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Testimony I was a teenage father then, with little money My wife and I saved our lunch so our son could eat And we went without a meal that day As night approached we had hoped he would sleep until morning And with every twist and turn he made, my anxiety rose and fell But as toddlers do, he rose hungry Rubbing circles on his belly He was trying to be a big boy Trying to control the desperation, I saw in his eyes I nodded to my wife And gathered change from everywhere, anywhere Between cushions and under couches Closets, desk and cabinet drawers And I was off to shop with newly found pocket change Enough for instant noodles, kool aid, bread, and peanut butter Even as I counted out the change, and people in line smirked and commented The cashier and I knew I didn't have enough My eyes swelled, and I Tried to control my desperation She smiled and said, “well that's just enough” Bagged my food And I left Walking back to our little apartment I will never forget that feeling Emotion overcame me Not embarrassment or shame Just thankfulness Just love I’d do anything For my boy  Brian Donnell James is an emerging writer who has been published in Africa, Europe, and throughout the United States. He had recently published work in several poetry anthologies, magazines, and journals. Much of his work centers around racial harmony, love, and taking a stand against discrimination of all forms.
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THE SEED PLANTERS The seed planters rise early to touch the dew kissed earth at first light. Ungloved callused fingers reach out to feel the ground in anticipation. The beauty of fertile soil grows fertile minds to cultivation. For the feeding of all nations and various different populations. Green foot trails travel throughout the regions of the world. America’s golden wheat to Mexico’s amazing maize. China’s rice paddy promises to the green soybean fields of Argentina. The coffee beans in East Africa to the potatoes crops in Russia. There are farmers, fishers, growers, grangers, and sustainers. Many women on small farms plant the fetus life as they carry their fetus to life. The indigenous growers differ from some commercial reapers. Monstrosity colossal like an ugly parasite hooks in way deeper. On the underside of purity too much herbicides, pesticides, and GMO’s. Preservatives that end up in our intestines and arterial walls. Starving and obese children resemble one another from famine to empty calories. Large bloated bellies malnourished or full of soil and seed legalities. Will the crop kidnappers of pestilence and disease leave enough to retrieve? The planting season draws a slow inhale until the exhalation at harvest. We are the problem solvers that battle many common foes. Brothers and sisters of earth wearing humanity colored clothes. The harvest does not worry at the hungry because at equality's table all are fed. The circumstances of feast or famine are often inside calculating heads. A paycheck or regulation away- the focus is on profit not who is starving. But the strength of harvest favors none indiscriminately. While the needy line the streets everywhere for free food handouts waiting. The battle for access and education is what this crisis keeps stating. All life begins with a seed the soil covering cocoon for germination. Tears of god rain from open skies to provide the beginning animation. Brenda Bunting is a poet, educator and facilitator currently residing in PG County, MD. She is a published author, appearing in anthologies and online print publications and performs in the DC, MD and VA area.
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PoemsThese poems were submitted for the 2020 WFD Poetry Competition Archives
December 2020
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