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Best Poems Written by Lewis Raynes

Below are the all-time best Lewis Raynes poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Lewis Raynes Poem

Fake Me Is Better Than Real Me

It’s odd how we all have a persona,
An image we’d like others to see.
My emotional clothing, my charm and charisma, 
It’s nice but it’s not really me.

The real me, my hinterland, the me of me, the “who” that I am,
Isn’t defined by any professions.
I’m not defined by my job, nor my house, nor my clothes.
I’m not defined by any possessions.

Possessions show that I’m cool, calm, I’m collected.
Always seeking a classy sort of style,
But on the inside the thoughts in my head go crazy, 
Like an untamed deranged juvenile.

Always overthinking random stuff of conversations I’ve had. 
Had years ago with my peers.
Thinking the best, then contemplating the worst, 
Battering myself with debilitating fears. 

I hide these fears behind fake actions, fake clothes, 
Fake talk and a fake phrase.
Convinced that a fake me is better than me, 
For now and the rest of always.


Entered into "Who ARE you?" contest by Catie Lindsey 4/30/2016 , ranked First place

Details | Lewis Raynes Poem

That Truth In My Mind

When it’s quiet, I’m alone and nobody can see, 
I withdraw to the world I invent,
Where my thoughts are my own, nobody will judge,
And I breathe my own little lament.

I’m safe on this raft, this raft of my truth, 
My truth where I’m no longer blind.
Where everything’s real, as real as the wind, 
The wind blowing around in my mind.

My eyes are shut tight, all entry is locked, 
My ears only hear the silence of dry,
And my mind wonders, to the edge of the world, 
And tiptoes on the clouds in the sky.

I love when it’s quiet and I’m alone in my head,
And I can love all there is in my heart,
And appreciate all that I ever will be, 
And exist in an imagination of art.

Details | Lewis Raynes Poem

She Loves Jewellery

She has a collection, an unusual collection, 
Of four thousand and forty two,
Colourful, shapely, dangly rings, 
From green to gold to blue,

That she wears from ears, her nose, her lips, 
The ones that are on show,
And she wears a heap in other places, 
But there I will not go,

Her arms both glitter, her legs glisten, 
Her neck’s a twinkle on display,
She’s a shiny beautiful colourful star, 
When she walks throughout the day,

From hoops, to drops, to barbell hugs, 
She loves wearing tiny rocks,
But no one can actually see her now, 
She’s become a walking jewellery box.

Details | Lewis Raynes Poem

Domestic Abuse

Under layers of pain wrapped in the hurt, 
Under betrayal hidden from sight,
Pinned to her heart that’s broken and black, 
Pinned to a feeling of spite,

She walks and stumbles and falls to the ground, 
Naked she’s dazed, she’s stunned,
But her body no longer feels anything, 
Her body’s emotionally numbed,

From all of the years of walk the thin line, 
Domestically handcuffed to this beast,
Her mind was a toy for his psychotic games, 
A game where her mind was the feast,

Now all she does is stumble and fall, 
Bleeding her mental farewell,
Existing in a tragic life that has gone, 
Living a life full of hell.

Details | Lewis Raynes Poem

This Beautiful Fleeting Moment

Dear moment, this moment, this small little moment,
Do you know how important you are?
Do you know how you’re a part of me, moment,
How you’re the biggest moment by far?

You’re my big little moment, in this moment of time,
You’re the best little moment to find,
And I wish we could chat but I see that you’ve gone,
Disappeared to the back of my mind.



25th April 2017, never submitted in any contest, except this for Silent One :)
Awarded a 1st

Details | Lewis Raynes Poem

Technology and a Broken Heart

A rag of a paper from a lifetime that's gone,
Replaced by a small microchip.
The feel of those words in the palm of your hands,
That the ends of your fingers would grip.

And the hands of a surgeon juggling his craft,
Or the journalist reporting the news.
All replaced with perfect mechanical arms,
On an internet with millions of views.

Already we yearn for the art of the human,
Who'd do the best that he could with few fails.
Spinning their yarn with small human insights,
And yet covering all important details.

And the car indicator you pushed to turn off,
Or the window you wound to pull down.
We miss the old life of being involved,
When computers didn't run the whole town.

Details | Lewis Raynes Poem

Birth Control

Oh beautiful birth control, how wonderful you play, 
You bring so much joy to my life.
You’re like my religion, I can embrace everyone, 
Especially my neighbour’s blonde wife.

Every morning after, I fall, fall from grace off my bed, 
Fall right onto my knees and pray.
I pray to you, my birth control friend, 
No kids spawned from me, not from this castaway.

Oh my beautiful birth control, I love you so much,
I love how you conquer from her trench.
Now, I need to prepare for tonight’s sexy battle, 
I need to clean, and remake, my nightly workbench.

Details | Lewis Raynes Poem

Holding Hands With the Devil

What’s in her mind, sharp lines slice her in half, 
Into faded dark red, green and blue,
And the flowers cover up each emotional scar, 
From ever even shining on through,

To show the gouges ripped from her thoughts, 
To show the bruised, shaken, and torn,
Slit while she slept, in a nightmare of hell, 
For her public body to remain an unborn?

What does she think, where does she go, 
When her eyes are wide open to black,
When her eyes are blank to all of the noise, 
After her soul escaped the attack?

Does she remember those days that’ve gone, 
When she obeyed every little demand?
Does she remember those days when she sold her soul,
Just to hold onto his hand?

Details | Lewis Raynes Poem

Dreams of What May Have Been

I’d love to sit on a big leather chair,
And smoke a fat Cuban cigar.
And own a Monet,
And a little chalet,
And drive a red hot Jaguar.

But, alas, here I sit on an old wooden bench,
Sucking a ciggy filled with tar.
And my art's on a doormat,
In a cheap council flat,
And I drive an old rusted car.

Details | Lewis Raynes Poem

She Loves and Needs Seven

I know her routine, she told me today, 
I know what lives in her soul,
I know her small quirk, that she thinks of the most, 
I know what keeps her mind whole,

You see, she lives by the seven, she loves how it’s prime, 
It’s more than a number to sum, 
Its power is when her darkness has fallen,
Where her mind can count like a drum,

One to three to the five, six and seven, 
Her mantra beats loud in her black,
Beats regular and defiant, against all the odds, 
When her mind is under attack.

Her secret is a thought that keeps her mind sane,
Her secret’s her defence in the night,
Her secret is the special power of seven, 
When her mind is stuck in a fight.


This is not a new poem however was written on a whim and has never been entered into a contest, i think ot suits your contest. :)