Voices echoed where no words were spoken,
Faces passed by, yet remained unseen.
Smiles wore the shape of living,
While souls wandered somewhere in between.
Anger struck like a storm in silence,
Leaving guilt where thunder used to be.
And every step away from others
Built another wall around the sea.
The world still turned, the sun still rose,
Yet colors faded from the sky.
For isolation is a quiet prison,
Where a heart can scream and none ask why.
But even shattered glass reflects the light,
Even the deepest scars can heal.
For one hand reaching through the darkness
Can remind a lonely soul to feel.
So here stand the voiceless and the broken,
The lost, the guilty, and the afraid;
Learning that being heard is not in speaking,
But in the bonds that silence never erased.
Trails before me
The guiding light of all who look
The veiling dark betwixt each star
The crumbled rook
The waning breath of who we are
Or whom we mistook ourselves to be
In sleepless fantasy
Fades as voiceless memory
Gazes upon a faceless sea
Turning, we weep
As silent ends the dream.
Pierces, the waking
The heart stirs once more
Beating with fierce unknown fear
We stept once more thro' trouble's door
We make our way in lonely dreare
If happiness greets us,
We'll away from here,
But no eyes dare we cross, or meet
We watch the ground 'neath our feet
Lest it fall away on some nameless street
And we fall double lost
To the waves of defeat.
Stare up toward the star that blinds
Know that nothing in the null binds
That the rush of life
Are the flowers of the eye
Frail and intricate beautiful
But ultimately a lie
Dream bears more weight
Than you or I
And the hour is late,
I’m afraid.
You can’t hear me, I’m voiceless
Winds will tell what I say
If they won’t, I’ve no choices
Got no decent PA
I don’t meet expectations
You can’t see what I hide
The most distinct explanations
Sound in splashes of tide
It’s just me on the shore
Walking over again
Empty shells by the score
Glisten in the light rain
The ozone tastes so fresh
And the seagulls fly low
And my heart in your flesh
Keeps its beat while we go..
I learned how to shrink
from people who took up too much space,
how to apologise
for things that were never mine,
how to swallow words
until they turned into something bitter
and permanent.
You called it attitude
every time I tried to speak,
called it too much
every time I felt anything.
So I made myself smaller,
quieter,
easier to ignore,
until even I
could not find myself.
You were comfortable
with my silence.
But something stayed—
something sharp.
It watched,
it waited,
it remembered
every time I was dismissed,
every time I was rewritten,
every time I was told
to be less.
And now,
I am not interested
in being understood.
I am interested
in being done—
done shrinking,
done softening,
done carrying
what was never mine.
You can call it anger.
I call it
the first honest thing
I have ever felt.
The twist of a tongue
The hiss of a word
The end of a sentence
The start of a chirp
Saying nothing means everything
Saying everything means nothing
A language consists of words
Words give the voiceless a voice
To speak their mind and not hold their tongue
And let their inner beauty show
Speaking is an art only a few understand
To hold the attention of a room
To sway an audience
To charm a lover
There are many ways to convey a thought
There are many languages one can speak
Each with their own weight and significance
All are unique
An endless cycle from beginning to end
That is what a voice brings
A thought sprouts
You water it with curiosity and doubt
An idea nourishes it
And it blooms when you speak it
It withers through rejection
And dies due to shame
That is what a voice brings
That is what language contains
A field of withered flowers
That once held beauty
A field of ideas that were once valid
A field of voices becoming voiceless
The speakers finally becoming speechless
Contest: Oxymoron
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
,Date of submission: 4th September, 2025
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My heart screams silently in pain,
Dry tears still drown my fragile soul,
My grief is small yet vast as rain,
My cheeks stay parched though hot tears roll.
My throat cries out in voiceless will,
I’m crushed by love too dark to care,
Your gentle hand was made to kill—
You broke my heart beyond repair.
A poet with words that never sway,
His heart was full, his mind a stream,
Yet silence cloaked his dreamlike gleam.
Oh, the voiceless poet, under the moon,
Crafting verses like a lonesome tune,
He sat by the brook with a pen in hand,
Sketching starlight on the golden sand.
The villagers spoke of his absent song,
Whispers and tales, they wandered along,
"Why does he not share the thoughts in his soul?
A tale untold, a heart that's whole."
He wandered the fields where wildflowers bloomed,
Among the sweet scents, his spirit consumed,
Each blossom a word, each petal a line,
In the still embrace of the night so divine.
One fateful eve, at the break of dawn,
He stood by the river, with courage drawn,
With a voice like thunder, he spoke to the skies,
The hidden sonnets, the world to advise.
The waters did shimmer; the echoes did dance,
The voiceless poet had seized his chance,
His words soared high on the wings of the air,
Spreading his dreams with a heart laid bare.
Now the town sings of the poet so bold,
Of stories unspoken, and visions retold,
For within every silence, a voice can ignite,
As the voiceless poet found his true light.
There is a transformation taking place
where the human condition is now lacking
In complete understanding we hunger
and thirst for righteousness to take proper shape
these words internally ring a bell
Why are you persecuting me
knowing the difference between wise and foolish
between hot and cold opinionated reactions
those responding with hate attack love
They try to delete truth replacing it with lies
forgiveness has infinite wisdom and mercy
To double cross the victims courage
injustice has buried something greater
the voices of the innocent will never be silenced
We weren't always dolls
Before the dolls - flesh was
RAW
and torn
Before we were dolls we could rip open our skin
and bare it to the world
and when a little girl peered inside
everything was new and unseen
but flesh got harder to dig into
and tear
and stretch over a canvas
and all the little girls grew impatient
for it had been a long time since they had seen something new
so the little girls tapped on our skin with gnarled hands
and crooned
open up
let us see
but we didn't
we couldn't
open up please
let us see
its been too long
but our skin was fully hardened then
plastic as a penny
LET US IN
they screeched
and clawed at our skin
but it didn't yield
when our pretty pink lips parted in protest
only echoes came out
and a little girl leaned in
maybe to peer through our mouths into our stomachs
maybe to taste the blankness
but when it did
it choked
its mouth filled with pounds and pounds of fluff and nothing
whispers of when skin was made
to be torn
and little girls didn't dull their fingernails down
scratching at doll flesh
When others speak
in hushed tones,
behind closed doors,
my voice
rises
for the voiceless.
My heart
only knows
to advocate,
to persuade,
to fight
for the cause.
In a world where rights Slumber
Justice withers like a deserted flower
The Voiceless voices out of no voice
A silent scream of Murmur that awakens.
From the Comfort of Silence
Dreams Re-Awake in defiance of the prevailing mandate
The old guard will soon surrender to dawn
The Voiceless voice, a force to be reckoned with.
Written by Joel Adi Yohanna
Looking down through my window, at the beautiful people shuffling like charmed regals.
My chair can get closer from the side,
but the view isn't as accessible.
If I could only get well, I can do those things.
I could eat nails, be a badass from my immunity to sufferings.
Is it because I am bad or would do bad things?
I'd like to think I am disabled for a purpose.
I hope that it is in lightening God's burden,
sharing his cross, that is heavy.
I see more people now, wandering the streets.
No one talks to them, they pretend they don't see.
I know the routine.
There is a vulnerability in this world that is unfair.
The unborn, even less able with their handicap
than me, to have a voice.
One day, the world will see the truth.
It will set them free.
The last will be first and the first will be last.
When we all get our permanent incorruptible bodies. There's no need for wheelchairs in heaven,
no need to avoid like the plague,
because there won't be any.
Just things the way they ought to be.
Splattering dried soil upon my face
Lying on that bed for a space
Space for stars, rainbows, and the moon I plunged my eyes; the sky took me into a room
An inch of fumes and smoke filled my lungs
Drown in how they pierced their fangs
Space by space, acre by acre—work as a trade
My skin, eyes, and hair were cascading.
Treasures like golden quicksand,
Provider at most, even in their command
Midst of the haze, everything seems fine to me
Died at most, thou poorest tree
Let them cultivate their land and squeeze out my skin
Everything looks fine to me; I have no kin
Let them pulp my eyes and scorch my feet
Does not matter when I live in a threat
The gift of their deeds is the scaly land
Uncage the air and mutate the hand.
Living in hell or living in a raging tie
Raging storms, zapping lightning, polluted realm, and it looks fine to thine eyes
Stood a strong soldier with all those mishaps
Hiding my scar and fertilizing all my stuff
When you are all broke and I’m here to embrace you
Complaining is not my cup of tea
Sounds all around
Not heard
Speechless
As time passes on
A crowd
Frozen not a word
Shyness around
Voiceless
Reality myth
Spoken in doubt
Words of encouragements
Life's about
Voice was heard
The crowd in a pause
Suddenly it was loud
Thunder roaring
People running
Prayers lifted high
What a time, oh my my
Silence withstands
Non-fear
Taken up gears
Voiceless.
The end results
A safe place
The voices of joy
Spoken out
Non-doubt
Voiceless.
As a bird I am,
blessed with these wings
that have caressed the
winds of wisdom, and
flown me to places far,
and shown me
the ends of the Universe -
a bird indeed, yet one
entombed in a
miserable cage, even as
the whiff of free air
outside my inculpable prison
does fill my nostrils
through the holes in this
rotten mesh.
If those gates are shut
so be they, for they may
keep me from those worlds
which I've cavorted in,
but my eyes, kissed
by a thousand suns do see
beauty even in that which
deprives life of beauty,
and this voice, once subdued
shall speak again, crafting
another world in this
lonely abode.
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