Brenda Finch

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Brenda Finch Poems

Foggy Morning

Surreal morning
wafts of mist
as if
a cloud

The Perfect Crime

They said I was loyal
all those years
that I must’ve shed
a river of tears

Untitled, Again

Fiery murmurings, skulls and bones,
darkly moving shadowy groans
Pits of bondage
Howls of pain

Untitled (Yet One Mo' Time)

Although it seemed that all was well
some po' folks stumbled and fell
it wasn't easy
it wasn't right

Self Talk

I be gettin' tired o' this pit.
Darkness is losin' its 'charm'.
Whispers of despair and hopelessness got some nerve.
Who you think y'all are talkin' to?

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