisper into the sunset and scream into blizzards and t-storms. Her quote, “Poetry is our most natural connection among one another” best exemplifies her belief in poetry. She created poetic forms Loku and Ukol and co authored the documentary The 150 Reride of The Pony Express. Her books of poetry include Going Home: Poems from My Life and MoonStain (Meadowlark Books, May of 2015).

But Not Guns – by Kevin Rabas

When it getsimg_5328

real cold,

Asad from Azerbaijan

comes to school

in a new

green and black camo

ski mask,

and secretary Kay tells him:

not a good idea,

wearing that the day after

the shooting, clips

emptied into the dance club,

but Asad doesn’t get it, doesn’t

follow the connection between

that man and him, when men

look like him, but have lost

all heart, face.

Asad lugs his books

up steps, leaves

12 copies of his poem

on my desk, lines of lust

for pomegranates and blondes,

not guns.

~ Kevin Rabas

Poet Kevin Rabas teaches at Emporia State University, where he leads the poetry and playwriting tracks. He has seven books, including Lisa’s Flying Electric Piano – a Kansas Notable Book and Nelson Poetry Book Award winner.

Guest Editor Ronda Miller is district president of Kansas Authors Club, as well as state VP of the club. She is a Life Coach who works with clients who have lost someone to homicide. Miller enjoys wandering the high plateau region of NW Kansas where the Arikaree Breaks whisper into the sunset and scream into blizzards and t-storms. Her quote, “Poetry is our most natural connection among one another” best exemplifies her belief in poetry. She created poetic forms Loku and Ukol and co authored the documentary The 150 Reride of The Pony Express. Her books of poetry include Going Home: Poems from My Life and MoonStain (Meadowlark Books, May of 2015).

Contrition – by Amy Nixon

fullsizerender-1I wake up every day in my skin

it is white

and thin

The hot spray in my white

tile shower keeps me

clean

I smell like cinnamon

soap and baby powder

I am pure vanilla

in a sturdy white bra

soft soft bamboo tiedyed socks

a safety pin

combat boots too light

to fight in

utility pants with no tools nothing

in all those pockets

but a badge

to pass security at my white

collar job That badge says

my time is worth

more than $7.25 it says

my middle class white ass can

drive my SUV a block to

get sushi get my

teeth polished white

White ladies are raised to smile

and not ball up

our fists taught

to float like cotton candy

But me with my thin skin flimsy

boots cinnamon

scent I fight in my sleep wake up

to light stabbing

my skull my heartcage My

pale eyes they smile while

inside I shout Put down

that cross

and pick up a scale

You haven’t met

your Jesus yet and he

wouldn’t know you

from your white neighbor

or a moneychanger or

be impressed

that you footsoldier in a

white righteous war on

Starbucks cups Tell

Jesus who washed feet

do you love the

brown neighbor the gay

neighbor the headcovered

neighbor the struggling neighbor

love

thy neighbor who can’t

be a mother right now

Don’t we all breathe

air eat rice

What are your hands

busy serving up

today Why does your sign

say judgment

What of this world

needs you to hold it so tight

What gives you the right

to make the rules

for fights you cannot conceive of

when waking up in white

sheets on a nice clean street

How do you say I’m

sorry in English

Where is your shame

I wake in shame

I wake silent and afraid

I wake enraged every

single day

Every day I wake up tired

unmolted white wishing

the absence of color

didn’t make

such

a difference

~ Amy Nixon

Poet Amy Nixon is an award-winning poet and songwriter who has recently kicked a 40-year coffee habit and is still standing (most days). Her likes are birdsong, the color turquoise, and National Geographic photographs. Her dislikes are injustice and cancer.

Guest Editor Ronda Miller is district president of Kansas Authors Club, as well as state VP of the club. She is a Life Coach who works with clients who have lost someone to homicide. Miller enjoys wandering the high plateau region of NW Kansas where the Arikaree Breaks whisper into the sunset and scream into blizzards and t-storms. Her quote, “Poetry is our most natural connection among one another” best exemplifies her belief in poetry. She created poetic forms Loku and Ukol and co authored the documentary The 150 Reride of The Pony Express. Her books of poetry include Going Home: Poems from My Life and MoonStain (Meadowlark Books, May of 2015).

Tag Cloud