I Am Going To Twist My Mouth

The portrait of a picture is so unique with the perfect shot.

All smiles, but behind them is a sadness that lingers in the

mind of despair.

Why smile? Not that I want to show my well put together 

teeth or perfect lips. Perfect?

Some lips are crusted, as life is recorded on a daily basis,

of frustrations that can only mean lack of freedom.

But I hide the true meaning of life, maybe I should twist 

my mouth in disgust that joined partners with my inside soul.

Should I cry or feel pressured by the fakeness of my life?

Is harmony and peace a part of my cause as I walk this lonely road?

Why bother to fake it to make it, 

when the true side of civilization and humanity is taken from us.

The list goes on of stories that can pinch a nerve and shock 

you as being riddled by bullets.

If I refuse to smile and twist my mouth, it will be ok.

My portrait will be noticed as the world see my pain.

It will understand.

Only the brokenhearted that looks through the lens

will see my path. 

They will see the roads and the tracks of the monotonous

living, they will look to see if there was a flowing river of 

tears that wet my feet as it drags from discouragement.

Yes, it will be me on display as there’s no mask, but my true

identity will be alive as my boarders and frame will speak volume. 

Don’t be mad just understand my life. 

I Am A 10, Maybe

Because I feel like a 10, it’s a make-up number.

A number that can change to one single digit.

That is stagnant for a while.

It can change to my lowness of my inner being,

as I grappled at life, to try and stand above the noise.

The noise that looks for company.

The noise that says you are not good enough.

I clasp my hands to pray, but my words don’t leave me.

My knees are tired of being in the same place.

They are tired of bending and taking up space.

It’s a rat race, hungry for that cheese.

If I say I am a 4 or 5 the world claps,

maybe a standing ovation.

They love me for that, with a pat 

on my shoulder, “Well done,” they say.

As they fixed their eyes on me with questions.

“What next?”

The negativity follows me like black smoke, 

because my fears and intimidation is burnt

and stamped in my soul.

If I choose to climb, they will try to pull me down.

Maybe stamp on my head or drag me to the ground.

They move their lips as it twitches, hungry for gossip.

Their eyes open wide as the sweet juice flows.

Lapping up everything that pours out 

from the bellies of unwanted souls.

Anything below 5 they will raise their glass and cheer.

That’s the atmosphere, as the 10 just stand there and look on. 

Waiting for me to reach it.

  

Her Life Was Thrown Into Garbage Bags

I see her, but she didn’t see me.

Her shadows lurked in garments of 

fragments that was torn from her skin.

She cried for help but she hid from the scars.

Into the bag I throw, pieces of her life.

Some filled with tears that was wiped by her hands.

Hands that surrendered to giving up.

As I looked in the bag I saw the 

downside of her life, then I saw the upside 

that made her smile and believed she can.

I saw her motherhood that carried her 

down a path she wasn’t sure of.

There were others that were separated.

Those fragments made her miserable.

As I looked in the bag. I saw her trying

to be appreciated.

Trying to be loved, as the love 

never loved her back.

I saw her storms and depression, as 

she ate every dark cloud that spoke

words to her open doors.

Doors that was locked, but she heard the knock

and she opened with welcome arms.

She is trying to closed the doors, but it

is filled with pain.

I closed the bags, but my pain is with her.

I can’t reach her physically, but my prayers

will reach her mentally as her fragments 

will fit one day.

LISELLE POWDER

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.