s
She felt no quakes,
no bumble bees,
no panic sharks reeling
in the pint of her belly.
Not once did her shoelace hair
curl like ringlets
not once did she hear bells.

Uncommon pairings, curious verbs, and a splash of liberating spirit develop as the poetry travels through time. As Ms. Brown works through emotions of despair, a stronger woman evolves. The work sings of survival while painting distinctive images of th

Title: Unscrambled Eggs
Author: Nadia Brown
Publisher: Publish America LLP
Publisher's Address: P.O. Box 151 Frederick, MD 21705 (301) 695-1707
ISBN number: 1413781691
Price: $14.95
Publisher phone number and/or website address (if any):
http://www.publishamerica.com

Unscrambled Eggs
By Nadia Brown
Review by Aaron Paul Lazar
Author of the LeGarde Mystery Series

Unscrambled Eggs is a lyrical album of profound poetry. It glistens with quiet reflection entangled with sentiments of abandonment. Forlorn, lost, adrift on a sea of real emotions – Nadia Brown speaks with words not often combined. Take, for example, the following stanza from “Deprived.”

My Crayola lips
plum of eyes, cello of body
are sick with need.

Crayola lips. Cello body. Sick with need. In thirteen short words we sense the image of a woman painfully alone and uncomfortable in her body. In the last stanza, we are assured of this stinging vision.

A rousing verse,
a mangled rose, a sigh of jazz
all sings your absence

Nadia Brown’s imagery is strong and unexpected. The combinations of words are surprising, refreshing. These are not common poems. The tang of gritty despondency permeates the pages, in spite of the artistic composition. There is no pretense here. No false polish, cute rhyming schemes, nor purposeful cadence. In such an environment, only the imagery stands alone, spilling honest visions on the page.

Among the sixty verses lies another favorite, “There Were No Bells.”

She said there were no bells,
only her clam hands
and fretful feet rattled in the eve.
The sirens would not go off
nor did her knees faint
from the tie-dye of bliss
She felt no quakes,
no bumble bees,
no panic sharks reeling
in the pint of her belly.
Not once did her shoelace hair
curl like ringlets
not once did she hear bells.

Uncommon pairings, curious verbs, and a splash of liberating spirit develop as the poetry travels through time. As Ms. Brown works through emotions of despair, a stronger woman evolves. The work sings of survival while painting distinctive images of the

hor of the LeGarde Mystery Series

Unscrambled Eggs is a lyrical album of profound poetry. It glistens with quiet reflection entangled with sentiments of abandonment. Forlorn, lost, adrift on a sea of real emotions – Nadia Brown speaks with words not often combined. Take, for example, the following stanza from “Deprived.”

My Crayola lips
plum of eyes, cello of body
are sick with need.

Crayola lips. Cello body. Sick with need. In thirteen short words we sense the image of a woman painfully alone and uncomfortable in her body. In the last stanza, we are assured of this stinging vision.

A rousing verse,
a mangled rose, a sigh of jazz
all sings your absence

Nadia Brown’s imagery is strong and unexpected. The combinations of words are surprising, refreshing. These are not common poems. The tang of gritty despondency permeates the pages, in spite of the artistic composition. There is no pretense here. No false polish, cute rhyming schemes, nor purposeful cadence. In such an environment, only the imagery stands alone, spilling honest visions on the page.

Among the sixty verses lies another favorite, “There Were No Bells.”

She said there were no bells,
only her clam hands
and fretful feet rattled in the eve.
The sirens would not go off
nor did her knees faint
from the tie-dye of bliss
She felt no quakes,
no bumble bees,
no panic sharks reeling
in the pint of her belly.
Not once did her shoelace hair
curl like ringlets
not once did she hear bells.

Uncommon pairings, curious verbs, and a splash of liberating spirit develop as the poetry travels through time. As Ms. Brown works through emotions of despair, a stronger woman evolves. The work sings of survival while painting distinctive images of th

hirteen short words we sense the image of a woman painfully alone and uncomfortable in her body. In the last stanza, we are assured of this stinging vision.

A rousing verse,
a mangled rose, a sigh of jazz
all sings your absence

Nadia Brown’s imagery is strong and unexpected. The combinations of words are surprising, refreshing. These are not common poems. The tang of gritty despondency permeates the pages, in spite of the artistic composition. There is no pretense here. No false polish, cute rhyming schemes, nor purposeful cadence. In such an environment, only the imagery stands alone, spilling honest visions on the page.

Among the sixty verses lies another favorite, “There Were No Bells.”

She said there were no bells,
only her clam hands
and fretful feet rattled in the eve.
The sirens would not go off
nor did her knees faint
from the tie-dye of bliss
She felt no quakes,
no bumble bees,
no panic sharks reeling
in the pint of her belly.
Not once did her shoelace hair
curl like ringlets
not once did she hear bells.

Uncommon pairings, curious verbs, and a splash of liberating spirit develop as the poetry travels through time. As Ms. Brown works through emotions of despair, a stronger woman evolves. The work sings of survival while painting distinctive images of th

position. There is no pretense here. No false polish, cute rhyming schemes, nor purposeful cadence. In such an environment, only the imagery stands alone, spilling honest visions on the page.

Among the sixty verses lies another favorite, “There Were No Bells.”

She said there were no bells,
only her clam hands
and fretful feet rattled in the eve.
The sirens would not go off
nor did her knees faint
from the tie-dye of bliss
She felt no quakes,
no bumble bees,
no panic sharks reeling
in the pint of her belly.
Not once did her shoelace hair
curl like ringlets
not once did she hear bells.

Uncommon pairings, curious verbs, and a splash of liberating spirit develop as the poetry travels through time. As Ms. Brown works through emotions of despair, a stronger woman evolves. The work sings of survival while painting distinctive images of th

s
She felt no quakes,
no bumble bees,
no panic sharks reeling
in the pint of her belly.
Not once did her shoelace hair
curl like ringlets
not once did she hear bells.

Uncommon pairings, curious verbs, and a splash of liberating spirit develop as the poetry travels through time. As Ms. Brown works through emotions of despair, a stronger woman evolves. The work sings of survival while painting distinctive images of the world.

Examine these vivid phrases from “Fishing for Salmon.”

a laundry of birds gather
in a fold like sheep
like a fistful of jellybeans in a bottle

and:

there is some wind
flossing back and forth between homes

This unpretentious yet moving collection of poetry will earn a place of honor on your bookshelf. Don’t be surprised if you are drawn to reread it over and over again.