Long Voice Poems
Long Voice Poems. Below are the most popular long Voice by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Voice poems by poem length and keyword.
Footsteps
Footsteps
On the ground…..
Lightly
Stepping
Without a sound…..
Tears are
Falling
As oceans sigh…..
The sun is
Descending
In her eyes…
The waters stretched their surrounding arms
Caressing her precious prints with their saline charms
Smoothing her past—an exhalation at last
As legacy lavishes the flight of her path
Withering and draining, absorbed in the sand
Are the tears she once shed—no longer does she stand
In kneeled acceptance her deep pulse unwinds
As her melodious voice falters in the plague that binds
In her serenest solitude have I kept her close
As those streams do crash upon my heart-burdened coast
I listened to her sing—as the sickness rose
Like the tide’s sudden descent, oh how life suddenly goes!
Footsteps
Footsteps
Heavy now……….
Carry her
To bury her
In the ground……….
Oceans
In motions
WAVES//COLLIDE
…..Someone beautiful…..
…..…..now has died……….
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
For years they live in shadow
For years they've been mistreated
For years they've been ignored and pushed aside
Black sheep of the family
Blamed for everything
From the broken window to the last place in line
Who is to care?
Seems no one
As long as nothing is broken
Nothing needs to fix
Who is to say we are perfect?
Yet we don't realize the growing malignant malady
Oh America you are supposed to be the beacon of the world
Yet you fall so
You seem deaf to the voice within
The voice of reason
You seem to make up your mind on certain things and not see the obvious
What caused you to be the judge?
Or are you now a juror?
Say bypass
Minds all made up
Fine
You will see once and for all
Who is the juror and who is the judge
None of thee
God does not make anything imperfect
Yet you continue to insist it is
Time to owe up to our mistake
And let our Ruler to be the judge
Time is a wasting
Can't afford to lose it
Time is the essence
Let's not be blowing it
Time is unknown
Let's not misspending it
You can do it
You can correct it
And make it right!!
Hola
Written: August 30, 2023
______________________________________________________________
I believe the reach of empathy is endless.
My soul echoes with love and kindness.
But the lure of larkiness entices me deeply.
Hidden yearning, teasing current meekly.
While singing, I discover liberation in the air.
A tune that eliminates all despair.
The emotion is what is significant not the lyrics.
A distortion of realism as my soul soars, empirics.
In mischief, there's a spark, a wayward flame,
A twinkle in the eye, a game to proclaim.
Not utterly harm, but a playful jest,
To bestow laughter and joy—a moment of zest.
In kindness, I find solace in the world.
A gentle touch that mends all that's unfurled
A little spectacular, but a straightforward act,
To brighten someone's day, to leave an impact.
When singing, my voice becomes a guiding light.
A sparkle of hope shines through the night.
In the darkest hours, when all seems lost,
The melody of faith will never exhaust.
Not utterly understood but deeply felt,
A tone of the heart, as skepticism is meant.
In kindness, I find strength to overcome.
To lift others up and support them become
The best versions of themselves, to inspire,
To ignite a fire within, a burning desire.
In mischief, there's a lesson to learn,
To embrace the unexpected, to bear a turn.
GOD IS SPEAKING MINISTRY - A DEDICATED VERSE TO JANEEN BROWN -My SpokenWord
A thought
a voice in the dark spoke forth life and light
Cell birth multiplying births truths cells dividing
Cells all is well all well all is well still dividing
Shhh!
Hush the powers in His eyes speak life
Quiet, love the power in His ears loudly listening for the darkness
And when the moon will arises and the Sun is risen in the Stars surround he is the author of creator of all above and below in beneath and everything in between God is life
We are His hands and feet we are His mouth we speak we are reality we're off about our Father's business for His glory
In God speaks forth---God is speaking ministry
Use me as your vessel Lord
God pouring me ever more
Daddy Father use me as your hands and feet to walk to someone encouraging to greet
Give me hands and arms to embrace your loved beloved children
A hand and mouth to pray until your sheep always
Help me to be a light not a spark not a flame
Give me thy Grace to illuminate in your name
The power of you oh God shall not be deflained
For I speak life abundantly in Jesus name
God is speaking ministry
In my being
The sound that I hear
God is speaking ministry
And God is seeking and God is seeking all his beloved children and God is speaking and God is speaking for the just to speak to the unjust
Why you breathing keep breathing before because it is his kiss that has given you life
Energy supported you're part of his anointing a cell an energy your life
Love speak love speak hope Joy speak Life speak the Father heart
Quiet! hush, the powers in His eyes speaking life hush my love beloved the power in His ears ring listening flowing through the darkness and when the moon will arise and the Son has risen returns and sets. Battle Won a New Heaven New Earth rebirth, reborn In the Stars surround heaven's core Our Father is the author of creation of all above and below and in beneath and everything in between God is life
Sounds
Sounds
Sight
Sight
My brother, my sister --Beloved
What is your duty call
Get out of your misery rebuke be placed in your destiny ...
God is speaking
God is speaking ministry
God is speaking ministry
GOD IS SPEAKING MINISTRY
3/25/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2023
‘The ego shouts, but wisdom whispers.’ —A Zen philosophy.
The weaver bird screeches without pause in the tree,
trying to convince a mate to move in.
I slam the window shut on the noise.
His ego bruised and in pure disgust,
he rips apart the nest that took a whole day to build.
Raising one’s voice has never won an argument.
A whispering voice draws people in,
fragments or whole thoughts shaped by time—
wisdom distilled from discarded ego.
I open the window to a world misunderstood,
gathering the brittle twigs of tolerance, convinced
poetry is born in the pauses between spoken words.
It was some hours of purgatory,
Self imposed, but all the same,
He thought of it as purgatory as
He listened to them declaim
Their long strings of words with
No apparent rhyme or reason,
As if joy and happiness had
Somehow fallen out of season.
They said he wrote doggerel
Of A Most Low And Debase Kind
Containing Very Little Substance
To Stimulate And Feed The Mind.
They inferred he wasn’t welcome
In their flagellatory poetry clubs
Which really pleased him because
He preferred to perform in pubs.
There was a real sense of victory
Using his drill instructor’s voice
To make himself heard above
The normal drinkers noise
He would get their attention ,
Conversations would stop,
You could almost hear at tines
That fabled pin drop.
So many of those drinkers
Happy to give their time
To just stand and listen to
His worthless low based rhyme.
Oh he was well aware that
He wasn’t intellectually lauded
But that couldn't hold a candle to
The joy when a bar applauded.
In the realm of the intellectuals
Much self worth was raised
As they revelled in their world
Of much mutual self praise.
And out in the mundane world
Of the pub, the club and bar
He was regularly applauded as
An open mic performance star.
I met him in a cafe one cold winter day
as I was absorbed in writing a poem
I realized a man watching me
a handsome man
and my world began to spin out of control
time stood still
I did not know that we were about to set sail
when he came over I could almost not speak
but when we began I could not stop
he wanted to know what I was writing
a poem, I said
and read it to him and that was the beginning
days, became weeks and months
we spent a lot of time together
and he loved when I read my poetry to him
I asked, would you love me still if I was not a poet?
he would smile, of course, but I love your words
the promise between us was a delicate flower blooming
his touch was like music to my soul
the drum of time rolled and then we married
and I promised to love him for a thousand years
love is a fragile seed that one must treasure
but God took my beloved away and the seed withered
I drown in the dregs of yesterday's sorrow
and among the pages of my poetry that I read to him
I folded my wings
and waited
part of me wanted to destroy those pages
until, I heard his voice one night
whispering I love you, and I love that you are a poet
it is your destiny, so write, write for the world to read
and I will hear your poetry all the way up here in heaven
I will watch over you every single day and I am waiting
for love is a journey that never dies
Once a boy loved a girl,
She asked for a red rose,
When winter snow did twirl,
And all the flowers froze,
Where could he find a rose?
A nightingale did hear,
Of his deep love for her,
She wished to help him here,
To assist and succour,
Where could she find a rose?
She went to a rose plant,
And asked for its flower,
It said, "Mine's white, I can't
Make it red by power."
Where to find a red rose?
She went to another
And asked for a red rose
"My plant has no other
Red rose which finely grows.
It's winter, no red rose."
"But there is one sad way,
By which you can get one,
You must do as I say,
And then it could be done,
The way to a red rose."
The nightingale did sing,
Her heart pressed on a thorn,
Unmindful of the sting,
Till a red rose was born,
A crimson blood-red rose,
The moon looked down in awe,
As the nightingale sang
Of deepest passion raw,
The air around her rang,
With the birth of a rose,
With her own blood she made
A ruby rose for love,
Her voice began to fade,
But her song rang above
The scarlet passion rose,
The nightingale lay dead
With the thorn in her heart,
The ruddy rose blushed red,
When plucked for his sweetheart,
That nightingale's blood rose,
The boy gave it to her,
"Will you now dance with me?"
But she said, "I prefer
Jewels to flowers free."
The boy threw that red rose.
The nightingale was dead
For she believed in love,
But the boy simply said,
"Love - nothing does it prove."
A cart trampled the rose.
A beautiful red rose,
That took one life to make,
The nightingale's love throes
Lay there crushed in heartbreak,
The thorn had pierced the rose.
07.08.2020
6 syllables per line
Inspired by the short story, "The nightingale and the rose " by Oscar Wilde.
Heaven to each of us will be something different.
Artists will find paint brushes, easels, canvases, and glitter paint.
Musicians will discover instruments not invented yet on earth.
Scientists will land in a lab with like-minded white coats.
Romance writers will wake up to the fragrance of lilacs and roses.
Their pens will be quilled with the fluffiest feathers,
Their word processors will be voice activated
Illustrators will be creating the most sensuous book covers
Heaven will be filled with things children can touch.
They will gravitate toward each other, full of enthusiasm and mirth.
A carnival, zoo, museum, playground, and lots of cotton candy.
Bunches of relatives and friends ready to give them hugs and kisses.
TV loners will find themselves in a media room,
Each video screen showing whatever their mind hopes to see
They can spend hours in here, entertaining themselves
Food is not important, but they can choose popcorn if they like.
Each of us will have the things we need to entice us to want to stay.
If we want to take a peek at our loved ones, we can from time to time.
But after a bit we will be so delighted living our bliss and doing our work
We will stop all earthly visits, knowing we will see our loved ones soon enough.
VISUALISE 1
Intent speaks clear of ample gains:
Voice utters well the style of poise;,
Insight moves cheer in posture plain;
Sense can now tell the play of choice,
Urge joy to move such affluent lots;
Allow for time to sync deep feel,
Love knows the grooves of vibrant thought;
Invite fond chimes to answer will,
See that you see the pattern clear;
Embrace the truth with pictures grand.
Meet wise beauty that charms fond cheer,
Opt to know proof in sacred scan;
Reap mellow finds where ideas match,
Etch in your mind that vivid catch.
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
07 June 2017
Singapore