She’s not all up and running,
She’s not out and about,
She’s sitting at the moment,
With her lips pressed together.
She writhes with pain,
Not just from conceiving
But also from deception,
Accompanied by rejection,
And what feels like hatred.

Too bad she can’t escape,
Or lock herself in a room,
If only that’d be possible…
She might somewhat recover,
And ease her desire of revenge.

Mother earth is tormented,
Cumbered with pain and anguish,
She hides her face from the light of day,
Her eyes are red from weeping.

A mother ought to love at all times,
Though her son be a thief-
A sore wound to society,
Or even a reckless drunkard,
Who takes a wee in public,
And does a Moonie before an audience,

Earth keeps weeping
She weeps because of tunnels,
Sewage tunnels that once had water,
Broken trees that covered her nakedness,
Smog and smoke which hurt her eye,
Her tears keep rolling down,
Filling oceans and seas,

Though her son sees them,
He looks away in ignorance,
While tides hit the walls of his chamber,
With time he might be swept off,
But she’s still pressing her lips together
Enduring the prevailing pain.

“Cover my nakedness with a robe,
Dry my tears, wipe my face.
Bring me a nice meal,
My hand I’ll stretch to bless you”,
Says mother earth in anguish.

But nobody listens,
Her son is out playing a flute,
So loud that he can’t hear,
Though he’s got all the notes wrong.
He rides on an unknown tone
Thinking that he might famous be.

His music notes spell pain and strife,
A note of ‘nuclear power’,
Another of ‘aerosol sprays’,
With intervals of ‘exotic species’

She’s in a hospital bed,
Writhing in pain in anguish,
Her deep cuts dripping with blood,
You may not cure her if you tried,
At least lick her wounds

-Liz Mish Poetry-


True Love Waits


I’ll wait for him.

Not because I have to.

No, it’s my commitment.

Good things come with sacrifices- this is mine and his too, I believe.

The kind of man who won’t try to win my heart,

because he understands that the one who has his heart took mine too.

He won’t have to fight for my heart,

cause he knows that the one constantly fighting for his, has got mine covered.

He won’t have to be my everything,

For the one who is in me is greater than the one who is in the world,

And he knows clearly that he can’t beat God at being omnipresent.

Who dreads that we would never fall in love,

And turn into a Sodom and Gomorrah- defiling every gift we have from Him.

He dreads that we would ever at any instance cheat on God;

Who preserved and brought us together.

A man who won’t desperately try to please me,

Till he forgets to please God, the great I Am;

For he comprehends that the one who made all things

(including his bride and the love they share)

Still deserves utmost, uttermost, upper most praise.

He’ll never pursue me,

Before he pursues the will of God.

For he knows that God has all the plans and strategies of my life,

And only He knows how to get in my heart, cause He’s already in.



Liz Mish Poetry



Sitting across the table,

He was looking at me,

No, he was actually staring at me,

Then ogling at me,

So I said that I’d pay the bill,

But he wouldn’t stop.

The cake was sweet I must confess,

You know me and cakes…

I was stuffing it down my throat,

I looked up and he changed his face,

“Excuse me”, I said.

“My cake seems sweeter than yours.”

That was a lie,

We were eating the same type of cake,

Except for, I was faster.

When I was halfway done,

I picked it right up,

Licked the icing right out,

Set it down again and kept eating,

I didn’t look up this time.

Afraid of any alarming looks.

Let’s cut to the chase:

I finished my cake,

(I mean every bit of it),

Licked my lips-

Actually didn’t use my serviette.

That’s when he spoke.

This time round, he had a troubled look.

So I asked,”What’s wrong?”

“You just ate the ring!” He said.

“I only had one piece of cake,

Not all the cakes in that ring!” I protested.

“Not that kind of ring,

I mean the engagement ring.” He cried.

What followed was really sentimental,

Especially on his part,

I got a week of bananas,

It’s like probation,

So I could get his ring back,

In the meantime, he was engaged to my stomach,

And in charge of getting me bananas.

Did I mention that I love bananas?

(I’m eating one right now).

Poor guy, he should’ve known,

if that ring was in my kales,

He’d have a chance to marry me,

But now he couldn’t,

I’m just glad I ate that gem.


_Liz Mish Poetry_