Sunday, May 10, 2015

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  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.


  1. Difficult to leave a comment without it being an understatement to how well written it is. Well done Markay!

  2. Yes, lovely images here and a poignant tone. "Warmth/that cannot stay." I love that.

  3. Yes, lovely images here and a poignant tone. "Warmth/that cannot stay." I love that.

  4. I may shed a few tears with this.... may heck. I did shed a few tears with this. Yesterday was my mother's birthday and I've been missing her so much. This is poignant indeed.


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