Meet MARKAY BROWN-Redrock Writers President

Markay Brown, St George, Utah, was born an addict to the written word. A BYU graduate, she began writing poetry at an age well beyond precociousness. How about 60?  She won first place for her manuscript, Eve’s Child, in the 2014 Utah Original Writing Competition, Book-length Collection of Poetry, judged by Richard Howard of Columbia University. She recently received the 2015 Segullah award for poetry. Markay and her poet husband collaborated on a book of poems titled, Blended.  Family, friends, reading, writing, music, and long walks in the red rocks make her happy.

REDROCK WRITERS is the newest Chapter of UTSPS, located in St. George, Utah. Markay says..."Our Redrock Writers are a super group of poets that I would like you to know. We meet monthly (3rd Thursdays) at 7:00 pm in my home. Each poet brings two poems to read with copies for the others.  We are as varied in voice and style as possible, from inventive free verse to rhyme and humor.  We, eight to ten regulars, have become good friends, feel safe sharing our latest efforts with each other, knowing there is mutual respect and desire to assist as we all improve our writing together.   Our projects include our annual Chaparral Poetry Forum which includes student and adult poetry contests, as well as Redrock Creative Writing Seminar each spring.  We also support Dixie Poets projects such as judging for Poetry Out Loud, English Quest and Poetry in the Park. See more redrockwriters.org  I’m honored to be part of this delightful association of poets."

HEARTLAND by Markay Brown      

A bride stitches curtains 

and the farmhouse kitchen smiles 

in yellow daisies. 

Cornflower cotton flutters 

at the bedroom sill.

Years yield a crop--seven children

who fashion forts in haystacks,

scatter corn for chickens,

run in, then out of the house warmed

by crusty loaves, bottled peaches,

her aproned lap.

Sixty-eight years—not enough

lullabies for grandchildren, not enough

husband, distant at the plough.

The farmer wakes to a 4 a.m. draft,

pulls the patchwork close.

The eldest son tucks comfort

around his father, whispers          

        Mother is gone. 

Daisies droop in the kitchen.

The furnace clicks on its mechanical heart,

lights a fire, blows and blows a warmth

that cannot stay.

The windows stand wide open.

Her curtains billow out.