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Best Voice Poems

Below are the all-time best Voice poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of voice poems written by PoetrySoup members

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Don't stop! The most popular and best Voice poems are below this new poems list.

Beeps, Buttons and Voice by Makama, Funom
HEAVENS VOICE by Trifiatis, Demetrios
MY ANGEL'S VOICE by Viguri, Diana
The Voice by Salehi, Pashang
Trump's Voice and Its Tone by Horn, James
HEAR MY VOICE by Verma, Satish
In response to the voice by One, Silent
I hear a voice by Schindler , venita
THE VOICE OF GOD by Gruhn, Robert William
The Voice of the Susquehanna by Carter, Daniel

View all new Voice Poems

The Best Voice Poems

Details | Voice Poem | |

Midnight Poet

Whisper's of October  

Whispers in this soup bowl
20 minutes after its muse explodes,
Daylight remains nothing more than a dream 
Avoiding the howling sound in mid-September's stream
Writing about a ginger light,
  found in the depths of everything
Taking from the sitting twilight, numb, tranquilized 
Exposing and expressing the emotions found inside
An attic lost in the Ancient sky  ---awaits 

A poetic hand is formed ---reaching out
In the hiss of darkness, 
Listen-in,  the echoes of October are calling
A halo, that reconciles a mysterious monarch moon
A mono grip in which summons a deep voice
  of sweet serenity
Poets posting poems along the midnight page
Each poet can write a poem and mimic free fallen verses,
One might  call it a creative craving curse,
Webmaster's whose words speak for themselves
Voiceless-
They feel, and spills the will of idolized ink,
Blind-handed, splitting day from night

Warm whispers, needing no food to consume
Migraines of ink, feeding the soul
Burning Pages, overused pens
They've forgotten the pretty flowers
Living like lions, who never comes out of their dens
Murmuring and devouring, the enigmas of the unknown 
Eyes behind a sieve, close tighter than before, 
They hide-
A globe created from every sky-scrape wall
Wanting to belong, a trick -or- treat*er in disguise 
No friends, everything is pretend
These poets can’t be described, can't be trusted
They are the best, at what they do
For all you know this poet might be me, 
This poet might be you

By: PD

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014


Details | Voice Poem | |

The Age of Poet Destroyer

A diamond in the Frost ... I am Emily, gazing through the years, 
Like Poe from rancid taste and dark smoke shadows
Florescent waste escaping a decrepit yet dulcet wilderness
Backward capabilities frontal verse, I am her the almighty universe 

Ascending from yesterday's fall, literally and visibly
Swore to be everything you loathe most - a felicity of illusions
You will dream of me, a parasite you can't get rid of
Ripped open by paper and pen, rising to a new destination
A Destroyer begging to be free in search of a tender rhapsody
Blind by mediocre poets who tend a false nebulous star
No longer, will I impart into defeat - give in to trophy trust
The time of age, my allies whom I call my friends 
You are more than words on any God-Given-Day

To those unworthy of me, can march away from my parade 
Crying wolves, backstabbing clones, long gone stones
Each file is forgiven & forgotten, however, still trespassing 
Under a microscope, some remain to be a decade of lost words 
Grazing a forest grown for old news dripping water on my belly

No matter, after starvation, I found my way back to the same horizon
Finding time and space among a new docile nation
A buried treasure finding face among a fresh myriad generation
With anchors up, I'm headed full force, against every secret endorsed

I am the one you should not fear, I relish this wonderful community
I am she mounted above all years worn rising like a newborn sword 
Forged by the earth summon by the pirate's moon political creed
Ascending to a sweet ascension with the best kind of immunity
With paper and pen, I sit to please and prosper my poetry need
To you I leave --- Echoes of snow, numbing you with a poetic soul 

Love The Poet Destroyer

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015


Details | Voice Poem | |

As the Sun Rises

From out of the smoke we will rise
The weight of these chains we will break
From his face we will rip the deceitful guise
The spirit of our brothers and sisters we will wake

My blood flows free yet I do not weaken
My feet clothed in blisters yet I feel no pain
For my children’s lives I will not bargain
Though my anger burns my calm will remain

From beneath his foot our people we will remove
The hate he has implanted we will unbind with fire
The lies he  feeds  the blind  we will disprove
We will watch him drown in desperation’s mire

With only a stance we will shake every plain
With only a look we shine with the force of the sun
My feet clothed in blisters yet I feel no pain
My blood flowing free yet I will not weaken
 

~FJ Thomas
….we are not of only one race in this family

Copyright © FJ Thomas | Year Posted 2015


Details | Voice Poem | |

Sheol

Dark Knight-tress 

Underneath 
This gown I feel nothing
Silk less feelings
The odor of intimate apparel lessens 
Vanity fare from any sun
Warrior of beauty
Where have you gone?
A fortress of gloom
Not even death wants in
Black nail tips
Brownish plum lips

I close my eyes 
I see them all
The Shadows
Climbing over my soul
The darken deepens 
The stars dim my view
Irremovable makeup
Land becomes an enemy
I become
The Dark Knight-tress
Scolding my next victim

~S~

Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2013


Details | Voice Poem | |

VOICE IN HIDING



Hiding here inside my closet, I feel safe in the dark knowing on a pile of sheets lies my very psyche; it's only a thought, yet I am unhurt among drawers… so I curl and stare blank, imbibing bits of gentle murmurings that whisper on hangers as they sway with the lint...I strain to listen but prickly voices rush out of reach from the sleeves of a night like a conversation behind closed doors… I hear yet can't quite grasp what my heart wants to say in low dips ; like a tremolo carrying mould of twilight... it chants all sermons of a Sunday church bell speaking in tongues I knew once...long ago. The moon slices the folds around me in black suds washing a laundry of venting desire, only to find myself trapped in pins…I feel a stab, a grating chill: perhaps, I have no language when no one wants to listen.
Favorite Contest of Casarah Nance Posted 1/27/2014

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2014


Details | Voice Poem | |

A tribute to Leonora G

~ Yolanda was--her name ~    Featuring:) Leonora Galinta

From a hell storm,
A mighty she-devil took on its form
Like a woman scorn ascending from the sea
Haiyan whipped across the central Philippines,
A deadly typhoon, maximum winds of around 315 
Terrorizing the fragile mind before making landfall
Hitting with the center eye off from her hostility 
A merciless turbulence that came and changed everything

Like a Massive Storm  
She comes in as the wise thief of the day and night, 
In her notorious gust of rage roars in disguise of thunder, 
With the company of her own knight of darkness, 
Raze all in a blast of waves wherever her path crosses, 
Ruining one of the cities down to a devastation in the land
“Pearl of the Orient Seas.” 

A mighty tempest in a woman’s name…. Yet, 
A disgrace with more than an immortal man in strength, 
Nature devouring nature itself 
Including her stewards and stewardesses
An unmerciful encroachment, robbing, killing adults and children. 

Yolanda, so cruel in her evil walloping!
A guest left smiling,
Engraving echoes of tears, from every single mourn
Vain, wicked, and colorless -no other air’s compare 
The lives she stole, one heart at a time
Pouring down the most nauseating rain, 
The pain is dissenting with everyone-- everywhere.
The bully of wind, invading sands of serenity

Unknowingly, far beyond your back----------------------------
Everybody will be summoning up more than your strength- 


:)

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013


Details | Voice Poem | |

In The Flesh

Introducing: Casarah Nance & Poet Destroyer

Scars of empty promises are darkened by your kiss.
Torturous touches are meant to soothe my pain.
It is without gain, without pleasure, beyond measure,
You are the puppet master, strung on dark days, a haze.
Specter of solitude, you confine me with your magnitude,
What purpose do I serve, is slavery what I deserve?
Tell me your intention, sate me with your perfection.
Shed a light into this soul starved sanctuary,
Come, whisper your words in my ear, complete me…

       A sweet surrender to your call, a will of solitude
       I lead the way, cutting strings attached to the light
       Touching every breathing strand stressing yesterday
       Giving you room to fall into my designated despair,
       Adding, to your creeping gloom, I give and lend pouring pain,
       the kind of pain, that begs for blades
       Abhorring the taste of life, your flesh empowers my darkness
       My intentions are nothing more, than a shadow bearing strength,
       Smiling at your tears, caressing your lips,
       Taking from the closure your soul seeks tonight
       Blind! You will become to the misery, in this barren place
       The pain of rigor mortise will blend against your pale skin
       A slave without shackles,
       I concur with pleasure to feed the hunger, you give
       Forever, I am DARKNESS

~A Poet Destroyer collaboration~

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015


Details | Voice Poem | |

GRANDPA

*GRANDMA WAITS IN THE GARDEN*

Hi, grandpa, it's me again!
Your dentures sit in an open glass above the nightstand
Remember the tears grandma sang before she passed?
The way she looked into your eyes, 
Moments before she said her goodbyes
Grandpa, I found a note from grandma, 
She waits for you.

Hi grandpa, it’s me again!
The rocking chair is old and dusty
Remember the way grandma sat me on her lap?
Read many stories before I took a nap
How she enjoyed stroking my hair with her hands
I miss the way she rocked me to sleep every night 

Hello, grandpa!
I stored your hearing aid away
Remember that special musical box in grandma's drawer? 
I opened it last night, to watch the ballerina soar
I wish you could hear the tiny chimes grandma loved
I hope you don’t mind, I’m keeping grandma's favorite scarf

Hello, Grandpa!
I'm caressing grandma’s picture frame
Remember the way she looked in the yellow pretty sundress?
Grandpa, I miss the things grandmother did for you
Like the walking cane, she handcrafted before she left

Hello, grandpa, it's me again! 
Here I sit holding your hand
I have no more tears
Soon you will see her again
She will no longer be alone
Say hi to her, give her a kiss
Tell her I miss her so much
Bye, grandpa

~*~

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013


Details | Voice Poem | |

Twas A Full Moon Shining - Collab

Twas a full moon shining on a cool summer night And hound dogs were howling at its silver shadowed light. I heard but a whisper on the cool evening breeze, Twas the voice of a woman I used to chase and tease. Our love was forever, at least I used to think it so. Then came the day she left me; I wondered, where’d she go? If true love lasts forever, was this love not for me? I heard an answer on the wind - Son, your true love is she. A true love will always linger in the shadows of your heart Even when the one you love has chosen to depart. True love is the love you gave, no matter what the cost It will return to you again, for it is never lost. Like a full moon shining on a cool summer night With placid waters glistening in its silver shadowed light Love comes like a whisper on a cool evening breeze A gentle touch, a soft caress, a rustle in the trees. There is no bitterness in the past, if your love was true The sweetness in the memory is true love’s gift to you A rising sun or new full moon is not a memory And so will love come once again, if you let it be. Twas a full moon shining on a cool summer night And hound dogs were howling at its silver shadowed light I heard but a whisper on the cool evening breeze, Twas the voice of love’s song...answering my pleas.
11-17-12 *An excellent collab,with John Wulf & Dan Kearley*

Copyright © Dan Kearley | Year Posted 2012


Details | Voice Poem | |

My day as a woman

When I awoke, a woman I'd become
The spirit of many, contained in one
Strength and beauty, mystical tears
Magical entity, who hated mirrors

Looking at reflection, I seen my flaws
Yet in the background, I heard applause 
Others seen me, with much different eyes
I listened too their voices, discarded my lies

The blood of creation, flowing in my veins
A brave warrior, a vision with brains
Nurture and strength, complicated friend
Passion personified, a master of pretend

Layers of lovely, deeper than a well
If you love me, I have a secret to tell
Loyal and fierce, sometimes hiding my face
Push me to far, I'll be gone without a trace

My day has ended, time to go to bed
Still words unspoken need to be said
Yet in the end I turn back into a man
Enriched by women, I am who I am

For Women Only Contest 2
By: Richard Lamoureux 
Perhaps you will allow me to be an honorary woman 
Either way I enjoyed writing this poem. Thanks for the inspiration.

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2014


Details | Voice Poem | |

A Woman From God

A Woman from God

I do not cover my eyes because God gave me sight; just as he did man
I do not cover my face because God made the sun to shine on it; just as it does man
I do not hold my voice because God made it beautiful; just as he did man
I do not hold my thoughts because God gave me sense; just as he did some men
He gave me a mind that I may know one day I will see a better place than this
…that I might hold on to the hope of living where life is no longer ruled by the arrogance of man

He told me I was a complement; that I balance the one for whom I was made.
….because I too was made in His image.

                                                             ~FJ Thomas

Copyright © FJ Thomas | Year Posted 2015


Details | Voice Poem | |

Security Blanket

Security Blanket 

No chance of rain tonight,
No bogeyman, when I turn off the lights.
A phrase I found and adore with the warmth of your security.
You are the reason I attain true maturity.

I love when you lay down next to me,
Like the high tide of the sea,
You move all the warm emotions inside.
My arms are the comfort you use to seek and hide.

Your nestle holds a true rhythm that hums its own song~
Nothing comes close to breaking this precious bond~
A sweet cradle-song only I hear,
You play my grin, without the strings of a puppeteer.

My heartbeat needs its fix and drug,
Your sweet, charming smiles and hug, 
Is all I need to succeed, 
You are, my only creed!

A kiss, I give on your forehead,
Into a poet’s world where your blanket a dulcet lullaby, 
my arms are your bed.

“Goodnight Sweet Child, Sweet Child of Mine!”

By; pd

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013


Details | Voice Poem | |

FINALLY

Finally 

Doctor, it's been 7 months 
The MEDs aren't kicking in

My dreams are getting stronger, 
The blood remains to run code red
It's getting harder and harder to get out of bed 
Dark images keep taking place inside my head 
The voices - The voices, are not all right!

I no longer lay laughing 
The screaming never stops
In irons,  my mind rattles 
Theses thoughts are all I got
In slow motion, my mind plans the perfect plot

Finally, I realize the sanity of this is perfect
Counting every single second on the clock 
At first, I could not breathe 
I felt, I was left alone, 
Broken down --- Incomplete  
In your eyes, the schizophrenia spoke loud
In my eyes, everything is dark and gray

Doctor, now listen closely, open your eyes
While the walls slowly close in on you
I have my hands around your neck
Finally, I feel my arms, the needles are gone

Finally, I realize the sanity of this is perfect
The tightening of the chest is clearing
Today I possess a little more than yesterday 
Knowing exactly what needs to be done.

DOC YOU AREN'T LISTENING!
Was it all for nothing, the bloody wrist?
The faucet constantly dripping every night
The voices I call my friends

Deep, deep down,  
I'm still a child, painting  bedroom walls
Setting fires after my mother's death 
A crazy peril in its most threatening state

Doc, here you are again,
No longer will I allow you to waste my time
With your fetish lies, trying to make me better 
The problem is not me, it was always you!
Painting pink butterflies and white skies

Finally, I realize the sanity of this is perfect
Don't you understand  she's dead!
Pills aren't going to bring her back 
Padded rooms aren't going to help me,
Help myself --- grieve  the proper  way!
Straitjackets aren't going to restrain me, 
--- from wanting to hurt badly!
Psychologically, I'm perfectly sane 
Expressing my emotions a different way.

Doctor, you're not saying nothing 
You're not moving, 
You're just sitting there pretending to care.
Doc, I hope you aren't mad?
The voices explained it had to end this way
How else could I make you listen?

Finally, the impulse is gone 
Finally, I'm going to be alright 

       by: Pd

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015


Details | Voice Poem | |

Mermaid's Milk: a collaboration with the still dashing David Williams

The moss clung tightly; making it unbearable to breathe, 
and she sealed her lips tighter than a clam’s— not letting the pain take over

As the stars drift silently, like ships on a lost sea of darkness,
she whispers to Hope: 
“Swim free and look for the horizon, then come back to me...”

The night; collected on the leaves, 
       drops fell like Mermaid’s milk onto an already moist floor
Striking the shimmering tearful medium, 
         it gives birth to a shower of graceful pearls as the dawn awaits

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hear your voice drift upon a cool ocean breeze; 
              gilded words of adoration 
I glide towards it, praying that it guides me, 
          strengthens me, 
                nurtures me 
  like Mermaid’s milk

Touch as I might, my senses are in-different to please, my voice mute!
Be my Siren’s song and sing for me, serenade my senses back to life...

With an inquisitive tongue, I taste an almost scentless flower 
It is but a wisp, a whisper, a flick of a ray of sunshine, but it was There.

So much is lost. 
    The rivulets of time, hear me, see me, like a ghostly apparition...
Capture me in that moment by lovingly painting me. 
Sing me a song while you do, 
            and let the Mermaid’s milk flow again.




*****
Thank you David, for waiting ever so patiently for my long overdue part-- 
it was a very nice challenge for me to write this :) 
Thank you very much for the inspiring lines...

Copyright © binibining P.oiNkk | Year Posted 2012


Details | Voice Poem | |

Play It

Play It

You were afraid in the beginning.
You were excited and filled with anticipation. 
But, afraid.
Just holding her in your hands was a strange experience.
Awkward, like a first kiss.
Unsure of where and how to touch.
Just how should your lips
Meet her cold and unfamiliar mouth piece?
Remember those first few notes
Screeching through space inside the band hall?
A sacred place where rhythm and note
Have coursed the air and touched 
The smallest bones of the human body
With the softest and most pleasant caress.

Become familiar with the way she feels.
Close your eyes and feel the softness of her curves.
Treat her like a lady of royal blood.
Her father has given you her hand.
There is no leaving her at the altar.
You will decide your life together.
Love her. Caress her. Kiss her softly.
Learn to move your fingers and listen to her reply.
The early sound of surprise becomes the sound of love.
Soon, you breathe as one, and the voice you hear,
The voice we hear.
Is not hers. Is not yours. But, the union of both.
And what we hear is the birth of something
Grand and glorious and beautiful!

Play it!
 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t4C4YU5JtIo   

Copyright © Ray Dillard | Year Posted 2010


Details | Voice Poem | |

The Voice

He is the voice inside your heart
the one that makes you care
the voice that cries at injustices
when life becomes unfair

He is compassion deep within
that stirs and makes you feel
the hurt and pain and helplessness
of the suffering and grieved

He is your comfort in sadness felt
when you try to understand
the senseless emphasis on things
of insignificance to man

He is the love no one can cloak
the tears of joy you shed
the water that connects the souls
of both the living and the dead

He is the force that shielded you
that kept you safe from falling
the guide that won't leave you alone
until you hear his voice that's calling

The voice that says he's engraved inside
your heart and soul and mind
and he'll bring to you remembrances
if you but want to seek, you'll find

He is the voice you know exists
healing wounds of your life's story
The voice determined that you win
And be partaker of his glory

He is the peace who ends despair
the truth in you for cause to say
"My God! My God! I know you're here
for you shine to light the way

and blood once shed has cleansed my sins
my aged old mind has been set free
Father, I do glorify thy name
for grace that reconciles through Christ in me"

And thus it is, the voice of hope
that enables you to stand
His reach is to the very core
His wisdom..the rebirth of the soul of man..

Copyright © Diana Mohammed | Year Posted 2012


Details | Voice Poem | |

Hearts and Solitaire

The deck of cards
Flies away in the wind
Leaving those alone
Playing solitaire

I see the pain written on faces
I feel humanities disgraces
I can not play this lonely game
I run and hide from solitary fame

In the window, you see me over there?
I am not cold or in despair
I have a meal and more to spare
I hide from musical encounters, beggars too

I feel such pain
I feel the tears
Of that lonely man
He with no teeth, in sleet and rain

Me even worse off, heartless and slain






Solitaire is indeed a lonely game

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016


Details | Voice Poem | |

Cracking as Broken Toys

Picking up my phone, the voice recalls my memories
Sweet talker across the line, hey... it's been a while
Days running, things change, here we are aloof in our boundaries

Trapped within our history, now we play the role of our guile 
The way you speak is like negating the past
Sweet talker across the line, hey... it's been a while

Hurting each other became the story of our last
The lampblack dwell beneath the wounds, torn by the pain that we cost
The way you speak is like negating the past

We tired in our drama, we trapped in our anger loft
Burnt by the old grudge, how can we fix this dust?
The lampblack dwell beneath the wounds, torn by the pain that we cost

Standing limp on the ruin of us
Now we are broken toys if you still want to play, it's up to you
Burnt by the old grudge, how can we fix this dust?

Still in the past memory I flew
Now we are broken toys if you still want to play, it's up to you
Picking  up my phone, the voice recalls my memories
Days running, things change, here we are aloof in our boundaries

Copyright © Yanny Widjanarko | Year Posted 2013


Details | Voice Poem | |

The Storm

A cold wind blows,
turning hardened walls to sand.
Breaking down the barriers
exposing the emotions that were held inside.

The pain builds,
from hurts buried deep within.
Storm clouds roll in
dark, cold, and threatening.

Thunder rumbles,
roars across the darkened land.
A voice breaking the spirit:
Stupid
Ugly
Hated
Harlot
Die...
the words echo through the ears.

Lightning flashes,
shattering the very heavens.
Words drift through the mind:
Unwanted
Nothing
No-one
Useless
Alone...
casting shadows of doubt through the soul.

The tears fall from the eyes,
from a heart broken and battered.
Rain pours down from above
overflowing, unable to be contained.

Then finally as the rage is spent,
a calm stillness overtakes the cleansed world.
In the arms of a friend
peace is found once again.

And a voice whispers to the night:
"I'm alright..."

Copyright © Jennifer King | Year Posted 2010


Details | Voice Poem | |

The Voice

He is the voice inside your heart
the one that makes you care
the voice that cries at injustices
when life becomes unfair

He is compassion deep within
that stirs and makes you feel
the hurt and pain and helplessness
of the suffering and grieved

He is your comfort in sadness felt
when you try to understand
the senseless emphasis on things
of insignificance to man

He is the love no one can cloak
the tears of joy you shed
the water that connects the souls
of both the living and the dead

He is the force that shielded you 
that kept you safe from falling
the guide that won't leave you alone
until you hear his voice that's calling

The voice that says he's engraved inside
your heart and soul and mind
and he'll bring to you remembrances 
if you but want to seek, you'll find

He is the voice you know exists
healing wounds of your life's story
The voice determined that you win
And be partaker of his glory

He is the peace who ends despair
the truth in you for cause to say
"My God! My God! I know you're here
for you shine to light the way

and blood once shed has cleansed my sins
My aged old mind has been set free
Father I do glorify thy name
for grace that reconciles through Christ in me"

And thus it is..the voice of hope
that enables you to stand
His reach is to the very core
His wisdom..the rebirth of the soul of man...

Copyright © Diana Mohammed | Year Posted 2012


Details | Voice Poem | |

Your My Morning Song

Your eyes flame of fascination 
and I feel unworthy to be looked upon
by a goddess.  Then your lips twirl as your voice 
begins to play “Good Morning.” A beloved song, always  composing 
a smile to my mornings and reminding me that I’m truly blessed.  
After the record fades we lay comfortably in its evanescence.
Awaiting nothing, simply lost in the presence of love.  My fingers leisurely 
trace tender curves and turns of God’s greatest works as your warmth welcomes
me closer.  Your hands blindly search for mine and the fissures are filled as our hands 
fasten. Then your voice begins to play, “I Love You” and I repeat trying my best to
stay in tune.  We whisper acapella as our bodies begin to compose a beat through passion.
A tenor soprano duo at its best. You’re my favorite song.

Copyright © james faulkner | Year Posted 2009


Details | Voice Poem | |

Touch me

I am sitting in the dark, silently.
Sipping a drink as I did many times in the past.

Only now I am blushing, for my skin
has never been caressed with such deep voice before.

Those gentle vibes are dancing all over my body
and I cannot help but shiver.

Finally I surrender and let that sound please me.

Your warm whisper floating across the room
stops at my table and rests on my ears.

A muffled groan comes out of my mouth.

Suddenly I feel speechless, naked…
Covered only with your words,
which suit me perfectly.

The room is fulfilled with applause,
brighten by lights escaping through the window
as I walk away.

I left my glass slipper on the table
with a bitter- sweet lipstick mark on it.

Copyright © Danka Sikorska | Year Posted 2014


Details | Voice Poem | |

tribute five

"Please Allow Me to Speak for Him"
by:  Eric L. Boddie

Strength is boundless within his words
In the hearts of many, he should be heard
Lent me his pen one time in the past
Even his dark stuff reveals the awesome skill he has
Nothing can destroy a heart that's really pure
The Answer Is Christ, The Only Known Cure

Once He Arrives, everything makes sense
Nothing but his pen can get that intense
Each selection I have read makes me more appreciate what his pen invents

Copyright © eric boddie | Year Posted 2015


Details | Voice Poem | |

Fame

It took on a life of its own,
the writing.
Wanting a voice to speak
of the way it had been,
was and would be,
all the yesterdays,
the now and tomorrow.
Like nature,
like god eternal.
A voice so powerful
the world would listen
and talk of this writing.
The sublime craft of it
discussed by all
who knew such things.
But, in the end,
no one read that he was dead,
the writing ended,
the voice stilled
in a forever place ... and fame,
that fleeting human need ... ?
Words remembered, written on a page
with a life of their own, its all
the lasting fame ever known.

Copyright © Sue Mason | Year Posted 2010


Details | Voice Poem | |

The Duck That Lost His Quack

The Duck That Lost His Quack


A Duck woke up late one day last week,
And all he could do was to squeak.
He looked everywhere and listened to different things, 
Even heard sounds all around, from pings to zings.

For example, he tried many gates, stairs, and barn doors,
Then went and stepped on cracks in nearby creaky floors.
He visited several witches, doctors and some were both,
They prescribed everything from lemons to ginger troth.

In his travels, he came across a quaint woodshop, 
Being so tired, he sat down with a solid plop.
A carpenter saw that the Duck was so very sad, 
From behind the counter, he came to help the lad.

After hearing of the tale of a missing sound,
The carpenter leapt up with a double bound.
He said, “From within is where it comes, 
Not outside, as most would sum.”

“I have made many instruments for music, 
And what you need is something acoustic.”
He brought out a short board with a nail, 
Then attached several metal strings to a pail.

The carpenter said, “Play away and listen to the sounds in your head.”
The Duck strummed everything from Enya to the Grateful Dead.
After a fashion, the Duck was soon lost in the tunes,
And started to dance and sing like a midnight Lune.

Who knew that this Duck had a knack,
And in the middle of it all started to quack.
So you see, it’s not external to what you seek,
In many cases, its internal and who you meet.



Written by Michael Eastman, 8-25-2015,

This, after listening to Bubbles the Mouse speak,
And hearing a long story composed of squeaks.

Copyright © Michael Eastman | Year Posted 2015