Rhonda Bronte Brown is a National Board-Certified Teacher and retired teacher/counselor whose work has appeared in Better Than Starbucks, The Trouvaille Review, Meat for Tea, The Orchards Poetry Journal and The Best Haiku 2025 international anthology and several online journals. She holds both a BS and a Master’s degree and writes children’s literature and poetry exploring nature, SEL, and STEM.
Hopscotch with seas shells and whirlybirds in the air, singing weeee and swinging high swing high, flying free, landing barfoot in the grass
Cousins taking turns Counting to one hundred hands in sync, switching without missing a beat the ice cream maker's hand-crank keeps churing.
Walking with cousins Playing with friends, hoping summer will never end.
No school, outside and free, it is time just to be me. Gliding on the porch swing, a bowl in my lap shelling peas with purple fingers- I prefer to snap green beans, please.
Straight from the garden, a summer snack. Chores done, potatoes stored in the shack. Childhood summers make me wish for more, tree climbing, river-side camping on a sandy shore and so much more.
The pulse is weak, a vanishing vapor, Thanatos grins when breathing ceased. Death's grim triumph- of the Afghan thirteen, fallen, betrayed, left behind.
A country's demise by the hands of a few won't be forgotten. America's heart bleeds.
Hope hurts and hope heals, shattering the grip of hate- past and present repeat. (1776)
Tears flow deep,
watered by roots of despair.
Let them grow no more.
Breathe the sunlit air.
Uproot weeds watered by tears.
Heart stirs, plant anew.
(Senryu)
We plant roots deep in His Word,
our faith in Jesus, and
hearts atuned to the Holy Spirit
then let God carry our burdens.
Tears flow deep within
nourished by roots of despair.
Breathe the sunlit air
uproots weeds watered by tears
As your soul stirs, plant anew.
(Tanka)
“Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord,
And whose hope is the Lord.
8 For he shall be like a tree planted by the waters,
Which spreads out its roots by the river,
And will not [a]fear when heat comes;
But its leaf will be green,
And will not be anxious in the year of drought,
Nor will cease from yielding fruit.
Jeremiah 17:7-8
*Zephyr* The Best Haiku 2025 international anthology. Zephyr @haikugenius.ai/adbeia8aa
Meat for Tea/ The Valley Review Volume 19 Issue 1 pg. 46
Fairytale Fishin’
No buckets, no boats,
And no carrying large totes,
Just Grandpa and me.
A pole in each hand
Grasshoppers by the pond bank.
Gramps catches our bait.
A nibble, a tug.
Feel the line, ignore the bug-
Wait-then jerk the hook-
A flip-flopping, splash,
reeling in a big fat bass
(Excerpt from a Kid’s Tale
by RL Brown)
Congratulations! Your poem "Fairytale Fishin'"was selected to be a part of the 2022/23 Conway Public Poetry Project installations.
In the coming months, we will be working with the City of Conway to install these poems in various locations around the community.
We are also working on a booklet that will contain the poems, their locations, and information about each poet
Sponsored by Blackbird Art Collective, Conway AR
A Pastoral Cacophony
As morning’s first blush slips through the mizzling mist, dawn’s chorus begins. The woodland world wakes, nestlings fluff their feathers, squish together and listen to their twitter song.
Blackbirds sing a low mellow tone blending choral notes to a day-spring chant. Red-breasted robins' antiphonal tweets twitter back and forth. A cool zephyr breezes through the budding trees, and a hermit thrush adds a rhythmic woodwind harmony.
Chee-pippety-chee-chee, Jenny wren joins in with a light peppy lilt, stepping up the beat. Colorful warblers echo a descant as tiny rainbows shimmer in twilight’s dew. A Capella chorus in one voice sings a spring aria.
A blue jay’s catcall signals a tail twitching taunt, kitty in the weeds.
My inspiration for this poem came one spring morning while listening to bird songs at dawn's light. The slow build of antiphonal tweets and the sudden end, orchestrated by my cat reminded me of Bolero by Ravel.
Better Than Starbucks Poetry and Fiction Journal November 2022 Vol VII No IV
Rhonda Bronte Brown is a retired counselor/teacher who lives in Arkansas. She was published in Better Than Starbucks, the Trouvaille Review, and Haiku Seed Journal in February and March 2022. She also writes children’s books. Find her online at https://brontebrown2.com.
Better Than Starbucks Poetry and Fiction Journal November 2022 Vol VII No IV
Haiku: by R Bronte Brown
Winter folds a tree- into a counterfeit death gray, boney, lifeless.Better than Starbucks, February 2022 Publication p. 41
Editor's comment: Stark, powerful and tied to the four seasons.
Haiku Seed Journal @HaikuSeed_ Featuring these wonderful #haiku for the #HaikuSeed "winter"
spring buds pop their heads, february trickery, winter snaps, not yet!
#HaikuSeed / 24 Feb, 2022 winter
All I can think of is an adult snapping at their children who were sneakily playing video games under their blankets instead of sleeping. Loved the playfulness of the writer and the haiku, there is a wholesome nature to it that brings out a smile.
— Sankara Jayanth
Editor, Haiku Seed Journal
@coffeeandhaiku
Trouvaille Review, February 15, 2022 PublicationThe Dignity of Winter by R Bronte Brown
Wind rustles the leaves.
Trees shimmer yawning deeply,
Anticipation.
Autumn equinox,
the balance of light and dark,
time juncture converts.
Turn your face eastward.
Fall moon on the horizon
blazing golden hues.
Extravagant colors!
A migratory bird's last song.
Light wanes for evening.
Winter grants Fall's wish
for an encore flower dance,
frost procrastinates.
Nature splendor yields
a harvest of abundance,
Thankfulness expressed.
Inner autumn calls,
time to embrace season’s change.
The wind howls for rest.
Winter winds whistling
Indian Summer's last stance
Bowing gracefully
Winter’s dignity
Lifeless trees quiet strength
Autumn seeds nestled deep-
Sheltered.
From Bronte Brown:morning’s blush
slips through
the mizzling mist
The Haiku Pond 🍃
@TheHaikuPond
Aug 13,2022
You can listen on your favorite podcast app or here: http://anthonynanfito.com/2022/08/14/a-waterfalls-purpose/
Trouvaille Review, March 23, 2022 PublicationThe Hummingbird
Swiftest things that run the world,
Hums and beats, their wings unfurled.
Hummingbirds need constant fuel.
Brilliant blooms attract this jewel.
Forward, backward, upside down.
These dashing fliers zip around.
Golden flowers brilliant blooms
Entice birds with shiny plumes.
Blazing Star to Geranium,
Coral Bells to Delphinium.
Flower meadows, patchwork plots,
Scattered seeds in local lots.
Kentucky’s 101st Airborne on their way to Ukraine. Prayers for all We need to wrap them in our prayers! Prayers for all of our men and women going! I didn’t hear this on the news but on Facebook. Update: I heard they were in Poland helping the Ukraine army.
I read a NET in Time post this morning, and she voiced a teenager’s concerns. “What if a mistake happens?”
Whether you believe it or not the 2020 election was stolen by media hook or crooked servers. The western hemisphere is now in a fog of dementia.
Whether biblical timing or a lost populous or the constant bombardment of fake news, the truth is lost in this demented fog. We face so many enemies entrenched in our gov’t and the world in our time. (How can you have a card-carrying communist head of the CIA? Pay for play head of the CDC?)
King Jehoshaphat faced a battle that he could not win. He drew back–to the LORD. His weapon was a heart of praise. When we voice a heart of praise, we are showing God our reliance on HIM. God took care of Jehoshaphat’s battle.
It is time to rely on the most potent weapon of all a heart of praise.
Time for my morning stretch and run, now walk, oh, it’s too cold today.
Time for my morning quiet time, how about some music today, I forgot too…
Time, oh I have lots of time as an empty-nester- time to clean out those closets, the garage, procrastination…
How do I stretch my time, I used to get more done…My heart is just not in it anymore.
Yard work, now my shoulder is hurting again, should’ve kept up those PT exercises.
When we let things go for other things, sometimes we lose our flexibility, our stretchability. It is not lost, just needs our attention. Faith is the song that calms the restlessness inside of me. (From a song but I changed the words a bit.) Sometimes we get restless, the loss of time with our church family, not as much time with friends and family, the constant bombardment of news, both fake and real.
God is there and ready to stretch me (us) in new ways. It is time to stretch and yet, not forget or let go of God’s foundational Truth.
As I work to maintain my strength and daily walk, God continues to stretch me in new ways. I’ve been writing stories and poems, and every day I see His blessing, his walking beside me as I struggle. I am not a natural writer. I have to work at it. I read the word for today, and as usual, start with a blank slate.
There are things God wants to be said through me, so I stretch my reach into the world of words, meditate, contemplate, scratch out, rewrite, double-check for grammar, (always, hate putting a comma before and. It’s like saying and-and). Then I post.
For me, I need to keep my old faith muscles stretched and active. At the same time, stretch new ones.
Commitment comes in all shapes and sizes. Some promises are short-term, some last for a season, and some are life-long. Long before God established the church, He formed the family as the basic unit of society-big or small. Our society grows, values develop, and traditions are passed on from the family.
Author unknown
Commitment does mean everything is perfect. The work to keeping a relationship begins on your wedding day. It is the day you said, I do, to a life-long commitment. Marriage is filled with life and all the happiness and sadness in this world. It is working to keep it alive and going and protect and shield it from the negative impacts of this world.
Setting goals and achieving them definitely build confidence and self-esteem. I have a long list of achievements from learning to ride a back, writing, educational goals to making lifelong friends and instilling a love for God in my family.
But when your heart-felt attempts are rejected and your achievements scorned that’s when you plant your feet on the solid rock of Jesus Christ. The actions I take for the kingdom of God have eternal value, which is a life-long lesson.
I have set my own goals at times above God’s purposes. Of course, I didn’t always see the truth in the moment, just plowed ahead. Yet, God made me the way I am and knew I would need to plow.
God blesses our achievements to show us that we are wonderfully made. Therefore, the glory is His.
I had nothing to write about this morning, feeling down–amazing how God can comfort your heart with a simple thought once you meditate on it.
Entry for 1st Annual Kids Choice Kidlit Writing Contest 2022/ (Max -WC 200) Revised to full story.
All the Henderson children love to read except Rex.
Why Do Letters Move? Read ALoud-Never! by R Bronte Brown
The Eyes of a Dyslexic Child
Why Do Letters Move?
All the Henderson children loved to read except for one.
Rex Henderson hated to read aloud. Unlike his sister, his words slipped, tripped, and skipped over his tongue like jabbering gibberish. Susie loved to read aloud. Her words flowed in seamless syllables of streaming sounds.
Each time he compared himself to her, his heart sank deeper into despair. His sister could read, but he could not.
Rex wished he could slash words off all the pages. Then, there would be no more letters picking at his brain, and the pages would be as silent as a gentle rain.
Flustered, Rex snapped the book shut. “My brain hurts. My eyes won’t work. Why do letters move?” he sputtered. The letters giggle.
”Who’s that?” Rex demanded.
At that moment, a quirky character named Memes emerged from the pages, crawling out with an air of mischief. Memes stood atop the book, dressed like a sailor with a floppy bandanna tied around his head, baggy striped pants, and a cheerful checked shirt that seemed to dance as he moved.
“I’m here to be your first mate,” said Memes. “We letters can be a rowdy bunch, but we need a captain like you to guide us through this story.”
“Me, be captain of these letters? They're never still; they are always hopping about. They are a flip--flopping mess.”
“If you sound out their names, they’ll snap into place,” said Memes as he encouraged Rex to join in.
Together they continued, “… b, d, c, f, g—come on,” Memes cheered. “Speak up, h, i, j—.”
Rex called each consonant by name.
“These vowels are a troublesome bunch, never sounding the same,” Rex complained.
“Yes, they do flow here and there. But consonants like the bossy --r tell vowels how to behave like 'er' in ferret, 'or' in fork, ‘ir' in bird, 'ur' in turn or 'ar' in a pirate’s ‘Aargh.’ With practice, you’ll learn their names,” Memes smiled.
Memes handed Rex a script. “Read it aloud,” said Memes.
“Me!”
“You’re their captain,” Memes reminded Rex
“Laugh, and I’ll toss you off this page,” Rex warned with a half-hearted attempt to muster some bravery.
As Captain Rex began to read aloud, something remarkable happened—the letters snapped into their rightful places on the page. With each sound, they formed a steady rhythm, building a bridge from confusion to clarity.
“Why did the letters move?” he wondered aloud.
Not today, he thought..
Why Do Letters Move? The Eyes of a Dyslexic Child
All the Henderson children loved to read except for one.
Rex Henderson hated to read aloud. Unlike his sister, his words slipped and tripped over his tongue. They sounded like jabbering gibberish. Susie loved to read aloud. Her words flowed in seamless syllables of streaming sounds.
Each time he compared himself to her, his heart sank deeper into despair. His sister could read, but he could not.
Rex wished he could slash words off all the pages. Then, there would be no more letters picking at his brain, and the pages would be as silent as a gentle rain.
Flustered, Rex snapped the book shut. “My brain hurts. My eyes won’t work. Why do letters move?” he sputtered. The letters giggled. Before Rex could slam the book shut, a flicker of movement caught his eye. Out popped a tiny figure.
”Who’s that?” Rex demanded.
At that moment, a quirky character named Memes emerged from the pages, crawling out with an air of mischief. Memes stood atop the book, dressed like a sailor with a floppy bandanna tied around his head, baggy striped pants, and a cheerful checked shirt that seemed to dance as he moved.
“I’m here to be your first mate,” said Memes. “We letters can be a rowdy bunch, but we need a captain like you to guide us through this story.”
“Me, be captain of these letters? They're never still; they are always hopping about. They are a flip--flopping mess.”
“If you sound out their names, they’ll snap into place,” said Memes as he encouraged Rex to join in.
Together they continued, “… b, d, c, f, g—come on,” Memes cheered. “Speak up, h, i, j—.”
Rex called each consonant by name.
“These vowels are a troublesome bunch, never sounding the same,” Rex complained.
“Yes, they do flow here and there. But consonants like the bossy --r tell vowels how to behave like 'er' in ferret, 'or' in fork, ‘ir' in bird, 'ur' in turn or 'ar' in a pirate’s ‘Aargh.’ With practice, you’ll learn their names,” Memes smiled.
Memes handed Rex a script. “Read it aloud,” said Memes.
“Me!”
“You’re their captain,” Memes reminded, tipping his floppy hat.
“Laugh, and I’ll toss you off this page,” Rex warned with a half-hearted attempt to muster some bravery.
As Captain Rex began to read aloud, something remarkable happened—the letters snapped into their rightful places on the page. With each sound, they formed a steady rhythm, building a bridge from confusion to clarity.
“Why did the letters move?” he wondered aloud.
Not today, he thought WC 408
His words slipped – tripped – skipped- over his tongue like jabbering gibberish.
Her words slid in seamless syllables of streaming sounds. #HaikuSaturday, #haiku (excerpt from 'Eyes of a Dyslexic' short story submission by RLBrown
The Eyes of a Dyslexic Child
My brain hurts. My eyes won’t work. I can’t read anymore. Why do letters move? Be still, so I can read you. The letters whisper, don’t give up.
Jumbled Words. Letters flip and flop. Then they jump and hop. Why do letters move? Be still, so I can see you. The letters whisper, say my name.
Grumbled Sounds, And mumbled tones, Never sound the same. WHY do letters move? Be still, so I can hear you. The letters whisper, blend the sounds.
Teacher, Teacher! The letters are moving! Oh, no, that’s in your head. Why do letters move? Be still, YOU! The letters whisper, concentrate.
Taking Test Orally, I’m best. Squiggly scribbly letters Why do letters move? Be still, so I can write you. The letters whisper, yes, you can.
Read aloud! Nervous mistakes, Makes my insides quake. Why do letters move? Be still, don't laugh. The letters shout, keep going.
Every day, my teacher says, “You’re reading better today!” “Why did letters move?” Not anymore!
I can remember switching letters and numbers all my life. I even wrote a poem, Why do Letters Move? I am working on a short story about a child, Rex, who hates to read out loud.
Trials come, no matter what trail you take. Each road has its own set of troubles. Some trials pierce the heart, leaving you desolate and some trials are faced with the determination of the fiercest warrior.
Hiking in AR
Trials produce endurance which brings about the perfection of your faith. James 1:2-3 and Romans 5: 1-11. Romans 5 is the full progress of being justified by faith-peace with God-our introduction-hope-perseverance-reliance on God through the Holy Spirit-saved from wrath- we are reconciled.
[Excerpt: In today’s world one’s voice can get caught up in many types of whirlwinds, instead of the stillness of God’s spirit. I am guilty of being politically stirred, seething over general and personal attacks over my Christian beliefs, and taking offense at the vitriol of people who have a great disdain for the gospel. Jesus did say they hated him first. ] This type of trial is of my own making.
But some trials I face along my path are not of my own making and are beyond me. Facing trials is not the same as temptation, and do we do face consequences because of our choices. Some hurts go deep and your faith is greatly shaken. Faith hope and love work together to heal the heart. I don’t have answers just a bit of hope.
brontebrown2 