Georgia Stewart McDade

Georgia Stewart McDade, a Louisiana native who has lived in Seattle more than half her life, loves reading and writing.  Earning a Bachelor of Arts from Southern University, Master of Arts from Atlanta University, and Ph. D. from University of Washington, the English major spent more than thirty years teaching at Tacoma Community College. As a charter member of the African-American Writers’ Alliance (AAWA), McDade credits AAWA with making her regularly write poetry. She regularly contributed opinion pieces for Pacific Newspapers, especially the South District Journal and reported for community radio station KBCS (91.3 FM).  A prolific writer, she has works in AAWA anthologies I Wonder as I Wander, Gifted Voices, Words? Words! Words, and Threads.  Her works include Travel Tips for Dream Trips, questions and answers about her six-month, solo trip around the world; Outside the Cave and Outside the Cave II, collections of poetry; and numerous essays, stories, and other poems.  Soon her third collection of poetry and a volume of short stories will be released.  Among her several writing projects are the biography of her high school principal and journals kept during her travels.

Three poems of your authorship

If Only

If only I had asked for less,


not wanted the best,


been satisfied to survive,


never known I could live and thrive, 

taken the line of least resistance, 

settled for anything,


accepted everything,


Then life would have been conflict-free

Because there would be no me!

©Georgia S. McDade

4/25/06

Power People

I wonder what presidents, premiers, prime ministers, and kings say when officials tell them there’s a casualty in war.

Do they say, “Damn,” “Shucks,” “Wow,” or “I never expected this?”

Do they curse or bow their heads or say a prayer? Do they ask some Superior Being, “Why”?

Do they think about the moms and dads, sisters and brothers, sons and daughters, aunts and uncles,

       wives and husbands, cousins and friends? Do they think about the voids created because of the

       departures?

Me? Oh, I never want anybody to go to war.

Oh, I always think communication can solve the problem. That’s genuine, as in honest, communication.

I won’t argue about the wars before my coming, especially the one they said would end all wars.

But since I have been here, I don’t think there has been a war that had to be.

In all of them there is fighting, killing, and then signing a treaty,

I say let’s fast forward and skip the killing.

Let’s talk.

See, I pray the moms and dads, sisters and brothers,

          sons and daughters, aunts and uncles, wives and husbands, cousins and friends will be ok.

But I know they nor the returning soldiers will never be the ok they were before the soldiers went.

There are the dead about whom we can do nothing but express condolences and give a sum of money. 

There are the physically maimed for whom we can pay medical bills.

There are the mentally ill for whom we MAY pay medical bills but often send on their way only to read their obituaries 

          after they have killed someone or ones and themselves.

And then there are all of those who have no visible scars. We don’t keep track of them or the changes—the broken

          relationships, nightmares. This madness is much too much.

It can drive a sane person mad.

I wish I didn’t wonder what the presidents, premiers, prime ministers, and kings say when officials tell them there’s a  

           casualty in war.

©Georgia S. McDade

02/27/03

A New Revelation 

I know God. 

He is omnipotent. 

He is omnipresent. 

He is omniscient. 

Omniscience fascinates me most. 

He knows everything. 

He knows everything about everything. 

I should put a period there. 

But being far from omniscient, I sometimes question His 

      omniscience regarding me. 

I know that upsets some folks. 

It upsets me. 

But when I’m told He knows how much I can bear and I’m 

      weighed down, I sometimes question. 

Then, sometimes later, sometimes much later, I have an 

      epiphany; a revelation occurs to me. 

I overcame. 

I’m still here. 

I’m still telling the story. 

So I have to rethink. 

Here is my new conclusion: God has more faith in me than 

I have in myself, much more. 

©Georgia S. McDade

June 3, 2015