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Dr. Ivan Edwards Poem
Pain refines,
but grace restores.
This is the whisper
of strength.
There are days
when the world feels heavy,
when the echoes of yesterday
press against the walls of today.
You walk forward,
yet the past lingers like a shadow . . .
a silent presence
reminding you
where you’ve been.
But hear this:
You are not bound
by what was.
You are shaped
by your resilience,
by the moments
when you chose to rise,
even when
the weight of it all
begged you
to fall.
Pain has touched you,
but it has not
broken you.
Instead,
it carved wisdom
into your bones,
strength
into your spirit,
and grace
into your steps.
Healing comes.
Whatever storm
you walk through now,
it is not here
to consume you.
It is here
to remind you
of the fire within,
the unwavering light
that refuses to dim.
Rescue comes.
And in this chapter . . .
you choose to rise.
Let these words
settle within you.
Breathe in
strength,
exhale
doubt.
You are seen,
you are heard,
and
you are never alone.
Copyright © Dr. Ivan Edwards | Year Posted 2025
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Dr. Ivan Edwards Poem
Excerpt from Resonance of the Soul – Flowers and Harmonics. This poem appears in the soon-to-be-published anthology, published by IEME LLC, and coming soon to Amazon and major bookstores. It is also featured on YouTube, bringing its words to life through spoken expression.
When a man loves you,
truly loves you,
he will love you back twice,
with fire in his heart.
His touch speaks trust, not suspicion.
Seek not his purse,
nor his seed for lineage,
he will sense it,
and he will flee.
He craves genuineness,
pure and unfiltered.
Tell him: "I love you because of you,
not your name,
not your title,
not your wealth,
but the light that radiates from your soul."
Shine for him,
and
he will love you.
When you respect him,
when you listen—truly listen—not just to his words,
but to the rhythm of his silence,
he will love you
with a force that shakes the heavens.
Tell him: "I love you because you ground me,
protect me.
Your love keeps me anchored in
a world full of storms."
Be kind,
be sweet.
Love his mother with tender humility;
honor his father with quiet reverence.
Speak no ill of those who gave him life.
In your grace,
he will see the queen of his destiny,
the jewel of his crown,
the keeper of his fire.
Listen to his heart,
not just his voice.
Hear his cries more deeply than his laughter.
Hold his hand with wonder,
and he will lift you to realms unseen.
Feed not just his hunger,
but his dreams.
Let him yearn for your touch
in the still of night,
and he will love you back
with a devotion unbridled,
an endless dance of fire
and tenderness.
Be his friend,
his confidant,
his mate,
and he will become everything you ever hoped for.
With his eyes,
he will softly tell you: "I love you."
"But he looks at other women," you say.
Who does he come home to?
Build his spirit; do not break him.
Even wandering eyes
will find their anchor in you.
Ask him gently, without fear:
"What is it you see? Her hips? Her hair? Her youth?"
Then smile and remind him,
with confidence and grace:
"I am all this and more.
My hips sway to the rhythm of ancient drums.
My hair gleams like the cosmos above.
And my soul burns with a fire no one else can tame."
When a man loves you,
truly loves you,
he will parade you like a rare treasure.
He will
bring you to see Mama,
presenting you
as the heartbeat of his soul.
He will dance with you
in the rains of Soweto,
laughter rising with every raindrop.
He will twirl you under the covers,
whispering words
so fervent
that the storms of Jupiter pale.
Every morning,
he will wake with joy and say:
"My love, my love, I adore you."
He will fry eggs and ham to nourish you,
and hum broken tunes to mend your soul.
His imperfect songs,
brimming with love,
will patch the cracks in your heart,
until your spirit soars with his.
Live your love—don’t just speak of it.
Show it in your laughter,
your touch,
your gaze.
Be his flame,
his calm,
his guiding star.
For when a man loves you,
truly loves you,
he will raise you to the heavens,
and your union will burn
brighter than constellations.
Together,
your love will become a dance,
a story so timeless,
even the stars will remember.
Copyright © Dr. Ivan Edwards | Year Posted 2025
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Dr. Ivan Edwards Poem
The red earth remembers my name,
whispers it in the dust that rises,
welcoming me home, not as I was,
but as I have become.
The streets hum, alive with rhythm,
voices colliding like rivers meeting,
the scent of Indian chai thick in the air,
folding memory into the morning breeze.
I return to a place both known and strange,
where past and present press against each other,
a city growing taller, reaching forward,
yet haunted by the echoes of what once stood.
Footsteps trace the roads of my childhood,
but the shade is gone,
trees felled, laughter softened,
the land shifting beneath me.
Still, I belong to this soil,
this pulse of Kampala,
where change marches onward,
but home still calls me by name.
Copyright © Dr. Ivan Edwards | Year Posted 2025
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Dr. Ivan Edwards Poem
This poem is featured on YouTube (The Convergence point with Dr. Ivan Edwards), bringing its words to life through spoken expression.
A gas station on the edge of the city,
Neon lights buzzing in the night,
graffiti scrawled across walls,
the hum of distant traffic our backdrop.
The place was nothing special,
oil-stained concrete and flickering signs.
But love has a way
of making the ordinary
extraordinary.
We stopped for gas,
or maybe
an excuse
to pause the drive.
And as music spilled
from the car radio,
we couldn’t resist.
We stepped out
into the urban glow,
sneakers scuffing
against the asphalt.
And right there,
between pumps and parked cars,
we danced.
Love found its stage,
transforming the ordinary
into a dreamscape.
And as the world blurred,
we held each other close.
Cheek to cheek,
we swayed—
slow and deliberate.
Every movement
a silent promise,
every touch
a spark.
The scent of gasoline
mingled with our breath.
Yet all we could feel
was the warmth
of passion.
Our fingers
clasped tightly,
as if letting go
might undo
the magic.
Bodies melting
into one rhythm,
hearts beating
in perfect harmony.
The city paused to watch—
the hum of traffic faded into the distance.
Strangers gathered,
drawn to our orbit.
Teens paused, their phones forgotten,
a crowd gathering,
their faces lit
by the glow
of LED streetlights.
Skateboarders froze mid-trick,
delivery bikes slowed to a stop.
Even the gas station clerk leaned out
to catch the scene.
Above us, stars dimmed their light,
yielding to the glow between us.
Angels paused in flight,
holding their breath for love’s quiet power.
While skyscrapers and streetlights
formed a shimmering backdrop
to the dance
that turned
grit into gold.
We danced slow,
as though time was ours to command,
swaying to melodies
etched deep into our souls.
Cheek to cheek, hands entwined,
we stood unshaken, unstoppable—
A fleeting moment
made eternal
by the strength
of our love.
The gas station, no longer mundane,
became sacred ground.
Marked forever by the dance of two lovers—
slow, deliberate, deeply in love,
turning the night into poetry.
The city kept watching
as the song we danced to came to a close.
Above,
skyscrapers stood
like silent giants,
and streetlamps flickered
in rhythm with the beat.
The stars fought to shine through
the haze of city lights.
But their brilliance bowed
To the raw energy
of our moment.
We danced like we owned the night,
like nothing else mattered.
No smog,
no sirens,
no chaos,
Just the music and us.
Love erupted
like a beat drop,
electric,
unfiltered,
unstoppable,
turning a gas station
into a stage,
The urban jungle
into our temple.
The crowd cheered as the melody faded,
And we stood breathless,
hand in hand,
forever imprinted
in the city’s memory.
Two lovers
who danced at the gas station,
turning
grit into gold
And the
mundane into magic.
Copyright © Dr. Ivan Edwards | Year Posted 2025
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Dr. Ivan Edwards Poem
This poem is featured in Dr. Ivan Edwards' upcoming anthology, Resonance of the Soul: Flowers and Harmonics, published by IEME LLC. The book will be available in e-book, softcover, and hardcover formats upon release. Available on YouTube.
Healing - A tribute to those who battle mental health
The journey to wholeness: Reflections on mending wounds, overcoming pain, and embracing the resilience of the human spirit.
"I am learned, forged in Makerere’s halls of light,
Crowned with knowledge, armed with might."
Yet the doctor, calm as an evening tide,
Meets my tempest with quiet eyes.
The snake stirs, restless within my mind,
Its coils are my fears, its venom unkind.
It lashes, it strikes, a desperate display,
Yet the doctor does not flinch nor sway.
Unyielding he stands, like a mountain in repose,
Perhaps fortified by Waragi, calm in its throes.
Simanyi (I don’t know), but the doctor looks cold,
Distant, like the Virunga Mountains of Rwanda, bold.
At home, my husband paces, silent and torn,
His patience worn thin, his love forlorn.
"What has happened to you?" he says with a sigh,
And I lash back with venom, though I don’t know why.
The snake feeds on the anger, his doubt,
And our marriage flickers, its flame burning out.
My children stare, their eyes wide with fear,
Their laughter fades, their joy unclear.
"Mama, why don’t you smile?" they cry,
But I can’t reach them, no matter how I try.
Their hugs feel foreign, their voices dim,
I retreat into shadows, the light growing slim.
At school, among peers,
I stand alone,
A scholar of renown, yet cold as stone.
Whispers trail me, cutting and sharp,
"Her brilliance dims beneath her mental harp."
The piper’s tune hides the chaos inside,
But their judging eyes pierce through my guise.
My parents call, their voices a tether,
But their advice feels distant, fading like weather.
"Focus, child," they urge, their tone so firm,
"Your future is bright; your path must affirm."
But their love feels like an echo, a haze,
While the snake coils tighter, consuming my days.
At the doctor's again, I leap akin to the Ugandan agama,
Twisting, alive, defying the encroaching drama.
But his steady gaze, his unshaken calm,
Meets my storm without alarm.
He hands me pills, as steady as the Nile,
"Take these," he says, with neither scorn nor guile.
Not even a flicker—this doctor is like an assassin,
Slaying serpents with precision, no compassion.
I resist at first; pride erects a wall,
But the snake hisses louder, and I start to fall.
The bitterness lingers as I swallow my fate,
Hoping the pills can silence the weight.
The serpent writhes, furious at being contained,
Its venom subdued, its power constrained.
At home, my husband watches, his tone softens slight,
Yet trust feels fragile, like glass in twilight.
My children’s laughter returns, though faint,
But guilt stains my heart;
I’m no saint.
Their small hands reach, their warmth starts to glow,
But the shadow of the serpent lingers below.
At school, the whispers soften, nods replace sneers,
Peers begin to see beyond the chaos of years.
Makerere’s scholar, once lost in despair,
Now rises with strength, her spirit repaired.
The doctor’s steady care, a beacon in my haze,
Guides me gently through life’s tangled maze.
The serpent weakens, its voice retreats,
The piper’s song fades, its melody incomplete.
The doctor seems to grow roots in my head,
I give him more space, where the snake once fed.
A month later,
I stand here anew,
The snake lies dead, its shadow subdued.
The piper has wandered, his tune now gone,
And I walk forward, my healing begun.
"You seem different," I tell the doctor, "Are you the same who began this chapter?"
"Yes," he replies, with a smile so vast,
It could tame Ngorongoro’s lions, steadfast.
"I have not changed, but your sight has shifted, the fog in your heart has finally lifted."
Ah, Makerere’s student finally sees,
The tempest silenced, replaced by peace.
No longer bound by the snake or its song,
I rebuild the bonds that I’d broken so long.
It is slow but steady, kind and sweet,
I see it,
I taste it, this life complete.
A wife with hope, a mother with light,
A scholar renewed, standing upright.
The doctor’s work, a silent grace,
Has returned me to a brighter place.
A place I always yearned to inhabit,
Where the heart sings and the feet dance in freedom’s orbit.
Copyright © Dr. Ivan Edwards | Year Posted 2025
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Dr. Ivan Edwards Poem
She says she loves me—yet dreams of another,
her heart adrift on restless tides,
where my name dissolves into echoes,
a whisper lost before breath takes hold.
I am broken.
I see her alone within my marrow,
etched into the walls of my being.
But she sees him,
an apparition of longing,
a mirage flickering in the heat of her wanting.
I am splintered.
I stand despised,
a footnote in love’s forgotten song,
dust at the end of her shoe.
She speaks less of me,
more of him,
her words cascading
into devotion misplaced.
I am weary.
Love is cruel.
Love is uneven.
Love is an unfair wager placed on uncertain hands.
She lets me go,
and I drown in the silence of her absence.
I cry—not in anger, nor defiance,
but in the quiet ache of love unreturned.
I am bitter.
Yet fate is a wheel, turning,
grinding indifference into consequence.
Her dream-boy does not love her back.
His affection - a phantom,
a shadow slipping through her grasp,
a fleeting dream undone by truth.
Hope?
Hurt seizes her, sorrow bends her inward.
She falls into the refuge of my arms,
not radiant, not whole,
but shattered.
A storm broken against its own winds.
Better for me?
She weeps beneath the weight of regret,
for wounds unseen,
for love unkind,
for the folly of a heart misunderstood.
I do not say, I told you so.
I do not revel in her suffering.
I hold her as one holds fragile things.
Gently, patiently, without condition.
Opportunity?
But love is tested once more.
Fate does not loosen its grip so easily.
She falls—not into longing,
but into illness.
Her body bends, her spirit dims.
No blame?
Now, she is in my care.
The hands that once reached for another rest in mine.
Weak, trembling, searching.
I wipe fever from her brow,
whispering that love will not abandon her.
Redemption?
Time, merciful in its slowness,
unspools grief.
The tides retreat,
the wound unwinds.
She heals.
She remembers joy’s steady cadence.
Our love reborn.
Rebirth?
And so, we revive.
The world spins onward.
Caesars rise and fall,
diamonds freeze in brilliance,
lions roar against time,
dinosaurs crumble into dust.
Yet we remain.
Living, moving, rebuilding.
She loves.
She remembers.
Lessons etched into the marrow of her being.
We dance beneath skies that once turned away.
She transforms inexplicably,
a river finding its course,
a fish swimming steady against the current,
the hand of God shaping destiny,
one breath,
one heartbeat
at a time.
And now...
Love is unbridled,
a caress in the wind,
laughter in high staccato,
flowers blooming,
sky blue,
and the river we sail on is smooth and beautiful.
Love is now kind, sweet and gentle,
spirits one.
Copyright © Dr. Ivan Edwards | Year Posted 2025
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Dr. Ivan Edwards Poem
This poem is featured on YouTube (The Convergence point with Dr. Ivan Edwards), bringing its words to life through spoken expression.
Do not just hear—listen.
Let her voice settle in your bones, not as sound,
but as meaning,
as truth that lingers long after words fade.
When you listen,
she melts into devotion.
Look at her—truly see her.
Not just the gaze, but the depth beyond
the fire,
the quiet,
the storm,
the calm.
See the flicker behind her eyes,
the soul waiting to be held.
When you see her,
she thrones you as her king.
Know her—not just in passing,
but in essence.
What she loves,
what she detests,
what makes her spirit rise,
what softens her heart.
Let her words become music,
a rhythm only you can hear.
When you know her,
she will yearn for you.
Love her in the morning
when her hair is wild,
in the evening—
when beauty is raw,
unguarded,
real.
Love her beyond adornments,
beyond fleeting grace.
Love her whole,
love her unwaveringly.
Steady your eyes,
never waver,
hold her hand as you walk through time.
Sing to her—
not just melodies,
but the rhythm of life,
the song of love.
Cuddle close,
breathe as one,
read with her,
dream with her,
let love be more than a moment;
let it be presence,
unwavering,
eternal.
Touch not just her hand,
but her heart.
Heed the unspoken,
drink deep from her love.
When you love her,
she will love you to the bone,
dance lightly upon devotion’s edge,
bring warmth when the world is cold,
offer companionship unmatched,
unfaltering.
If you do all and more,
her soul will blossom in your hands,
and she will be yours . . .
not just for today,
but always.
Copyright © Dr. Ivan Edwards | Year Posted 2025
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