“Tula, the Hibiscus Tree” 🌺 (POEM)

Today, I sat down to write, and when I looked outside, I saw
Tula…my hibiscus tree.
The one my man got me for our one year anniversary of dating, yes,
She was so pretty when she first arrived —
Bright pink petals pushing out from thin twigs that
Wrapped themselves around each other into a twist,
That’s what she used to look like. Now?

As I sit and look at her, I can’t help but be sad by her state.
No longer are there any pink petals or green leaves.
Only twigs remain.
We did go through a change of seasons —
Fall and winter came and went, and as cold as it gets during those times, I
Knew Tula wouldn’t be in bloom then
But now that spring has arrived, and I see the other bigger tree beginning to sprout its green leaves, I
See Tula’s bare twigs and wonder if maybe
Her bare being is reflective of the care I’ve taken, not of her, but of myself.

Because all through the fall and winter, I too shed leaves like a hibiscus tree.
My petals were pulled off by me and my
Self-sabotaging tendencies, I
Viewed other plants and how they grew,
And envied the way they looked,
Wishing I could be like them.
When all the while, I should have been tending to my own roots, and
Waiting for the spring to come around,
Praying for the Lord to show me who I am so that I
Didn’t have to fear the way that others looked in comparison to me.

So, in a way, when I look at Tula, I see myself.
And I wish that I’d taken better care of the both of us. I wish I’d spent more time with my Creator, speaking to Him and
Depending on His view of me rather than
Caring too much about the other plants He made.
I look at Tula, and I fear that we won’t bear fruit or flower this season.
I wonder if maybe it’s too late for us.

But I still have some hope —
I took the time to water her today with some nutrients good for her soil,
And I fed her some food to help her grow along with the sunshine and warm weather we’ve got these days.

As for me…I know there is hope.
And I must do the same things:
Water myself, be fed the best spiritual Food there is (the Word),
And let it nourish my soul.
I look forward to see in the days to come just how much Tula and I have grown.

But our growth shouldn’t stop once we bloom.
No, even before we bloom, may we help others grow too.
May we look at other flowers and trees without envy, and admire them
For we do not know the journey they took to become what they are now.
So, let us water those who need it and
Celebrate those who have surpassed us.

For these are signs of sure growth as well.

Mishy 🦋🤍

for poetry.

Another day, speedily come and gone. I even woke up earlier than usual, guys! And I’m down to a little less than an hour to write. Again. 🥴

At least my days are filled to the point where I’m not extremely bored! I realized today (or maybe it was late yesterday) that this month is NATIONAL POETRY MONTH! 🙌🏽✨ And if that’s the case…then I want to write a poem every day, all month! I’m already behind 2 days, so it looks like it’ll be 3 poems for me tomorrow!

And thankfully, after a good conversation with Pa today, I will be able to branch out my writing thought process by joining a Zoom writing workshop that he’s been going to that happens twice a day (with the same prompt). I missed today, but I hope to make it to tomorrow morning’s at 11am!

I wonder…are there anymore online writing workshops going on during this time? Maybe some workshops on IG live? I did hop onto Rupi Kaur’s (author of poetry books milk and honey and the sun and her flowers) Instagram live once during this quarantine time, and she was doing a poetry writing workshop 🤩 If anyone knows of anymore, please, holla at ya girl! 😁🤙🏽

Well, hopefully I’ll have better content tomorrow here for y’all. I know for some people these days are dragging on, but for me, they’re speeding by quickly!

How can you find a way to be more engaged with your craft/hobby? Who can you connect with to help you advance in it further?

Mishy 🦋🤍

“for these times.” (POEM)

Breathe.
Breathe deep…
Each day you awake is another day to live ,
Even if the things you do seem a little repetitive, you must know that
There is still purpose in all of this.
In staying put, and laying low in one space.
In giving silence room to speak to you while it has its chance,
Since you’re left with limited things to do with
So much time on your hands.
Do not give way to the voices that try to bring you down during this time.
Fight through the noise; rest in the quiet.
And if you really need to, don’t be afraid to step outside.
People will discourage the act; say you’re part of the reason this season is still here,
But if you truly believe this situation is out of your control and that
You’re covered by the One Who holds all things together,
Then breathe; breathe deep,
And take that first step out to freedom.
Be bold in faith, but wise;
Open your eyes to the possibilities this pause in life holds for you.
Trust that this time was made to make you, not break you.
And know that like now, all seasons have their time,
Then they pass and bring others along.
So breathe….breathe deep.
And live this day the way you’d try to live it if things were “normal,”:
Like it was your last.

I know a lot of people are doing a lot of finger-pointing right now; those who choose to stay inside all day every day to flatten the curve are angry and frustrated with those who have decided to go outside at some point. When I say to be wise when going outside, I mean to only go outside for necessity – grocery store shopping, if you have to go to work, stepping outside in your own backyard (or whatever outside area you have if you’re in an apartment) for a little fresh air and keeping your distance. Because let’s be honest…we’re all probably going a little stir crazy being inside. And breathing in the same stale, dead skin-filled air in your apartment or home maybe isn’t the best for some.

Again, just be wise, and be mindful of other people and their situations without immediately going into anger or hate. Everyone wants this to be over, and there’s a lot of different voices and opinions going into what’s happening. Stay safe, clean, and healthy; wash your hands, keep them away from your face, drink plenty of water, and most importantly KEEP PRAYING IN FAITH for yourself, your family, your friends, the community, the world.

Much love,
Mishy
🦋💚

those moments.

How silly of me!

Yesterday was officially the first day of spring, and I could’ve added how perfect it was due to all many blessings I experienced yesterday. We’re FINALLY out of the wintry fog and rain! I cannot express how happy I am that winter is over. Now, we just need this whole coronavirus thing to blow over along with it!

While yesterday was a pretty special day, today is a special day too. It’s a day I’ve talked about frequently if you’ve followed my journey closely for quite some time. But to those who are fairly new, I’ll try to keep it short and simple…

Three Years Ago Today…

I was at a William Singe concert in Nashville, by myself. I got VIP so I was able to meet him and Alex Aiono, who was touring with him. Along with them, I got to meet the keyboardist of the tour, Silas Doss (he’s also a songwriter and producer). Silas gave me an opportunity to speak a poem on his Instagram live that night, and that was the first time I’d publicly said a poem of mine for an audience of that many people, even if they were online.

After that night, I knew I was made for poetry. The responses and replies to my words were so love-filled. People truly connected with my words, and I felt extremely humbled to feel that. I could feel the Lord confirming it in my soul that night. Who knew a concert night meant for fun would be the same night my purpose was revealed?

But Even Passed that Night…

There have been plenty of other days and nights that helped shape me and my poetry. Like the night I went to my first poetry workshop in Chattanooga (where my Poetry is LIT people at?). Or the night I performed on stage for the very first time. Or the night I went to an open mic, unexpectedly performed a poem, and ended up meeting the love of my life. It’s crazy how moments change us like that – we meet new people, experience new things, God opens new doors and closes others.

Even as we all sit in our homes, these moments are still shaping us. There can still be a time that defines when things changed for you. Maybe you decide to create that blog or YouTube page you always wanted to make because now you have the time. Maybe you can practice an instrument, or pick up playing a new one you’ve always wanted to try. Maybe you’ll get the courage to talk to that person you’re interested in now that you’ll both be in quarantine/social distancing, but technology allows you both to get to know each other better. Maybe you’ll look yourself in the mirror and finally stop sabotaging who you are, and decide to love yourself from here on out, no matter what.

Whatever Moment You Have in the Next Week (or So)…

I hope you catch it. I hope you realize it, and feel every bit of it as you’re experiencing it. Because a moment like that only lasts so long, and it’s difficult to truly relive it the way it initially happened.

That doesn’t mean you can’t reminisce on a moment like that, because of course you can! Just do your best not to let any moments you have these days pass you by. Take it all in.

What is a special moment (or special moments) that you can think of that changed the trajectory of your life? Do you think you’ve had a moment like that currently/recently? How has it affected you during this time?

Mishy 🦋💚

Behind the Words + POEM: “hide and seek”

Yesterday, I saw a Facebook post written by Brynija, a sister poet in my city, where she expressed some of the same emotions I honestly have been feeling as well, about writing poetry and not feeling familiar with it. Although I hate that she felt like this too, it was comforting to know that we’re not alone when it comes to our writing journeys (read my post “Behind the Words: I” to get a taste of how my relationship with poetry was from when 2020 began and into February).

As I thought about it, I was inspired to write this poem. I’m not exactly sure how Brynija felt about her words being unfamiliar, but I know I personally felt like my words had gone on vacation, and didn’t tell me when they’d return. It was as if their departure was a way for them to hide, and I had to follow the trail they left behind to seek them out.

Yet I know that I cannot force poetry out of me; it must have the freedom to arrive and leave as it wills. And even if it does do this, it doesn’t mean I’m any less of a poet than I was when words constantly came out. So, I hope all the poets/writers enjoy this poem! 😊 And even if you’re not a writer or even a creative, that you can insert your own passion into this poem, and be assured that even if it may seem you’re struggling in what you love, it doesn’t mean the feeling will last forever, and it doesn’t mean your passion is gone for good.

“hide and seek.” (POEM)

Our words don’t long to stay hidden in
Our hearts or our heads,
Even when we feel they’ve runaway from us with no
Voicemail or forward address, no
Timetable of when they’ll return.
Yet sometimes it may seem that way; we may feel like we’re reaching for thin air,
Our desire to speak up and to be heard growing minute by minute, but
Fading in disappointment as we lack the words to say, to write.

We cannot force it. We must give it time.

For when the words feel the need to be used, they’ll arrive, they’ll
Come pounding at the door of our minds, longing to settle in our hearts, eager to escape from our fingertips and our tongues and lips, yes,
We’ll feel at peace...our natural senses restored, we’ll
Let them flow out of us unhindered with ease.
Who knows how long they’ll stay? Maybe as long as we keep letting them in...
As long as we remember that our identity and calling do not change even when the words are absent...
As long as we’re open to having them come and go as they please, and we
Release the panic that wants to settle in if they do decide to leave...
We’ll be content and secure when our words play this occasional game of
Hide and seek. – Mishy 🦋💚

“Refreshing Come” (poem)

“Change my thinking.

Break the chains these thought patterns bring that

Distract me from everything I should be doing, how I should live my life.

This cycle is addicting; I’ve gotten used to letting it run its course and

Have it’s way with me, well,

I refuse to let it run rampant through my brain anymore.

I’m asking my Savior to help me cut ties with them, to

Strengthen me as I abandon this negative mental state.

It has done nothing but brought me low; it’s caused me to

Forget who I really am, and why I was created and given the gifts that I have.

It’s made me let go of things I once held close; now I struggle to know whether

I am just as worthy as I used to be, or if

My ability to be used has decreased.

Change the way I think, let the

Inner workings of my being reflect outwardly by fruit.

Let the song I sing not be one of mourning, but a

Hymn of praise that rejoices in Truth.

Let it be sung over my mind, spirit, and heart:

Refreshing come.”

Mishy 🦋💕

From the Drafts: “remind(s) me of you.”

The following poem is taken from r.h. sin’s poetry book i hope this reaches her in time, and this along with an event that happened around the time I read it for the first time inspired me to write the poem below “remind(s) me of you.”

“sin’s choice”

realizing that I didn’t
have the courage to love you
in the way you needed
I let you go.
because you couldn’t
I did it for you.

– r.h. sin


“remind(s) me of you.”

“The poem above reminds me of you.

It reminds me of the lies I thought you’d said, how
You used to make me feel like I wasn’t enough.
You left saying it was for the best, for my best,
But you were just being selfish and
Found other women to satisfy your urges that I
Never could’ve.
Our story became a game of tennis, or
Better yet…you were a boomerang.
I’d throw you out into the ether just to have you
Come back again.

For a while, I believed that you meant well,
But your words fell flat when your actions were lacking.
So I got used to being let down by you.
You taught me that love is just something that’s too good to be true.
You made no effort – yet you begged me for mine.
And instead of ignoring your pleas, I gave it to you, I
Fell for your lies about caring for me.
You played the boy who cried wolf, always
Claiming you’d be there for me,
But you never showed.

No…you never showed.

And now, you’ll never have the chance to speak to me again.
Your efforts have been blocked, your lies
Deleted from my phone so I
Never have to hear or read your whines about
Always being alone or
Never getting to see me.

So long and farewell…we may never meet again.

No more trying to reel me in with your devices,
Knowing that my “too nice” attitude and my admiration of your writing would
Hit my soft spot…
The spot has been replaced for another sensitivity.
A whole other entity who’s far from who you ever were, or will ever be to me.

So, please…
Stop sending me your poetry.

It’s enough to know that there are other poems like the one above that
Remind me of you.”

6/20/2018

Mishy 🦋

Behind the Words: “I”

I wrote an apology letter to Poetry on my Instagram, because she (she’s a she in my mind lol) and I, well, there’s just been a lack in our relationship. I feel like I’ve been afraid to be near her because I’m afraid I don’t have what it takes to be with her.

Maybe some have felt like this in a person-to-person relationship at some point ; maybe you’ve felt like you don’t deserve to be that person’s friend or significant other or spouse, due to mistakes you’ve made in the past or presently or because of who you are or what you look like. Maybe you feel like you’re not good enough, or you don’t measure up to a standard you think you must have or surpass to be with that person.

And that’s how I have been feeling with Poetry recently. I’ve been struggling to put words together, and when I do make the attempt, I feel like I’m trying too hard, and it can be seen in what I write. I’ve felt like maybe I don’t deserve Poetry after all; maybe it longs for me to let it go so it can create genius elsewhere.

So, instead of continuing to try to push words onto paper, I felt too afraid to keep pursuing after Poetry (not completely, just when it came to writing anything new). I didn’t want to force anything creative because I was afraid it wouldn’t sound genuine or even sound good, so I kept my distance.

But what if I’d done that in a human relationship? What if, instead of communicating my feelings, or trying to make things work, I just kept my distance? Could I really say that I loved that person? How could we grow and learn like that? So, how could I grow and learn with Poetry if I didn’t continue to try and pursue it and learn with it?

I feel like I had to go through this season for a couple of reasons…

“Stay Ready…”

I think there’s something to be said about attempting, even if there is no major inspiration. Even if I don’t feel inspired enough to write a poem, I can still go back to my old journals and re-read poetry I’d written before, maybe allow it to spark something inside me. Or I can continue to compile the poems I’ve written into the book I’m still writing (and plan on finishing this year). Continuing to work at my craft doesn’t require me to continuously write; I can seek out other outlets that still relate to it, and come back to the actual writing when the time comes.

Honestly, I’m still working on that part: being consistent with what I’ve got, even if it’s not what I think I need to be working on right then. And I’m working on being better at laying an actual foundation for things, and not just hopping from one thing to the next, which is way too easy for me to do. I just jump at opportunities when they arise instead of thinking about how those opportunities can be better mapped out onto my original plan.

Whoever came up with the phrase, “Stay ready so you don’t have to get ready when the time comes” is a genius. Because that’s exactly what I’m learning to do right now. How can I be ready for bigger opportunities when I’m not even ready with the little I’ve got?

The Reason Why

Now I know I had to go through this awkward phase with Poetry for a reason. Honestly, I’ve been too busy looking at what other people have been accomplishing, and it’s caused me to feel sort of down about myself. I started feeling like maybe I wasn’t good enough to experience those things, or maybe all the work I was putting in was just emptying itself out into nothing.

And because I was focusing on all of that, I wasn’t remember the whole reason WHY I got into poetry in the first place. I was forgetting the highs I got when people simply connected with something I wrote, when they related so much they appreciated feeling like they’d been seen, like they weren’t crazy for feeling the way they felt.

The purpose of my poetry isn’t so I could achieve a bunch of things, or gain a lot of money or recognition, although that would be a blessing; the root of it is to make people feel loved and seen. It’s to point to a Hope and Light that is far greater than even the words I write or speak. And losing sight of that caused me to lose the true Power in which my words come from.

So, even though the distance has been emotionally exhausting and mentally draining at times, I’m grateful that God allows things like this to happen to lead me back to where my focus needs to be, in my life in general, or in my poetry specifically.

Mishy 🦋🌸

LOVE…of Poetry

My love for poetry actually didn’t start in my childhood, like some people’s desires to become doctors, astronauts, etc. In fact, I didn’t always want to be a writer…my first love was singing. I loved to sing in the car with my dad, at school in the choir, and once The Cheetah Girls came out, I was convinced it was for little girls like me who wanted to become famous singers and choreographers just like them.

Eventually though, my love for singing faded; mostly because I was shy. My dad was proud of my ability to sing, and he’d want people who came to the house to hear me sing, but I was too shy to really want to. Imagine that…me, shy. The thing is, I’m not shy when it comes to making friends, but when it comes to my gift, it’s a whole different story.

So, after taking voice lessons in the sixth grade, but then desiring to do cheerleading, and being told that cheering would mess up my voice, I was sort of at a standstill. The summer before my seventh grade year, Honey (my stepmom) told me she was writing a book, and encouraged me to write one too since I had been an avid reader since I learned how to read.

That began my love for writing.

I wrote a few mystery books through my middle school years, the last one being written my first year of high school. From high school on, I dabbled in fiction writing because that’s what I loved to read. In college, I took creative writing classes, and continued to stick to the fiction genre, despite being somewhat discouraged by my college professors critique on what I’d written.

Poetry had never crossed my mind. I always thought it was for those hipsters at my college who drank coffee out of a French press, and discussed philosophy and art history for fun. Part of me felt like I’d never be able to rhyme anything, or even try to come up with metaphors for the world, so why bother? And then when we tried to examine poetry, and people came up with what seemed like off-the-wall interpretations, I decided that poetry was just not for me.

How That Changed

The summer after I graduated college, I went through a situation where a potential relationship didn’t end up working out. I was pretty devastated; I had just graduated, was back home trying to figure job things out plus what in the world I wanted to do with my life, and then this occurred. I fought the self-sabotage demons hard; I really felt like I was lacking in so much.

Before my best friend Bria moved to California for her new job that summer, she and I were in Barnes and Noble one day and I picked up the poetry book milk and honey by Rupi Kaur. I opened it to a random page, and the poem I read related to my current feelings and situation, and I was immediately drawn in.

I said to Bria, “This is considered poetry? I thought it had to rhyme and whatnot…”

And she replied, “No, poetry doesn’t have to rhyme! Contemporary poetry can be short and simple…”

I ended up buying that book. And while I read Rupi Kaur’s words, and the poems that resonated me, I began to think that maybe I could write poetry too, to help heal me and get me through the funk I was in.

I started a secret tumblr page, and I dropped some poems here and there. It was just nice to get what I was feeling out in a creative form that wasn’t just journaling.

Honestly, I can’t even remember exactly when I decided to become a poet. I feel like once I moved away from home into the city I’m in now, there was a shift. I was blogging like crazy, but I wanted to do more. I kept writing poetry. I was exposed to the creative community here in my city, met up with people who wanted to pour into me, and then things began to snowball.

The nickname “Butterfly” came from a group of girls I met online who supported me after I said a poem on my friend Silas’ IG live. He played keys for the artist William Singe when he went on tour in 2017, and he gave me that opportunity that allowed me to connect with so many who connected with my words.

They started calling me that because I was doing motivational talks on Instagram live, and it was just a positive nickname they gave me that turned into a part of my artist name, and also the start of a poetry project I’m still working on.

Poetry means so much to me. And honestly, I feel like I’ve been at odds with it recently because I lost the main reason and purpose of why I began to do it in the first place. It’s easy to get caught up in the things you need or want to do, like promote, make content, record, perform, but writing this blog post and contemplating over my poetry and it’s purpose has made me remember the reason why I love it so much.

I love poetry because of the way words can connect to my heart, to my feelings. How they can make me feel understood, make me feel like I’m not alone in feeling how I’ve felt or how I’m currently feeling.

And now I feel inspired. Bye for now, I’m going to go write before it gets too late…after I finish this episode of Living Single.

Mishy 🦋

the scary things.

Lately, I’ve been SCARED.
So scared to pick up a pen, and attempt to write poems again.
Guess I fear that they won’t flow like they used to.
Lately, I’ve been doing my best to pick myself up again, tending to this mind, body, soul of mine that’s been
Battered and bruised due to my own beatings,
Believing lies I’d formed in my mind that told me I couldn’t measure up, or
Be good enough for anything or anyone.

So interesting that this month surrounds itself with FEAR.

🎃 👻 🤡 👹 😱 🎃 👻 🤡 👿 😱 🎃 👻 👹

We binge-watch scary movies, go to haunted houses or forests, force ourselves to face our fears, even though we may be scared.
Even if we do scream, flail, run away in the process.
This month, we indulge in the things that haunt us, and even if we ARE scared, we still put ourselves through it.
And maybe we do this because we know that after the scary things happen…we are safe. We eventually get out of the woods or house, finish the movie, we take off the masks and costumes, and deflate the pop-up yard tricks, and things are back to normal.
Well, except now we’ve got all this candy to eat. And what a treat comes out of the possible tricks we may go through to get those sweet memories.

So…what if we treated our every day lives like it was 🎃HALLOWEEN?🎃

What if we faced the things that scared us anyway with the attitude that whatever is on the other side is sweet? Is relief? Is us coming back to the reality of our lives, mask off,
Unafraid to be who we truly are?
What if we pushed past fear, knowing and believing there were sweet things in store for us to indulge in after the fact?
If we lived our lives like every day was Halloween, we wouldn’t hesitate or look back at our mistakes and wonder where they’ll take us but we
Would step out in faith instead.

And this is what this poem is:
A step of FAITH.

Because for days now, I’ve wanted to write out things I’d been thinking on, but was too afraid it wouldn’t come out right. I’d been focused on other things so heavily that I
Neglected a root of my being, I failed to water it, and
Give it Light, but tonight
In spite of how I may be feeling,
I still gave it a try.

And reading back what I’ve written…it’s a sign, it’s a
Wonder I didn’t just
Do the scary things:
Pick up the pen,
Open the book,
And just start writing.

Mishy Writes 🦋🎃🧡