Best Voices Poems
With a sigh summer citrine sky turned green
spontaneously into existence.
Autumn's palette adds changes and are seen
to its systematic experience.
Stars shiver in fear on the coldest night.
Voices in the darkness look for refuge;
heaven bound birds gather in distant flight
sailing through winds dusty powdered steel rouge.
The long day is dead; voices won't let me sleep.
Hush. Hush. The voices echo in emptiness.
Whiff of sandalwood lost in shadows deep.
The voices know my loneliness, the nothingness.
Amber encroaches the dawning of morning fight
through window curtains the whitest lace of light.
I see things in my dreams
Aliens then screams
Government, terrorists, spies
Ghosts, ghouls, monsters, lies
They are coming in my sleep
I can’t scream, not a peep
Fireants in my brain
My voices make it plain
Life isn’t as it seems
I ain’t gonna lie
I got problems
Don’t deny
Should be locked up
Outta my mind
I know I’m crazy
But maybe that’s just me
Don’t judge me by the outside
See inside I’m terrified
Locked my heart threw away the key
Locked it up so they can’t see
Its breaking loose
Can’t set it free
Can’t keep it close
Can’t let it be
I try to find my sanity
But somehow that’s just not me
My brain thinks differently
I ain’t gonna lie
I got problems
Don’t deny
Should be locked up
Outta my mind
I know I’m crazy
But maybe that’s just me
Don’t judge me by the outside
See inside I’m terrified
Others see a different world
Without the fear of dreams unfurled
Broken hearts, shattered screams
My insanity becomes a reality
That only I can see
My reality is the insanity
Deep inside of me
Until I set it free
I will never see with clarity
I ain’t gonna lie
I got problems
Don’t deny
Should be locked up
Outta my mind
I know I’m crazy
But maybe that’s just me
Don’t judge me by the outside
See inside I’m terrified
I just gotta set it free
I just gotta be me
The world wants me to hide
They just gotta realize
That I am truly crazy
And really that’s just me
I am finally set free
To find my sanity
In insanity
I ain’t gonna lie
I got problems
Don’t deny
Should be locked up
Outta my mind
I know I’m crazy
And I know that’s just me
Don’t judge me by the outside
See inside I’m finally alive
When cover of a book teases us to pry
Courted we're by sound of their voices:
Writers, creators, poets, and scholars--
Inviting us to virtues of wisdom inside.
If we can hear the sound of galleries
And the renaissance of cultural history
Wowed by music, sculptures, and paintings
We are attuned to the voices of artists.
When strings strum atop a music box
Cadence that moves us is voice of guitar,
Singer then bends the voice of lyrics
As we respond to the rhythm of music.
Emotions rile in disharmonious voices
Uttered by traffic, streets, and buildings
Contrasting soft tunes of rustling leaves
And whispered voices of whistling winds.
Voices are poems, feelings, and smiles
Tears and fears or trumpets of joy;
Sopranos singing of victories and defeats,
Agents of goodwill or messengers of cries.
December 3, 2018
Placed first in Voices poetry contest by Silent One
Placed first in February 2019, week 3 contest by Brian Strand
I hear voices
high in the trees,
trilling from the shrubs
and on the breeze.
I hear voices
high in the sky,
that grow and fade
and finally die.
A non-conducted chorus,
yet oh so sweet,
from a raucous warbling,
to a static tweet.
There’s a whistling pitch,
or a cackling cry -
I hear these voices
as I stroll on by.
I hear voices
that defeat my stress,
help me understand,
what matters less.
I hear voices,
that are sweet to hear,
with natures melodies,
pleasing to my ear.
Not a truck or a car;
not a bustling bar.
There’s no smog hidden star,
and no concrete or tar.
This here is their paradise;
no one hustles; no one lies,
for one to live, one often dies,
and all around me flies.
Where I hear voices
high in the trees,
trilling from the shrubs
and on the breeze.
I’m their audience,
with a host of choices,
when I amble by,
and I hear their voices.
So tell me do you hear
Those voices whispering in your ear?
Do they help you to think clear?
Or do they lead you astray?
Do they tell you things you need to know?
Do they cheer you up when you’re feeling low?
Do they lead you where you should not go?
Or do they help you find your way?
Do they sound like someone that you know?
A voice that comes from long ago?
Do they only come when you’re feeling low?
Do you wish they’d go away?
Do they show up when you’re all alone?
Or do they appear when you’re having fun?
Are you happy when these voices come?
Or do you tune out whatever they say?
You should know that we all hear
Voices whispering in our ears
They can feed our dreams or they stoke our fears
It’s up to us …
I pretended to be sleeping, .... through long hours of the night
Across the milky-way, you slept, 'til dark became the light
I could hear your quiet breathing, .... in the rekindling of dawn
sighing empty words we never said, just the rustle of the bed
where I pretended to be sleeping,
buried deep, in pillows weeping
Knowing you were close, beside me,
...pretending something, too
The night was dark and lonely, as cold as two hearts grieving
Exhausted love, that could not sleep, is weary love that we can't keep
A love that's running out of breath,
is brushing death too soon...
I pretended to be sleeping, but could hear my own heart breaking....
I stayed awake to hear your breath,
But now, afraid of footsteps leaving
A branch against the window glass, is scratching to come in
As if to pry, the words, "goodbye", that is carried in the wind
I pretended to be sleeping, but, I can't ignore the sunrise
The day arrives, without disguise, I must face it now, and ask it why?
You have turned your back, as if to hide
Pretending something too....
____________________________________________________
For Debbie's Contest: Songs to Poetry
"I Can't Make You Love Me, If You Don't" by Bonnie Rait
("Turn down the lights, turn down the bed, turn down the voice in my head...inspired the turning a back on love)
We once walked along together,
In the morning, by the sea.
Two young hearts rejoicing sweetly,
Hearts as happy as could be.
She began to hear strange voices
Speaking words I could not hear.
Voices from her inner sanctum--
Words not meant for human ear.
Soon her mind began to hearken
To the voices from within,
And a heart that once sang sweetly,
Never sang so sweet again.
I remember, in September,
On a golden, autumn day,
My true love was not beside me
When I strolled beside the bay.
I had searched, but could not find her
For our early morning stroll,
And my heart was beating slowly--
There was anguish in my soul.
Then they brought the tragic tidings;
That they'd pulled her from the sea.
Unheard voices had seduced her--
And took my very life from me.
Phantom voices in the midnight
Had aroused her from her sleep,
She'd surrendered to their calling,
When they beckoned from the deep.
After a cacophony of ramblings,
day bows gently---
Infants slumber with ease in cradles,
lanterns flicker above tavern stools
as mellow winds drift around gold-hued roads
paving the way
for flights of quietude:
Somehow, mothers hush their loved ones
to tend angel dreams
before sunglow ascends… while elders pat
loyal dogs in tenements far from home:
And young girls close overused iPods,
widows reminisce; single fathers
unlock the fence, tired—
Somehow, heartbroken women lay
on empty chairs alone,
Lovers fondle sigh deeply relieved.
This is nightfall. Its language of voices
breathes through different tones,
climbing into our hearts
where we exhale syllabic pain and glory,
until robin-wings unravel our incantations
to liberate us against hidden wails.
~
For PD's Impress Me with an Old Poem (002) Contest
Written 12/2018 ,S.O.
Resubmitted 10/7/2020
Stories of past love,
Deafening thoughts spoken aloud:
Romantic cascades.
Shattered Voices
Could I have not screamed or say No?
Am I Guilty?
I still feel as if it was an act of love...
But yet I still feel filthy
I have yet to meet someone that could satisfy me
As my mind wanders inappropriately
I see couples holding hands intimately
I look with mistrust misconstrued with jealousy
I look into a shattered mirror and wonder if it is the same face you see
I only see a face scarred and aged by ugliness, pain, and poverty
They say the only way to heal is through Love and Forgiveness...
But how can One learn to love? When you choose to be numb and ignore your prognosis
A Love-sick Stray puppy willing to hump any leg until Happy-Time
As long as you take me in and tell me that you Love me!
Is That not Love?
Yet I still feel fulfilled at-least temporarily
That is until I can find a new disguise
Sometimes I wonder if I have any feelings at all?
I am scared of them.
Feeling and emotions?
Id much rather divide myself with a quotient
Hide the Answers deep inside my mind
Into a place even I have a hard time trying to find
Love feels like a shattered dream...
Things are never what they seem...
It is wrong of me to express so much mistrust and jealousy
I should be happy for those who love each-other honestly!
But alas I seem to only know one cure for me
drugs, call-girls, and whiskey!
At-least until I run out of money...
Shrug.
~^~
I lay in my bed dreaming fighting with the darkness,
Like a serpent the memories come creeping;
The voices of the dead are so loud.
The past encompasses me like a thick blanket,
I am trying so hard to push the pain away;
The cemetery gate is opening wide.
There is a hush in the rows of tombs and tombs,
The voices of the dead are whispering;
Finally I cannot resist any longer.
I am falling into a dark void and I wander lost,
Tossing and turning, murmuring names in my sleep;
The tomb is wrapped in fog and vines.
Standing before the cold engraved words in stone
I fall to my knees weeping and lamenting;
In the dark purple cloudless night.
______________________________
August 16, 2013
Poetry/Verse/Voices Of The Dead
Copyright Protected, ID 08-499-399-16
All Rights Reserved, 2013, Constance La France
Entered into the Standard contest, Screwed,
sponsor, Rob Carmack, Judged 08/2013
Eighth Place
They are all in my head, all day and all night
I hear them talking, telling me something's not right
They come from all directions, my ears never rest
recalling words from the ones I thought I knew best
My family my friends, those closet to me, telling
me things I refuse to see.
They've been buried within so long and so deep
like angry little children refusing to sleep
Some yell loudly, some whisper soft
they speak of the times and the dreams that were lost
and all these times I've refuse to hear, from people
and places I held so dear.
I've been so let down, my pride has been shattered
My heart has been broken, as if I didn't matter
It's a harsh lesson these voices within
makes me realize I've only one true friend
Thank you lord for opening my eyes, to people
that hurt me and tell me lies.
God's comfort and love will pull me through
from all the bad things these voices do.
Standing in Heaven
a small voice calling my name
the image is small
I'm sorry God needed me
my child who was not born
by Michael J Falotico
Dedicated to all who have
lost a child before or after
birth...
Water trickles on her wrists
Wiping away the blood
Wiping away the pain caused by so many others
The voices in her head are screaming for her to kill herself
Telling her to forget about the small amount of hope she still holds on to
For that hope is the only thing keeping her alive
She feels as if everyone around her don’t see her
They see her as broken, something that can’t be fixed
But everything can be fixed it may not be perfect
But it still holds value
In this case the value of a person’s life
Someone who didn’t deserve the way she was made to feel
She had people tell her ‘I hope you die in your sleep’
Or people saying she was better off in a coffin
These words she started to believe so after so many years of hoping she gave up
She gave in to the voices in her head
That night she went in to her father’s study and took out his handgun
She held it to her head and with tears streaming down her face she pulled the trigger
Her parents woke in a fright and ran to the study
To find her limp, cold body lying on the floor, hoping that what they saw wasn’t real
That there baby girl wasn’t gone
They blamed themselves for not seeing how much pain she was in
For not noticing her when it mattered.
She grabbed at the quarter full pop bottle neck,
cream soda from Marsh’s,
and held like a truncheon, in the harshest
of voices
produced an otherworldly sound, GETOUT!!
“Give me a chance” and he stepped forward.
Stood aside her I moved towards
“****ing try it”
I’d never seen those eyes.
GETOUT!!
He turned and left.
He never normally got angry,
or swore.
I’d only heard him twice before.
Once as a just unwrapped Dunlop 65, badly hooked, hit the Irish Sea and brought blasphemy and profanity,
“Jesus ****ing Christ”
and as he handed me his driver an inappropriate hidden smirk from me,
his Sunday morning caddy,
for a couple of shots and 20p
The second at Elland road,
stood on the Gelderd End Kop,
Clarke swivelling before side footing in from twelve yards with me sat atop
a stanchion,
him stood behind,
“Get the f*** in” and he shook me as I cheered,
right arm aloft,
scarf tied on the wrist,
mimicking Sniffers celebration.
Sharing in the mass elation.
The best birthday treat.
It wasn’t our fight.
The adults crumbled.
We were let down on all sides.
Pre safeguarding times.
No support, no care.
Only the adults got choices,
not the era to listen
to five scared tyke voices.