“My Poetry is Ministry”

Recently within the past couple of weeks, I’ve struggled with comparing myself to other creatives, specifically other poets. This caused me to experience a lack of expression because I was too caught up in what other people were doing. I found myself forcing words onto my paper rather than truly finding inspiration in my day-to-day, and I longed to please others rather than to write what I feel, and connect with others through that.

Most importantly, I forgot where my ultimate source of creativity comes from; I fixed my eyes on myself rather than on my Creator who blessed me with the gift of creativity.

After talking with Honey (my stepmom, for those who haven’t been reading my blog recently), I was inspired to write this poem. She said some wise things that I’ve incorporated here, one of which is the actual title of the poem – “My Poetry is Ministry.” I’m grateful to have such a godly woman of the Lord in my life to help steer me back on the right path when I feel like I’ve been lost.

So Honey, I dedicate this poem to you. Thank you for your prayers, and for always looking to the Lord so that you may speak His Word to others. 💛

“My Poetry is Ministry”

My poetry is ministry,

And I have treated it lately with such

Carelessness — scribbling down verses and words to try to impress rather than to

Try to connect.

My focus shifted towards selfish ways and it became more about filling a page and

I let comparison run rampant through my brain,

When what I truly needed was

My Father’s grace – the grace that bestowed this

Gift of words to me in the first place that

Birthed such beauty from ashes that I sat in —

Grieving a loss, questioning the purpose of my pen, trying to

Comprehend where I was headed, where my value lied.

My Father’s grace is the only thing that keeps my poetry alive it

Makes me feel like I don’t even have to try because it

Freely flows and

The inspiration is divine and

I know this to be true because

When I look back at what I’ve written when my heart is aligned,

There’s absolutely no way that it came from my own mind.

So, first things first —

My words are more than just sowed together scribbles that simply sound deep and that,

As my stepmother once told me,

“Could contain hell underneath,” no,

The bars I spit originate from the Most High and are

Spoken and written through me —

“A broken reed, a smoldering flame.”

Yes, my poetry is ministry so

Take my name out of the equation and see


But my Father’s grace.

#MishyWrites 🦋🌿

“My Healing (Growth)” – A Poem


So…I’ve been doing a lot of growing recently. Like A LOT; more-so than I thought when I first began this GROWTH series. And it’s been interesting to see how I’ve handled it; how I’ve had to have my toes lightly stepped on by the observations of my close friends, but also feel them wrap their arms around me in encouragement. How God’s put words, feelings, and situations in my path to help me realize that I wasn’t as far as I thought I was, but also feel Him smile upon me and say, “But I love you anyway, and I’m still working through you. My grace is sufficient.”

I’ll be honest, I have watered myself through so many tears earlier this week. I’ve had to uproot some prideful thinking that was beneath the surface that was eating away at me being able to grow up and grow out of things I was pretending not to idolize. And I’ve had to stop using being busy as a way for me to avoid processing through things so I can heal, and turn my branches towards the true Light.

The poem below describes my healing during a different time in my life, but I love how it still pertains to my healing now. It was created from a prompt out of Alex Elle’s poetry book Neon Soul. I’m excited to share this poem with you, and to keep these words with me as I continue to live, grow, and thrive.

“My Healing (Growth)”

The branches that I thought I needed that
Had potential fruit to bear
Were either cut off by my Maker or
Naturally separated and
At first, I thought it wasn’t fair since they were the
Only branches that seemed to have fruit.
How could God possibly take away these blessings before they could even bloom? Before they could
Grow into something more and
Ripen for others to eat?
They were the only branches that made me feel like my purpose was complete and
Now they’re gone and
It hurts.
The places they used to reside in now ache and I
Struggle to see how this wasn’t
Some mistake, how
This could be good for me in any way.

As the days went on, however, that aching eased and
I no longer envied the branches and fruits of other plants and trees.
My sore spots healed up after much
Sun, rain and love and care
From my Maker, Who despite my
Feeling lonely mostly through this process was actually
Always there, through every step.
And so, more branches began to grow and
Once they came, more fruit did too.
But this time both branch and fruit were firm and strong
So much so that I realized it had to take this long for
Good limbs and good fruit to produce.

This is the story of my healing.

#MishyWrites 🦋🌿

GROWTH – Part 1: uprooted

Due to some unforeseen toilet issues, I was crashing at my grandparents’ house all last week. Thankfully, the issues were resolved towards the end of the work week; however, I took up a dog/house-sitting gig located in the same area that my grandparents live in, so needless to say, I didn’t get the chance to stay in my house at all last week.

At the beginning of all this, I was really frustrated; I had to move a lot of my belongings from my home to a new location, which always means I’m bound to forget something important. My routine was thrown slightly off, although it was nice to be a little closer to work than usual. Last week just wasn’t what I intended it to be.

But as the week went on, my frustration subsided, and my perspective of the situation shifted. This year, my sister and I decided to see my grandparents who live in the area more often than we had in the past, so we see them two Sundays out of the month, hanging out at the house, catching up with them, sometimes eating dinner with them.

Last week I was given the opportunity to be in their lives for more time than I usually am. I was able to talk to them more about specific things affecting my life and their lives. I heard where they spent their time, and who they spent their time with during the week. And of course, I got a lot of grandparent lovin’, and who doesn’t want that?

It made me more grateful to be with them, despite the uproot of my belongings and my routine. Although uncomfortable and inconvenient at first, I see the benefits of being with my grandparents, and even being away from my own home. I can’t say exactly why God allowed this to happen this week, but the thoughts and ideas of an uproot – of changes, shifts, relocation come to mind…

Maybe last week I needed to be separated from my home because I was getting too comfortable with my normal routine. Sometimes monotony can cause me to forget the bigger picture of who I am/who God has called me to be, where I am, what I’m working towards, etc. It can also bring about lack of motivation, which I honestly have been feeling a little bit of. Maybe it was just time to spice things up a bit.

Maybe I needed to get out of my house to realign my focus. Truthfully, February brought about a lot of changes for me – some good, some bad. I started eating horribly again (after Valentine’s Day hit with all that sugar, I could. Not. Stop.), I began doing more things towards reaching my goals, which is good, but I was also losing so much sleep, and I was filling my days with so many events/meetings/hang outs, I would get to the end of my days and wonder what I even did during the day. And, of course, I barely blogged at all during the month because I was doing more running around. I was moving so much, my focus was off. And maybe I needed to just dive into a new space to shift everything back into place.

And I almost finished this blog post, but as I re-read the above paragraph, I can’t help but get excited. Because I used a word that I’d been praying about all last week and into this week, that God would just work through it – the word realignFor me, the significance stems from the line of a song titled “Born Again” by Cory Asbury, in which he sings, “Realign my heart and help me keep the first things first.” All I’m saying is…if this whole week was part of the answer to my prayer, I am extremely humbled and in awe of my God. Like, wow. His care for His children always blows me away.

Maybe my uproot was necessary to stimulate my creativity. It gets harder to write the more normal my routine is, the more comfortable I am with where I am. It also gets harder to write when I’m just crashing in the bed at night instead of giving myself time to wind down like I did at the beginning of the year. I’m telling you, February rocked my world.

And honestly, all of this has inspired a new theme for the month of March – growth. I had already planned to focus more on nature/greenery/green things this month anyway on my Instagram, and for my poetry, but last week the Lord really revealed Himself to me, tapped me on the shoulder, and whispered, Just watch what I do here as I move you up to your grandparents’ house for the week. Wait for me to reveal to you the positives of this uproot, and the lessons you need to learn. Listen to my voice as you go throughout this week in a different way than you normally would. See what I’m showing you? Now, go; work with what I’ve given you, what I’ve put inside you.

So, here I am doing just that. Yes, I’m still working through this, and I’m HELLA EXCITED that I’m in the midst of it. Yes, I just started a little mini-series of blog posts for the time-being, and I honestly wasn’t even expecting it to be like this, BUT HERE WE ARE!

And YES…there will be a set of poems about this. Stay tuned for the next parts of this series and the poems!

#MishyWrites #GROWTH 

A Soft Type of 2018 (Part 2)

“That’s the thing about people who are soft. Everyone else thinks they can walk all over them as though they won’t notice. But we do; we notice everything.” – page 202, Pillow Thoughts, Courtney Peppernell

So, onto part two of being a softie.

Like I said yesterday, I’m not naive; I may want to continue to be soft, but that definitely doesn’t mean that I’ll completely turn a blind eye, and pretend like I don’t notice when someone is walking all over me, or trying to take advantage of me in some way. I will not continue to be walked all over by the same person, or suffer through the same scenario.

Yes, there can still be forgiveness because forgiving someone is a huge step in allowing yourself to heal, and move forward. But being soft in that way doesn’t mean I should run back to the same person or situation that hurt me, and expect for things to turn around just because I have given them a second chance. Unfortunately, people are given numerous chances, but never change, and that is when you and I have to be soft towards ourselves, and let go. That doesn’t mean that we have to hate the person, but it doesn’t mean that we have to be that person’s friend, or constantly try to be in their presence either.

Forgiveness is good. Second chances can definitely be good; I mean, think about all the times you’ve been given a second chance. But if you have been walked all over several times by the same person or situation, take notice. Learn so that you won’t have to endure that same situation again.

And in 2018, along with embracing and growing into my softness, I also am going to be more aware and notice the moments of being walked all over. Know when to be soft to others, and give second chances, and when to be soft to myself, and let go.

#MishyWrites #Typeof2018

A Soft Type of 2018 (Part 1)

“We all are born with a softness, and it’s important to grow into it. Do not let the world turn your heart cold.” – page. 200, Pillow Talk, Courtney Peppernell

There were several times in 2017 during my self-reflection that I would think, I’m way too soft.

I always wished I could be strong enough to block people’s phone numbers or on social media when they weren’t a part of my life anymore, or actually stand up to people and let them have it when they wronged me. Yet, what do I do? I keep those numbers just in case. And I take the wrongs that have been done to me, and chalk it up as a lesson learned, and humans can mess up sometimes. I forgive, but forget only enough for me to not be extremely bitter and angry at the person / situation; I remember only for the lessons of it.

But there are times I wish that I could be seen as, well, sort of savage. So many of my friends talk about how I’m “too nice” to do or say certain things to people, and I cringe sometimes, knowing that they’re right about me.

I am a softie, and I always have been. I always look at situations, and try to pull the positive out of them. Most times I want to bring out the best in people, and not think of them as cruel individuals who are just out to get others, and there for themselves. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not naive (I’ll talk more about this in my part 2 post tomorrow); I would just prefer to think that not all people are inconsiderate or rude.

And as my birthday was approaching, and now as the end of the year is approaching, I wondered if I should try to become a little more firm – more biting. I feel like there are times people walk all over me, and I just take it, and I get so tired of it.

But there have been several times I’ve expressed this to friends or family members, and they give me the same response Courtney Peppernell writes in the poem above: “Stay soft. Keep your sympathy and empathy. The world needs more of that.”

And even though my initial reaction was more like, “Yeah, but do we need more of that? Is it good for my well-being to be this soft?” the continuous confirmations of “growing into my softness” have made me realize how important it is to be soft. To have sympathy and empathy for other people because you never really know what other people are going through, and they could be acting / reacting the way they do for a specific reason that you don’t know about.

So, in 2018, I have decided to not get rid of my softness, but to embrace it, and grow into it more so. To be more aware of it, and grateful that I am a soft person, and there are other soft people out there. Because there have probably been plenty of times I’ve done something to someone, and their kindness, their softness handed me mercy instead of the judgment mallet.

And so I ask you: Do you think you’re too soft or too harsh? Do you need to embrace your softness, or become softer? What are some ways in which you can balance yourself in this area?

I’m excited about part two tomorrow, but I’ll end with this quote from an Instagram story from Claire Marshall that my dear friend and fellow queen Cydney Irby sent me:

“I used to dislike being sensitive. I thought it made me weak. But take away that single trait, and you take away the very essence of who I am. You take away my conscience, my ability to empathize, my intuition, my creativity, my deep appreciation of the little things, my vivid inner life, my keen awareness to others pain and my passion for it all.” – Claire Marshall

#MishyWrites #Typeof2018

“the frustration of a fan.” – Day 11 of #12DaysofChristmas

On the 11th day of Christmas, Mishy gave to us…

“the frustration of a fan.”

*DISCLAIMER / EXPLANATION: I understand that there’s a difference between a fan being appreciative, and a fan who’s a legit fanatic – who turns appreciation into obsession to the point of stalking, or any other invasion of a celebrity’s privacy. I do not condone the latter; every person, whether well-known or not, deserves respect and privacy. This poem is about being a respectful fan who doesn’t feel appreciated by the person they admire, despite their respectful love. I also understand that celebrities have duties, and are short on time, so they can’t thank EVERY SINGLE FAN of theirs. This poem is based off of a specific instance I experienced with ONE particular person I admired. Okay. Continue LOL.

I gave you my love and you took it for granted.

It may be odd to many of you that I feel so strongly about this but honestly, I’m hurt, and
I can’t stand it.
It hurt to see that I’d been accepted into what seemed to be an inner circle, but then removed when my love wasn’t “good” enough.
I’m sorry if you wanted more, but out of my own circumstances, that was all I had,
And tough luck getting anything “good” from me because I know I’m worth more than that.
I think it’s unfair how you pick favorites;
How you’re not even that famous yet, but choose only those who are the stereotypical
Pretty and gorgeous, no,
You should be thankful for every fan you have.
Every “I love you” said or emoji that’s read in your Instagram comments.
Because you touched a soul, you influenced someone’s mind,
And they’re willing to go above and beyond to say how much they appreciate you,
How much you mean to them,
And, if they can, spend a little time with you because
They know you’re special; they can feel it in their heart.
But all of that means nothing if you take their love for you and laugh
And pick apart how they showed it to you…

“That was it? Removed.”
“She keeps tweeting me, ugh. Blocked.”
“He keeps commenting heart-eyes on every pic, and bruh, I just wish that he would stop.”

So you, as the fan, as the admirer,
Are left in silence while everyone else who is
Pretty enough,
Forward enough,
Flirty enough,
Good enough
Gets noticed.

I don’t wanna ever be like that.
I don’t wanna roll my eyes at someone who can’t help but express how much they love who I am and what I do.
It’s people like that who are the reason I say this often, “I can’t do this without you.”
Without the love and support, where would I be?
Definitely not putting out my words for you to hear,
Or watching you watch me when I make it to the stage.

I learned something from this – you can’t be too greedy when it comes to appreciation.
As someone who’s looked up to, you can never know the frustration of a fan
Who doesn’t feel loved or appreciated back.

Be kind. Stay humble.

~ written on June 22, 2017 at 11:32pm

#MishyWrites #12DaysofPoetry

“When you miss your flight…” – Day 10 of #12DaysofPoetry

On the 10th day of poetry, Mishy gave to us…

“When you miss your flight…”

And in that moment, You stopped me.
Stopped my heart and mind from the worries and stresses that this world so often hands me,
And I felt Your gentle Voice whisper,
“You’re okay.”

I also felt the guilt. I replayed the events of only minutes before, and saw the ugliness that my flesh so easily dealt out without stopping to think twice how my actions could hurt me and my friend more.

We apologized; we’re all good. But as I sit in this little seat, and think upon my words and thoughts, I can’t help but be a little grateful despite the frustration.

You’re still teaching me things. Still revealing to me the dark depths of my soul that I so often overlook to declare that I’m a good person as a whole.

We all like to believe that we’re good people, in general.

But to show me that I still have things to improve on, that I still need Your grace and mercy to make the right moves, and to remain insightful and humble because I’m such a handful?

Man. It’s only proof that You hear my prayers to mold me into someone more like You, someone better.

And for that, I thank You. I may be fumbling through this, but I know You steady me anyway. If this is what it takes to grow, Lord, test me any day.

Just by simply sitting in this chair, and thinking about the things I’ve lost, the things that went wrong, You slowly showed me that You’re still in control, that this was Your plan all along.

~ written on the flight to Denver to get to Cabo, after missing our original flight. 7:29am

#MishyWrites #12DaysofPoetry