Friday, September 1, 2023



A Bottle Of Water


Not sure the date, but this is what happened.

A mother and son such a close bond.

He stayed back, so mama could reach home.

But feeling for something to drink, he stood there and think.

A bottled water, his eyes blink.

But that was it, he didn’t get time to sit.

A human shield he became,

as the bullets launched with his name.

His mother awaits his presence.

Home cooked meal, she sensed.

Maybe a knot in her stomach,

the hunger had to leave.

Where’s my son, he should be here by now?

Not knowing what transpired,

her son lay dead expired.

Still in his school uniform, as the bottle

rolled on the ground.

Didn’t get chance to quench his thirst.

As the blood oozes out,

in soft words mama came from his mouth.

He knows he’s not going home,

to eat a home cook meal.

His life taken at nineteen.


She Held The Unborn Secret


She paced and moved swiftly, back and forth.

Her aura so dim and gloomed,

like a death sentence was over her head.

Her mouth and lips trembled as she mumbled

to herself, to her thoughts.

Her eyes screamed in fright,

And her mind like a maze not knowing

which thought to let out first.

She’s not sure, she’s confused, knowing what’s

inside of her.

But I knew, a mother knows, because I was there,

I hid from my mother and my mother hid

from hers.

Generations of secrets that moved with us,

chased us, haunted us.

One by one they floored us.

But she did speak, her fears ran.

The unborn, the innocent is inside her.

What can I say? To myself,

or what can she say as a mother.

She’s not sure if she wants to.

Just another soul to be messed with,

as society awaits her birth.


Our Feet Ran


I had to make choices, some good some bad.

A twitching in my head ignited fright sometimes pain.

I watched my children talk amongst themselves.

The ambulance came for me.

With worried faces they wondered what next.

Leaving them behind, like I did before.

Not having the strength to say.

I love you, but I will be back.

At the hospital, they looked at me,

but wanted to treat me as having

a mental disorder.

Pills, vaccines, and a doctor to convince me,

what I needed.

It was a mental breakdown, a breakdown

of troubles and a sad husband.

I had to regain my strength, feel my way out.

I wasn’t going to be another statistic of mental madness.

I called my friend; she came so fast to take me out.

With tears streaming down her face like

water gushing down the mountain slopes.

She hugged me, then said “Let’s get the children,”

It was a race against time.

After being discharged from the hospital, I

called the children and said, “Get Ready.”

It was now or never to escape this treacherous hole.

A hole filled with weeds that almost choked me to death.

My friend drove so fast as if a road rage was going on.

We got to the kids; they were packing.

He wasn’t there. AMEN!!!

Our feet was moving so fast, grabbing stuff

from all direction, time was against us.

My friend stood by the door as a watch.

We packed, stuffed, and rammed stuff in bag packs,

suitcases, plastic bags, shoes thrown, catch and dropped.

 football in play, the only thing was if he was there,

it would’ve been PLAY BALL.

One, two, three, hut, run into him.

My mind strayed for a moment.

Zippers stuck, clothes hanging out from the suitcases,

arms holding bags, even mouths.

The place was in a mess, but we didn’t care.

All we knew freedom came, but not sure of the future.

As the door closed behind us, it was the

  last time walking away from these steps.

Leaving the misery, the pain, and unhappiness behind.

It’s like crumpling everything like paper that caused the bitterness

and throwing it away wherever, to rot.

It’s now or never, no turning back.

Our feet moved; we ran, as our lives was at stake.

The car was packed all squashed in.

Even with all our emotions and our fears.

 The car started, as the engine roared, the smoke

covered the windows. I smiled.

I breathe a sigh of relief; he didn’t come back to see us leave.

As the car drove off, a bit off sadness came over me.

It was not to be like this, in America no one helps you.

This is what I was told, but my friend did.

She kept on consoling, comforting, and uplifting us,

assuring us everything is going to be ok.

That’s all I needed to hear.

I smiled and thanked God for living.

As the house of pain disappeared into the distance.




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. Liselle held her first poetry show on July 10th, 2021, 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 short story “Teenage Mom” together with other short stories, is a combination by different authors coming together for the Anthology “Women Write Now” which was launched in November in 2022. With her continuous writing, she was entered in an Anthology for the months of June, July and November of 2020, also June and July of 2021, and for July 2022. Liselle was awarded the Cheryl R Canton Incentive and the Willie Henry Riddick Memorial Award in June 2021, for winning an essay competition placing first. 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 was honored and one of her poems was chosen for Black Poetry Day, in October 2022., and the reviews was excellent. Liselle will be honored in August and September at a gala ceremony for her contribution to writing. One of Liselle painting was accepted for an open call from the East Islip Council Gallery, the exhibit was in March and ended on the 14th of April. Another painting form Liselle was also accepted in an open Call to be posted on social media for the month of April, it was posted on Lisa D’Amico Arts platform and social media. Liselle also recited two of her poems at the Juneteenth celebrations 2023, in Harrisburg Pennsylvania, as she was a guest of honor sponsored by the Writers Workshop curated by Nathaniel Gadsden. 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.


No comments :

Post a Comment