Featured Poet: Chris Dean
Good morning, today’s feature is the always wonderful Chris Dean! I’m always a fan of their poetry, but these three really stood out! Check out three of their poems with accompanying photos, taken by them, below, and while you’re at it, follow the links on where to get a copy of their books. You should also consider following Keeping The Flame Alive, they do some pretty incredible stuff.
when they come
I look at my child,
born one, grown into another,
and wonder…
how long until their neighbors come for them?
I look at my friends,
mouths open, speaking autonomy,
and wonder…
how long until their neighbors come for them?
I look at the artists,
painting peace, writing defiance,
and wonder…
how long until their neighbors come for them?
I look at my community,
not straight, Christian, or compliant,
and wonder…
how long until our neighbors come for us?
I look at myself in the mirror,
eyes filled with worry, refusing to give into fear,
and wonder…
will anyone stand and say, “NO!” when they come?
solstice
The hill yawns with an ancient
snaggle-toothed grin,
the first of Winter
returning its color
to pristine white.
The angle of the Sun tells me
we've crossed into the days
when the Old Year
has gone to its rest
but the New has yet to rise
and the earth belongs
to those that once slept
beneath the rows
of chipped incisors
the hill now bares.
Here, it's quiet enough
to hear the wind
through the gaps,
whistle breathy songs
to call back the light.
Once we reach the city,
the only hymns we'll hear
will be those composed
to the greatness of man,
played on his progress,
the length of our
nights and days,
an organized march
to the cadence of timers
on lamps and alarms.
But staring
at the worn teeth,
opened wide enough
to swallow
black minutes of midnight,
I can forget progress and safety.
I can stand cold with mouth-bones
that speak of forgotten ancestors
and hear them whisper welcome
for another Solstice day.
map of fireflies
Within the dark
there is the light
of a million candles,
my heart a lunar moth
drawn to a map of fireflies
showing my soul
the path to take.
How change
can occur with peace.
How peace
can be found within.
How actions
can inspire action
and action
can inspire change.
Each word
pours the wax,
setting the wick
with intent.
I'm learning at the feet
of the Masters
that I might one day
be a flame.
Chris Dean is a storyteller, spoken word artist and self-proclaimed Magpie Poet who writes from the heart of Indiana where they live with their husband, dog and too many cats to mention.
Along with Wendy Cartwright, Chris is co-founder of Keeping the Flame Alive magazine and the Columbus Acoustic Music & Poetry monthly Open Mic.
Their work has been featured online, in multiple print anthologies and they are the author of two books of poetry, Tales From a Broken Girl and We're All Stories in the End, published by Storeylines Press.
You can find Tales from a Broken Girl here https://a.co/d/8gaXLyN
You can find We’re All Stories in the End here https://a.co/d/gQD8Hd3
