Tuesday, November 1, 2022



Death Became Her


She walks in so silently as if to hide

her shame.

No word spoken, as she fumbles through

her draw and takes her time to unwind.

She’s late, down, sad and mad

with herself, mad with the world.

Death is her choice, the bag she carries

is filled with broken promises,

and broken dreams.

Nothing to hold, as her fingers

goes through, trying to find the last

puzzle to her misery,

She buried her heart and soul

in a shallow grave.

No life, no family, no love,

as she sinks herself deeper

in a hole she’s already in

just to throw in the dirt.


She Can’t Do Better.


As the piggy bank broke, the dimes, the nickels

the pennies fell on the cracked floor.

The floor has lost its shine,

it’s stained and old.

The cracked walls cry as the roaches

goes and out as if in a dance.

Broken chairs and tables,

no money to fix them.

Hungry mouths to feed,

as she counts the coins.

The house smells like death,

as the wind blows through

the broken windowpanes.

The curtains all torn and dinged

as the air smelt like stale food and pissy

clothes. A man not wanted

not needed, but comes to be fed in the night

She has no shame, the bed, broken

down from the many nights of horror.

The children too young to understand,

but they see and hear.

She didn’t finish counting the coins,

She couldn’t cook a meal,

because she was the meal.

The kids dear not cry of hunger,

but sit in a corner, suck their thumbs

and swallow their saliva,

to quench their parched throats.

Death is coming soon, no mercy

for the kids, as he satisfies his hunger.


The Last Straw Made Her Snapped


The screams frustrated her.

Her dreams faded and lost.

Her hopes diminished like dust

that got lost.

She maybe wanted a better life

But having kids was her strife.

Nine months, nine months

you carried them,

and now her.

It’s too late now she’s dead.

Why this one, WHY!!!

Your frustrations were so deep?

You couldn’t sleep

Cause you couldn’t keep.

Keep up being a mother.

But you raised others.

Now the crying has stopped,

but it will haunt your soul.

No mercy, it’s payment time.

Now locked up facing a crime.

You don’t have a dime.

The prison walls will keep you

The orange suits will greet you.

Isolation will be your damnation.

You will suffer and cry

for your salvation.

The same thing that killed her

will kill you deep inside.

As you mourn her loss,

and never said goodbye.




LISELLE POWDER was born in the small Caribbean Island of Trinidad and Tobago. Born to Edwina Warner (deceased) and Bindley Powder. She is the last of six siblings. She is divorced and a mother of two daughters and a granddaughter. Having migrated to the US in 2014, she decided to write poetry about her experiences coming to America. She met with Edna White an Author, and the rest was history. Liselle has written in Edna’s book “No Sweet Meat Tell Me the Truth” and contribute to the school newspaper where she works. She also writes in Ms. Edna’s Magazine called “SPEAK MAGAZINE.” and wrote her first short story titled “Teenage Mom” and her poetry book titled “Still Overcoming”. Her book “Teenage Mom” will be out in April. With her continuous writing, she was entered in an Anthology for the months of June, July and November of 2020 and also June and July of 2021, and also for July 2022, Liselle wrote another book entitled “Welcome to America,” which is on Amazon. Liselle is also an artist and has also sold some of her work. Liselle held her first poetry show on July 10th 2021, and the reviews was excellent. Liselle hopes one day to have her first Art Show soon. Liselle has come a long way and she strives to be the best of top poets and artist the world is yet to see.

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