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Image by Elena Mozhvilo

Erisa Lewis

*My Mind As A Poet*

We are all told, “live your life to the fullest”; I am here to do just that. One of my favorite styles of writing is poetry. I am happy to share this passion with you all, and clue in my loyal readers as to what inspires me in this crazy world. So, sit back, relax, and read on.

Poetry: Welcome


Show me what a strong woman looks like,

Because I haven’t seen her in a while.

As I look at my reflection in this mirror,

I see remnants of a battle.

Tears shed, pleas made, and a heart broken.

The greatness in me screams to come out,

But she is held hostage by her own intimidation of herself.

She is so accustomed to rejection now, that even she rejects herself.

But in the vibrancy of her heart, she maintains a light of hope.

A light that cannot be dimmed or put out by anything or anyone.

She clings to it like her very last penny of wealth.

Like the last petal of a flower that once bloomed in her heart,

For she refuses to let it go,

Receiving her defeat.

Life lives and is abundant in her,

And the God that gives her life,

Gives her new strength.

Therefore, she conquers.


My divine purpose of design was being made to love you and to be loved by you.

But that’s not what I receive.

The reason you chose me to be a part of your life, is still a mirage of misconception.

You say you care for me, but you taunt my heart with distrust.

You say you love me, but you seek the touch and visual stimulation of another female silhouette.

You lie and try to deceive me as long as the ride will take me,

Until I realize, finally

Who and what is in front of me?

Not a man that loves, but a man that hates the fact that his idea of love, and the plot he tries to sell me, will never become a reality, or accepted by a society of strong, proud, respectable women;

Love deprived and desperate to see a changed man.


 It’s a killer, a heartbreaker, a murderer of trust and loyalty.

It’s serial genocide of relation and relationship.

Why would you cheat on love?

Did you know that by cheating me, you cheat yourself?

And every good thing that comes from me will die in disappointment

And be buried in heartbreak because of you.

Yes! I will recover, but at what price?

It is too expensive to lose everything I worked so hard to keep together.

All the changes and sacrifices I have made to see you happy and content.

But to no avail; the years tally my pain and doubt.

And as we go our separate ways I see clearly now; the evidence of all your games, lies and deceit.

But no worries;

I am not the one who stands in defeat.

You see,

For all the lessons I have learned from your game,

I win!

I pick up my cross and continue my journey and along the way

Love will find me again.

But you don’t know how defeated you are,

Because you’re still the same as I left you;

Chasing tail.

Have you ever watched a dog do that?

Ridiculous isn’t it?

Love is tainted when it’s filled with self-gratification,

But blossoms when we invest in our choice of a mate.

You get what you give.

Give love.


 My heart is in a state of arrest

Because without your love I must confess

That living without you

Without even a breath

Is heavy a load to put to rest.

I gave you up so that I could fly

Cause in the corner of my eye

You watched other women pass by.

Now that’s not love if you’re committed

So, spare me the details of why

Your heart wasn’t in it.

Now that I’m gone

You should see what I’ve become

A mountain

A mogul

But you’re still my number one.


 What condition do I have to be in for you to love me?

Will you love me beyond my faults?

Will you love me beyond the style of my hair?

Or the choice of fashion I choose to wear?

What drives you?

 What makes you stay?

Can a man truly love his woman?

Or is it just a game to play?

Does love have any meaning in your eyes?

Or are you just in love with the ride between my thighs?

The rhythm and song we air, tells me you care, as you stare and glare

At the pleasure before you.

But when the waves get too rough; we scuff.

It gets tough, and I feel like I’m no longer enough.

Truth is

It’s our condition

Our bond,

Our, you and me,

Our thing,

That suffers and is weak with conditional sickness of heart, from the start.

More trust was a must.

Intent to tease, should have been to please.

Our value should have grown,

Because it’s one another we have be known.

You make me better, was not our petition.

So here lies our love

Dead, regretfully

In this sorry condition.

Conditional love.


 It’s been said by many men that women are too emotional.

But they fail to understand the significance of it,

And why we are made with such fragility.

See, our emotions come from God, and He created us to be open hearted vessels.

Without it, we would be cold, vague and as useless as a key with no door to unlock,

Or a bird with no song.

Our communication isn’t with man, it begins with God of the most-high Heaven.

Before we are born, our existence lies solely in the hands of the Creator,

And we are then released into the living of existence beyond His Majesty.

So, you see, our emotions are our way back to His presence.

He accepts our offerings, He sees our heart, our tears, our mental state,

And He acts upon our desire to seek Him and His heart.

When you pray to Him,

When you dance for Him,

When you sing to Him,

He hears, sees and knows your state of emotion.

Your heart is open, and no man understands you better that Him.

So next time someone criticizes you for being simply who you were created to be,

Say to them, you don’t have to accept it, but God does.

Therefore, I am beautifully stated, emotionally.


 Words can’t express how much I love Him.

He fills my mind with peace,

He sets my heart at ease.

It’s easy to lose sight of what we need,

And even harder to gain control of it,

This is true indeed.

He is our guide, our light out of darkness

 The spirit utters our course of direction.

 Sometimes we hear Him speak,

And make our destination.

Other times our heart is weak,

And plagued with great procrastination.

If were not careful to keep His hand,

We wander off to desolation.

But yet quietly and patiently, He waits and lingers,

By our side,

In our quarters

Wherever we abide.

To quicken us back to our sense of purpose,

Our path,

Our destiny,

Our destination.

Poetry: List
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