My Journal

Samuel’s Wife

"Faded beauty clings like dust to the shadows of her chiseled face. A straight-spined woman, she holds her head stiff and elevated, her chin jutting out, her lips tight and cobwebbed, as though she’s never spoken poetry, never prayed with a smile on her mouth, never licked syrup from her lips."~~Samuel's Wife by Brenda Sutton [...]

“Samuel’s Wife” Nominated for Pushcart Prize

I owe much thanks to the editors of The BroadKill Review for believing in "Samuel's Wife," one of my short stories, for sending me the most beautiful acceptance letter I've ever received after I submitted the story for publication, for relishing in its conflict, language, and metaphors, and for honoring me with a prestigious Pushcart [...]

When I Didn’t Bless His Heart

  My daughter, who was driving to the cabin, called while I was writing to tell me she couldn’t find the place. She'd made a wrong turn. The night was dark and the cabin deep in the country. I immediately abandoned my writing and took off in the SUV to meet her, planning for her [...]

Mr. Summers: The Scent and Sound of Friendship

I've been cleaning through blogs from my old website. I'll soon do away with the old site and focus only on my author page. This is an old post written in 2012. Mr. Summers: The Scent and Sound of Friendship Maya Angelou once said, “I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will [...]

Where I Grew My Wings

    Brenda Sutton Rose is the author of Dogwood Blues. ABOUT DOGWOOD BLUES Change has come to Dogwood, Georgia, dividing the town, friends against friends, neighbors against neighbors. With the liquor referendum on the ballot,  signs, declaring VOTE YES, others declaring VOTE NO, many signs as tall as billboards, pop up in yards throughout the city [...]

Wooden Markers on Slave Graves

2009: Mr. Burnett agrees to take me and my friends to Hester Cemetery, in the country between Lenox and Eldorado. The father of my friend Mary, Mr. Burnett is a handsome elderly man. He lives in Eldorado, not too far from the cemetery, in a lovely country home that makes me think of homemade cakes [...]

Used Cows for Sale

Used Cows for Sale.  The sign will lead me to Emory Tucker’s house, or at least that's what I've been told. Emory is my father's first cousin. My driving directions are scant, nothing more than a few confusing words I scribbled down when I first called Emory to ask about exploring his land. Hahira. Truck [...]

Bury ‘Em Here

2013: I left my husband at home to play bridge with his buddies and went to meet a couple of friends for a day of grave hunting.  The oppressive South Georgia heat was not merciful. It wasn't a good day for outdoor activity, but my friends and I had made plans and we would stick to [...]

Finding the Fletcher Graves in the Forest

2013: At my house this morning, my husband and I drag from the bed while the sun still sleeps. We have plans to search for the graves of Mary Vann (Polly) Dorminy Fletcher and her husband William Fletcher. Polly died in 1860 at the age of 52. She and William married in 1832. Sleep still [...]

Stains: A Reading of the Poem

I have read this poem on about four different occasions, the first at my mother's funeral. I've never published it except on my own website, though lines from the poem have been quoted by many, used on their own websites, posted with their photos. I hope you like the recording. My mama's dress bears the [...]