THE POETRY OF MAGGIE G. BROWN

Maggie is like a spunky dream that you never want to leave.  She is 12 and has been homeschooled her whole life.   She loves soccer, basketball, horseback riding, singing, and of course, writing.  As the lead singer of Maggie and the Maggots, she sings her heart out.  She never gives up on what she believes in and always follows her gut.

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Soap and Water 

The warming cold foam
of bubbles,
Refreshing the air with beauty 
Smelling as a threat of hand soap 
Tasting bitter of sorrow 
Feeling soft of cold sheets,
With that delicate touch of a 
feather.

Crystallizing the sky like a mirror would 
on you.


Big and small, doubled, singular and
Ambidextrous, seeing from both sides of
gold.

Hues in pinks, blues, greens, and bronze
All showering over and under you, like
having a diamond rain pour.


Sticking to time, till pop!
Favoring your skin with every last drop.


New or old, youth and wise, never
seem to catch the fact of their lives.






Song

I feel the vibrations 
Tingle my fingers
And the constant rhythms 
Follow my rhyme


The instant flow
Of do, do, do
And the taste of
Heat in cold Weatherly 
Pines

The endless pound,
Through out my
Chimes 
And the danger,
Oh danger,
Curling up my spine

Enclosed in a chamber,
Of my own phylum,
A cocoon type blind
That enhances time


The tap of my feet,
To the bob of my head,
To the movement of shoulders
Increase my mind


The last song to play
To soon rise over heels
High,

To nothing, 
But silence,
Traps my line










A Body Outdoors

The cold water splash,
Melting away every last emotion


Containing a bitter happiness 
Inside


Webs carved in and out of the trees,
And laced to them like skin does to you
Adjusting to any faint shiver or rain
Drop


Artificial hand-me-downs from the 
Scenery of rocks to stone
Blind eyes can only feel the difference 



Colors of dragons under the cold pressed 
Water, turned to be koi
Lifted than secured,
Than fell
One less bug to be worried about


Green leaves tangled like vines,
Sun drip on the highest to lowest
Ones 
Creating a warm blanket of
Yellow


Twigs and spit twisted together
Making a short stubbed nest,
Cold in the sense of heat


Now when dark days fall to 
Lease the sky
The sun rests and so will
I