Voices
Voices
by June Ellen Smith
Tiny voices in the nighttime rhyming with
Tiny hands, expanding into bigger ones,
Sucking thumbs and fingers. Ringers on
A pole - horseshoes. Tie shoes for tiny feet.
Defeat the tiny voices in my head when
I go to bed and wake up with the voices.
Choices are my destiny not to hear voices.
Booming voices filled my head of yesteryear
And gave me fear. Dearly departed now.
Mother's voice sang to my sweetly.
Birds tweet and frogs croak. Voices spoke
To me from above with lovely angels soaking
My soul. Golden chariots will carry me to
The voices I feel, so real to me today as
Well as yesterday. Yesteryear had no fear
It's all really going to happen in this year
When my quiet voice sings on a higher gear.
I find the kindness of strangers is really
Imagine the glory. The stories of voices in
The nights are not without the fight of hearing voices
Glory be to God and Jesus, my Savior on high.
Why do I pray? So I can say and savor why.
Swing low, sweet chariot and take me high.
In heaven I'll hear the angels voices cry.
Larks sing. Bells ring. Voices in the dark
Spark the fires of desires to be bold. Cold
Voices, warm voices, dreary voices - Old
Hear the voices shout out - Win! No sin in
Sin City where the voices have been home.
Where I roam now for seventeen years.
Rejoice in the voice which is mine in kind.
Mankind has a voice too with their own love.
Cat's meow, dog's paw - it's a voice of love.
from above all is God's voice. I feel it spit.
Otherwise I wouldn't be here to fear Him.
Hymns are for His voice. It's a choice.
Psalms came from voices of olden times.
I say my voice in grace for food or to win.
I'm a sinner, a winner and a whiner.
It's time for rhyme and prose for those
Who sign the deaf ear. Born to be me,
I hope I continue to hear the voices nearly
Close to my aching heart and aching back.
Lack the ability to utilize misers who slack.
Click, clack, quack. Voices of lucky ducks in
A row. Grow a garden. Hear the bargain call.
Hear the Bingo callers of the bingo balls call.
Call to the mountain top - Voices will hear
You play your piano voice on a piano by ear.
It's sad my dear if you don't let the world hear.
World's end will come on high, don't sigh.
Angels will sing on harps, sharps and flats.
That's what the good book says. I say it's so.
Swing low, oh my sweet chariot, so I can go.
God grace is upon my face, so I'll face it slow.
God's voice.
Copyright © June Ellen Smith | Year Posted 2010
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