voice
Learn more about other poetry terms
I yearn for how life loves to love
On the bridge of experience
Every fine day blooming by the tick
You will know I love you when my eyes can’t stand to glance away from your face
You will know I love you when I laugh even at the smallest quip to cross your lips
THINKING ABOUT YOU
Thinking about you and seeing you in an every imaginations. Yet crave your voice to hear, can't get asleep I think I fell in the water for you. Love in the air. Thinking about you.
#C9_fm
They're those who are screeming to be heard
And many even dreaming to no longer be abhorred
Wishing if only someone would stop or pause, to eventually understand them
They're those who are screeming to be heard
And many even dreaming to no longer be abhorred
Wishing if only someone would stop or pause, to eventually understand them
It Was G.U.R.U. Who Said In One of His Poems...
That It's Mostly The VOICE If It Is... TOP CHOICE...
That Makes Rap Listeners LOSE Their Poise...
And REJECT Whispers To Make... BIG NOISE... !!!!!
Shall I allow these iron bars that encage my body to also encage my soul
Verily i say these bars will not be allowed to constrain me
I wonder when i’ll be ready to share my voice
And I wonder who will listen.
Whose ears will my words reach?
Whose scars will they scrape?
A sunny autumns day in October
The gentle whistle of the mornings breeze
The ground camouflaged with orange and brown leaves.
The sound of the protesters marching in masses,
You are what words can't describe
Your beauty makes flowers
Your voice makes music
You a rock in my world,
yet so soft like raindrop
You a river that flow in essence and softness
Your sweet melodious voice, whenever strikes my ears
With all the glamour, beautiful voice of yours
Imprinted in love, uttered with fantasy
Your mellifluous voice takes me to ecstasy
Orthopedic surgeon fled Vietnam at age fourteen
Old Lady works full-time and rescues children in between
My doctor doesn't know mother died from a complication of this surgery
When you look back in time,
To see how things a-line,
It’s funny to see it all connect.
From history, with those victories,
Contemporary age and the superstitious world
Everyone seems a myth with consciences hurled
"Selene, Endymion" lie in every imagination
Claustrophobic streets are the example of infatuation
Lurking in the shadows always listening to others.
Having no voice nor opinion growing up.
I do not have a voice today.
It's been slowly fading
over three days, a horror,
because my opinions are loud.
It's been slowly fading--
that respect I know I deserve--
Teeth came in, screaming came out
As a child finding my voice came with fees
Every chance I got to fight I would shout
My mother made me get down on my knees
Is voting the only time you’re able to truly validate your voice?
I’ve heard about the police brutality, the shootings, food insecurity
But turning 18 is not the only time you get to make a choice
I.
The first day I realized
freedom is not free without a cost,
I was thirteen—
when we read To Kill a Mockingbird
and I could not help but think
i have spent most of my life in unconscious apathyoften rubbing at burning eyessleepily staring at fluorescent lightsin windoless classrooms that spark anxiety and agony
Why are we to be content with our role in this country?
We gave you what you asked for.
When will our government hear our plea?
Only when a lion is poked and prodded
does it turn and roar.
Only when a whisper is spat on and silenced
does it turn into a scream.
Only when a life is faced with death
does it become meaningful.
A Weapon You Can't Ever Take
by: Kaitlyn Whitner
I own the most powerful weapon ever known to man
Just like all other weapons
It can be used for good
or used for evil
I needed you like I needed a cigarette. Like tar to my lungs, you poisoned my life. I was only 17 and thought, "This is what love is"...
It was more like drowning.
My body is a temple.
You’re not invited in.
You’ve left me empty and broken, all from within.
My body is my home.
My safe zone.
Sense
September 7, 2018 ~ Friday
Little lips
Little bits of me, the tips
Of where all words begin and end
Little place to hide my insides
Finding your voice is not easy to do.
It all starts with a problem you need to get through.
After trying to deal with it all by yourself,
You think, "maybe I should look outside myself."
Voice"Just sing," they say But they don't know how much I pray Each morning and twice every night For courage to share what's in my mind's lightVoice One word. Too hard
"Lucy,
Lucy,
No."
She whispers to her hands.
She cries to the company.
We stare,
curiously,
judgementally.
I need to write,
I need to fight for every breath I breathe
Without poetry,
Or symmetry,
Creativity,
He gave me a voice
When I was too afraid.
He gave me a voice
When I could not talk.
He gave me a voice
So I could be myself.
He gave me a voice
So I spoke.
Poetry allowed people to been seen and heard.
With their voices they told stories.
Some of those stories portrayed a variety of struggles that people faced.
While others showed positive aspects of their lives.
Again and again and again and again.
Every two steps forward is one step back
People fight until they’re no longer standing,
And no one stops to help them up.
I always felt that my
Words,
Thoughts,
Feelings,
Were choked by my brain.
Chained by my heart.
Jailed by my lips.
Until I heard the reverberated echo caused by poetry.
There was a hum
Remember the time your mother said, "Turn your tv off and go to bed"?
Then in a split second, a sneaky idea is developed inside your head?
Poetry has taught me
That even without conversation
There are still ways
To inspire ideas
To express emotion
To connect comrades
Even without conversation
One can always use their voice
Poetry has taught me that I have a voice.
And that if I want to suffer in silence, that is my choice.
It has taught me that everyone is like a walking puzzle piece.
If we all speak up, we can be complete.
Like the stem of a sunflower
Swaying gently in the breeze
We push and pull
To the rhythm of life we know
Simply to grow
A crumpled piece of paper.
The stature of things unsaid,
Words unheard of.
Time thrown away,
Heart gone to waste.
Talents unseen,
Greatness unevident.
Mind-filled works,
Torn.
I’ve heard of guys like you my entire life
The type to dumpster dive
Instead of revive
There were times I wished I’d died
If I died, you would’ve taken everything
Including my voice
Dear ETs,
I’m sorry, I cannot find a way
To bring myself to fully answer your question
Regarding humanity’s ending passage of days;
We haven’t much to call our own.
Not our eyes or our hair,
or our X chromosome.
Not our face or our fare,
or the places we roam.
To you,
You know who you are,
so dare I write your name? Dare I continue writing?
I dare because that is what you taught me to do.
“Dream on, dream big, never be subpar,”
Dear School Board,
You threaten me with your words
With your long sentences of gibberish and peanut butter
Invisibility comes with secrets
Kept hidden away from publicity
They cannot be exposed, because of bets
That friends will see it with simplicity
To My Fellow Twenty-Somethings:
Oftentimes, the millennial generation --
The generation of which we are at the tail-end --
Gets a bad rep.
Home is a sanctuary,
a place of love and warmth.
Where a child's height is marked
year after year on the laundry room wall.
At Christmas time,
the smell of cookies and laughter
Pool Boy,
You were just a boy, sixteen years young - (blank) neighbor.
(Blank) demons derive from our paths crossing
when (Blank) was 4.
The day was hot, wearing nothing but the trainning bra and
You
Saw her singing her song
Up in the balcony
Where the moonlight hit her profile.
She sang about wishing she
Were
A princess
Who could escape her tower...
The voice within Movement is power, but the voice is the ruler.What you desire is derived from the mind,a human's voice is the gateway to world domination.This five letter word has a greater power than a humantouch, look, smell.
Petite fish in the sea,
little mermaid so lonely,
wallows in watery ennui.
Enough's enough and life is tough.
little mermaid suck it up.
devil says, here's my choice.
The sobbing mother cringes
as her baby cries.
She wishes they had warned her
just
how
loud
a deaf child’s screams could be.
Simply stunning
stars on a block of blue fabric
blown by the wind,
shooting
left and right
like the bullets between
our soldiers
Shallow glimpses,An idyllic panorama.Fields of Elysium, here on earth -As far as the eye can strain.As wide as the voice can throw.
I hear a voice ring loud and clear
And I look around quite in fear
That perchance it might be mine.
What is this strange young thing I have found?
A year ago
I didn’t have a voice
It was robbed
By the feeling of uncertainty
It’s an easy feeling
To feel trapped
Beautiful
Intelligent
Strong
Virtues gained
And stored in my
Silent intensity
-Laughter like a hyena leaving pink tongue unwillingly-
She's forgetting
How to speak softly
If the only thing to fear is fear itself
I find it funny that I'm so scared to be
Courageous.
I am most scared when no one expects me
to stand up.
If you can hear my voice,
Speak up please,
Quivering in the shadows,
Frightened of presumptions and
Prejudice,
I shut my voice to hinder
Judgment.
I am silent for
The sole reason
My mother was an English teacher.
My mother is an english teacher.
She was an english teacher because her overeducation
What's wrong?
Nothing
Everything
How are you?
Good, thank you.
I'm numb, you?
What ya doin?
Writing
I sing about my pain without ever breathing a word
The melody carried by the pen in my hand
The paper holding my lyrics and heartache in a crisp white shell
I search around my head
I look inside my heart
To find those key words
That make this sound
More like art
It’s the simple way
You can frame
A panaroma of feelings,
I have so many dreams in my life, it’s like no one knows who I am.
There’s a mask over my face, and I’m as weak as a baby lamb.
I write roaring, fragile words hoping that no one sees them.
Poetry is the sweet sap that seeps from within the trees,
exposing their true nature of how delicate and potent it feels against my fingers,
spiritually connecting with me.
Poetry elicits a plethora of emotions
My Vigilant Saviour, Poetry.
A young child of 10 discovered people never understood; when she spoke yet with her hands...her writing ,she communicated volumes.
This is what I have left,
The last connection to who I used to be.
I write to remember,
I write to forget,
I write to find where eternity meets the end.
I write about hope,
Long since lost
The sensation was like lying on the bottom of a pool
Weightless yet heavy
A blue blanket wrapping me in eerie silence.
I once was a girl
who was completely brokenhearted
from bullies, to boys, to a broken home.
But with a pen and paper and a much needed quiet room
there was relief.
I could write how I felt,
I am an emotive voice expressed through pen and paper,
but once was uncapable of being heard
because six plus years of bully beat downs
made fear seal every word.
Inability to communicate
To Elaborate
To Speak
It is quite a terrible fate
One which should not be cursed
Even upon those that you hate
Yet here I was
Crying
Scoop out my insides and take from me what shouldn't be mine.
Blinding pain, pounding guilt, drowning in sadness.
It doesn't end.
Forever doomed to question, wonder, dream, who, what would you be?
This is the story of how I lost my voice -
But more importantly, how I found it again.
How I found the words caught behind spiderwebs in my throat, itching to be free,
society teaches my son that gun play is better than word play. that being educated isn't okay they want me alive but not woke. I be damned to let them deprive me from my thoughts and Intuition.
Voices in the dark
Madness, that defiant spark
Words, Rhythm, Poetry, Rhyme
Escape, Express
The Truth is mine.
My speech on paper,
The world unkind,
Speak out with thunder
It makes me sad that no one will ever know how I sound to me.
I think I sound better that way.
But I will never be able to sound that way to others.
I feel like my voice isn't me.
The streets are sinking from all our heavy footsteps
Dragging down with it hope and soul
Draining any prospects
Of aim
Of meaning
A bird with no song is one that cannot truly fly
He may soar far above the others on strong, sturdy wings
but his throat is raw with unspoken dreams that weigh him down.
Crying out
for one of life's
many inconsistent qualms
which arise without fail.
Screaming
pleading for
justice, joy,
a sense of reason.
Little whispers
silenced pleas
A voice.
Such a small thing inside.
It can be whisper,
Or a scream.
It can be written
And it can be seen.
But I cannot live
Without mine.
It is the gift
Each of us is born with.
StrandedBehind the miles of oceanSand piled up like hoursAnd dark just dark: Empty.Just water, andSand, andDark, and Me.And I needHow I needI need Air
If I was left on an island
gone and forgotten
what would I bring
if I had the option?
I'd bring my voice
the only tool I need.
While I rot away,
it would keep me company.
She saw me once standing there, helping her mother
out of the bus and she smiles at me with her crooked teeth.
Her blonde hair waves to me in the frisky wind
And her purple blouse screams to me diva in one direction
A world of hate and critisism.
A world of judging eyes
What more can we do but listen,
As people speak their ignorant lies.
I know I can't stay silent,
Not when I can fight,
My world ended
So why was it still spinning?
Darkness crept in
So why was there still light?
How can the Earth still spin
And a candle still burn
When his heart's stopped beating?
The heat of my heart is a white-hot flame
It bears my values, my views and my name
Embers burn my tongue, refuse to be bound
Smoke billows upwards, lost but not found
My own silence most terrifies me
While freedom is my savior
We must close our eyes
Rise above the noise
And speak louder than blockades
I need my voice to say no
I need my voice in highs and lows
Voice
A powerful tool
Made to encourage
Not tear down
Language
Used to communicate
Messages of love
Not for evil humor
When words are exchanged
Little Things
They say that’s what it’s all about.
Perhaps even the things you can’t live without.
That little thing holds back all the little ticks in my head that are coming out, oh god
My voice is a fire.
It holds the power
to burn down every house in sight
every building, every door,
entire towns
and in its path
The gentle strum of fingers on a guitar,
Transporting the eager listener to lands of afar,
The pianist’s gentle caress of the keys,
Expressing melodies akin to the waves of seas,
I wanna know the music you listen to when you're sad
It says a lot about you
about how you handle situations when you feel lost
when you feel lonely
or when you feel angry
Wounds, that illuminate...That spirit, that planted the seed…unknown!Just a biological relationship…is not a home.The soulknows you not…Depart from thee.
Voice your opinion be heard
Your silence is death
But its only killing you
Born with a purpose
Have nothing to lose
Only to gain
Respect at the end
Not from the contribution itself
Learn' to write Poetry,
Always take'n by Force.
Swayed'n by the Man, At'n no time Free,
Just'n like a caged Black Bird, who'n never celebrated Freedom.
Say no, say no, say yes, say yes.
No- to abuse. It's not necessary, not right.
Twenty-eight percent are in an intimate relationship!
Ninety-eight percent of offenders- aren't punished!
Tell me something
Not an empty something
Tell me the truth
Don't tell me to just smile
Or hide it all inside
Cause those things aren't working
I've got no one by my side.
Authentic,
Loving,
True,
Or Bold,
I watch life go by as I turn old,
I love the world around me,
I love the people near,
to my heart...
Hate,
Screaming,
Confused,
Music is my voice
Lyrics are my words
A mermaids rejoice
In a broken world
My infectious laughter pollutes the air
Jumping in imagination
With love and hope everywhere
Creating inspiration
How to find it is my dilemma.
Where is it hiding, or am I hiding from it?
The power in me I feel swelling.
It is a dark purple wave at night,
rippling, rising, roiling,
Don't just listen to the "MUSIC"Pay attention to the message.Its the ignorant that has kept the intelligent arrested.
She is a young girlRosacea gives it awayFull of life, energy, and strong beliefsShe has a different way of looking at the worldNot to judge but to exploreShe wonders how others will look at her
Dream Big and Dream Small
Dont let the Failures Fall
Step High and Step Low
Choose the Right Path to go
Succeed Now and Succeed Later
Succeed when you Make Friends with Haters
Live Now and Live Then
Before the night
During the day
We all hide
In several ways
Hair in face
is my way
With no filter on
I have many flaws
face like sand
and nose so tall
I like quoting movies-
A lot.
I sometimes forget that the world
Isn’t privy to my inner dialogue;
If the world could hear my thoughts,
it would get lost, buried,
With no filter, my face is pretty average,
My voice and hair are nothing to salvage.
I’m quiet and shy when around the unknown,
My soul and color and pride aren’t shown.
When I’m near the ones I care for most,
The real me isnt pictures you see online
Or even sometimes outside.
The real me is deep down
Wondering if its okay to be herself or hide.
The real me isnt a staright A student
But doesnt mean Im not smart.
If you take away the filter
The hashtags, the signs
I’m left bereft of options
And put simply, there am I
Half-hidden in the sun
But avoiding the glare
You take my picture neck up
I am not the voice of the voiceless
i am a voice that wants to be understood
the sounds of my laughter brings me joy, while others remain to be angry
The thoughtless plucking of cords.
Air resonating through the pathways of muscle
To make sound.
Guttural, lyrical, nonsensical
Sound refined by teeth and tongue,
By the careful pursing and pulling of lips.
Selfies, the bane of my existance.
It's just a picture, It can't really show who I am
The kind, caring, smart, funny, loving girl
hiden by a face that cameras never seem to get right
ever.
But, yet.
All is one in the universe, son.
You need not fear, we all end up dying young.
Remarkable fortune will surely appease
Your preoccupied mind and your failure to see
That salvation is in front of your eyes.
Let your mind
Bloom like a flower
In spring.
May your thoughts
Grow fertile
In soil of encouragement.
Create a field of plenty
Waiting to be harvest
You're beautiful.
You're inspiring.
You're flawless.
I wanna be you. I wanna know you. I'm scared to talk to you.
I don't know if you'll talk to me.
You'll never like me.
I'll never be you.
I still catch myself,
from time to time,
wanting to call you,
or contact you in some way,
and tell you all about my year,
or even something as simple as the weather,
It's hard to
Believe in yourself
Knowing your voice
And to let it shine through
Care about what they say
And you say don't
Listen to your heart
Stop please
Know your worth
Pay no attention,
To the girl behind the curtain.
She's got nothing to say.
Her voice is not important.
Pay no attention,
To her weakened state.
I want to talk to you so much that your words turn into chocolate,
Sweet as they cascade off your tongue.
Stands on edge of precipice,
Ebony abyss
Battle born, there has never
Been a war like this.
Criss-cross grooves from razor blades
Creeping up young arms
Voice in barren wilderness,
In our judgmental society, people are ridiculed for everything:
Our looks must be perfect. Our personality must be perfect.
It’s a tough world for many, and each has their own problems.
Mr.Bully, your words hurt me
and so does your hitting and punching
Everyday you make me wish I could fade away
I try to be strong but sometimes I cry
I'm so tired of saying I'm okay because that is a lie
an inaudible sound
unspeakable words
that are spoken
but not heard
not yet
voice is presence
to have a voice
is to command speech
demand attention
to speak the thoughts
Do you ever feel alone?
Like the world is on your back,
but you have no one to bear it with you.
And you struggle and struggle,
but you can't fight it on your own.
Then someone comes
This earth is being attacked by what we produce
And we live as if there is nothing wrong
Don’t let people know who you are, who you really are, since
glass hearts shatter easily by those who have been equipped with stone swords from birth.
Don’t let people know what upsets you, since
Each night
I lay awake
Waiting and waiting
To listen to that little voice.
It’s the voice
Of my heart,
I learned long ago how to be strong; to hide my fragile heart.No one knew all the while, I was broken from the start.
What is it I'm trying to say?
As everything goes quiet and you wait for me to speak,
These words lose themselves to this silenced volume abandoning me,
Abandoning me and leaving me with no voice.
You know I wrote a whole poem not more than two seconds ago
what a shame I let it go
i wish I could rewrite it
Poetry, short shtories, novels
I write as a release, as a love
I write like it's my personal gospel
Because it's my reality I'm aiming to be free of
My mind is it's own cinema, a library
Everyday I'm living, going through the motions without any devotions, trying to fly but cannot deny it's hard to live and it's hard to fight
Back.
A voice,
The sounds in your head,
The sounds that surround us,
The voice to be heard.
To be heard by who,
By the person next to you,
By the person in control,
Whispers in the WindWritten by Adam M. SnowEntrance me with your tune,that gentle voice of yours.
Dilute my ways, they try
But when written in text it's as sacred as the bible's psalm
I hold each story captive
Each poem is my soul's refuge
I give voice to the intangible
You never knew her
Hi Annie Hi my name
I am unique and very
passionate about God
I'm very bright in all I do
I learn about love at the age
16 .
love is God
Love makes peace
Love is truth
Love is bright
To be heard in a crowd full of peopleis like looking down from an airplaneWe are all ants hereNo one is differentEveryone is the sameWhen I speak do you really hear?
I have a smallish voice.
It carries the weight of massive expression,
But bears it alone.
My visions detonate in the world around me,
They scatter and end up in every corner
The voice, oh how lovely it is, let's you speak,
speak your mind that is,
why not speak your soul
your soul is yoruself, one which cannot replace you
dear , oh dear, i love you very much,
I have always been the one left out.
I would speak, but i was never heard.
I would stand up, but get slammed down.
With all the unheard words and the put downs.
Speak
My life was like a loaded gun
Waiting for someone to use me
Waiting to be pointed in any direction
My reflection was silver bullet clean
My look was mean mugging me
There is a voice that calls in the darkness.
They say he walked the wilderness
With naught but the clothes on his back.
They say he cried out for days on end
About the coming of the light we lack.
I try to stay away from you
But you keep on coming back
I see the desperation
but I do not give a flack
You're a crazy creepy stalking pig
who I want far, far away
but you just seem to return to me
I’m always talking about talking.
Almost every poem I write stresses the importance of using your words,
or the joys of finding your voice,
or the pain that comes with being speechless,
To be heard is to be Waldo, found at last
To be heard is to be the smallest person in any given room with the most passion of any given person
When they left their toys in the yard, my mind went insane.
wouldnt your mom beat you?
and your dad...teach you a lesson?
your sister yell?
your brother get stomped on?
John Nash’s roommate said:
“If we can’t break the ice how about we drown it”
We are all fighting
A battle between pride and shame
We our no less valuable
With shaking voices,
America “ Land of the Free”
But what does that mean to me.
Orphans, and poverty
Opposition to authority
Gangs and disrespect to minorities
So really how free are we?
One Voice, One Change
I am me
Surrounded by poverty
People see and walk away;
Those in need remain; stay
If I could change just one thing
Every Day, Every Minute....
People get bullied
Every day,
Every
Minute.
Most bullies don't stop to think,
"Are they really getting hurt by what I do?"
Some see no wrong in it.
A Life Never Lived
I hear them quarrel
About my life
So cold and immorel
Words like a knife
The truth is ungloved
We should all be able to recite Dickens's famous line,“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.It was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness";and many of us can finish this J. Austen quote,
What do I do whenOpening my mouth to voiceTo carefully shape what I think are words of beauty to Your ears,I am flung roughly asideAnd, raising my headI find myself as aggravating background noise
They ask me if I'm confused?
They ask me if it's a phase?
They tell me it's a choice. That I wasn't born this way.
A song so moving I felt revived
the rhythm made my senses alive
A voice and instruments in a symphony
the connection to the lyrics gave out my sympathy
Even when I die
My voice shall cry
Immortalized through
The mind`s eye
Even if I rot
You will not forgot
You will hear my poetry
More than the ticking of the clock
Ever since I was a little girl I was told to make something of myself
To be a leader, and do my best to be the best me I could be
All I knew was happiness, school, and doing good by my family
I hear a voice hovering over all the earth.
You can hear it as it swims the oceans.
It's strong and climbs the mountains,
Exhibits a still, small voice in the plains,
A man that made her feel safe
Took her in like she was his own
Betrayed her by making his claim
It was ruthless. She called out for help
No one heard her scream
Belittled to nothing -- nothing at all
If I could change the world,
we would all be a little more understanding.
If I could chane the world,
there would be a litte less struggling.
If I could change the world,
He reads his words.
I listen to them,
Ponder them,
Then give feedback.
We discuss his artwork,
How he expresses himself,
And I try to tell him
How they affected me.
You know that thing that happens
Between a professor posing a question and that
First student raising a reluctant hand
To answer it
That awkward pause.
That silence.
what we learn in the classroom,
we may think id pointless,
but what we learn in highschool
could get us out of and political mess.
As the future of our country
we need to stamd and say
Falling down, falling down
And then those words saved me.
When I was at home and all alone
I looked for an escape
So I'd hide and wait, I'd hide and wait
And then your voice saved me.
Sitting on an invisible desert
Screaming for Help
No one hears you
Your voice is plastered on a piece of cardboard
No yellow brick road for you
I bet it turns you on,
Overpowering what the rest of us have to say,
Singling out the ones that you like,
Where the ones you don't care to know,
Are the ones that are struggling the most,
You talk about all the money that you blowed
Preaching to our youth to get throwed
You Rich and Famous acting like you really cold
This is one thing you never really told
That the mainstream gettting old
A fairy is real when a child is young,
A belief is what that idea is among,
Everyone believes in something,
Societal change is what beliefs can bring.
Religion is something one cannot escape,
You think you're hot sh*t don't you
because your clothes fit you and you got a nice whip riding after school.
You think you're hot sh*t don't you
because we will never be like you
Where is the color?
The flavor tasted by the eyes.
Where is the emotion?
Hidden behind worksheets of lies.
Why is it that we are slowly sinking
Into unsociable demise?
So we're are taught to be quiet,
Voice…what is it?
Why is it that there are so many types?Some have voices…like the Mona Lisaand others have it as the crushedpaper you find in wastebaskets.
If smiles could be the measure of one’s wealth,she would be the wealthiest.
Her smile is enchanting, beautiful and perfect,but a poor reflection of herself.
There is something growing inside me.
I couldn’t tell you how it got in, or what it even is, but it grows grows grows.
It’s not everyday that I feel it.
I'm subject to my opinions
my views
my decisions
But within the chipped paint walls I'm not.
Within these rooms majority rules.
Nothing seems to work
Nothing could ever be said
I am never heard
Nobody can hear
Nobody will listen now
I am never heard
Silence is comfort
Silence is my company
I was once something that carried a message with ideas, emotions, and a purpose, made from thoughts. For only a short time do I exist to serve my purpose,
As far as I know love is about devotion, not some temporary potion.Don't get me high just to have me withdraw, you're dose is never enoughand you know it.
I write to make a voice heard, my voice.
My voice is unique to me, and is there is only one.
My writing lets my voice be heard from the billions of other voices in this world.
This is why I write
Led by a Voice from within
Words slip off my pen
without my knowledge.
They are not my Words
yet my hand delivers them.
These Words are spoken slowly,
Sometimes I can go weeks without remembering
Why I write
Why I jumble some poetic words and propel them into flight
Off my fingertips and onto the screen
Where sometimes while reading them I growl or beam
Looking at me from the outside
You and I really aren’t all that different.
I breath air, I do my hair, and I think about
What I wear, and the way I walk
And the way I t…
The problem is that people can only speak with oneMouth. Most people will only listen to a person a single time.
When I was younger
I would sit in the back of the classroom without saying a single word
My teacher would always call on me
These words were never meant to fall upon death ears
These words were meant for battle
These words were meant for war
NO, we will not stand by and let our voices be silenced
The Sound of your voice
Is my most favorite noise.
Where one simple word
Is like a playful kiss,
For one whole sentence
Is just pure bliss.
I crave the words you speak
We are but black and white
The letters that we write.
The colors leeching from our pens
destroy worlds and breathe sins.
At the age of 18, most kids got their first tattoo.
I went to my first open mic.
And I was so scared to push my tongue and go,
I didn't want to know
I still wrote with training wheels.
cracked rum
eyes
drum drum drum
huh-umming a tune
swirling like a ball in a jug
a warbling happiness, tickling edge of tongue
not whitman’s yawp
but I’d like to think it’s similar
I suppose this is a poem
about words
Words have a hard time
they never get it.
I suppose this is a poem
about voice
My voice is trapped
in this keyboard.
I suppose this is a poem
We want to change the world.
We sang it together in crowded basements.
Declared it so loudly that the world may be forced to hear us.
But they didn't.
At night I hear the voices,
the voices that tell me I'm no good,
the voices forcing me to remember,
the voices telling me the past is never far.
Then I raise my voice.
One that used to be so weak,
My tongue twists in rapture, Captivated by the banquet of sounds to choose from.
Without doubt, this sundry is a soundboard forced to play only 1-4.
They can take away your guns, your money, and your rights, They can put down your revolts, Put an end to your fight, But they can't take away your words, And that's why I write. We're at war, But what for?
Just sit back
let the world spin you
thats what I thought
Stay still
don’t embarrass your lips
(poems go here)
Looking at her
with her Chinchilla fur.
Lady of Guidance and Grace
only to shut you down in your face.
With her arrogant brow
she demands all to take a bow .
Heads tilt sideways
Eyes peering in
Hearts beat to the same
Rhythm.
Come with us
Come with us
They plead
Lips glued upwards
In a grin.
Hair is swaying
Why do I write?I have found that, even though seeing is believingLooks can be oh-so deceiving. For me, the will to believe comes from the power of sound
Let me tell you about an unrequited love in me
It is everything but quiet
it is demanding and begs for my time, day and night
Sometimes we are sleepless, dancing in between sheets of
It would say:
For eyeliner, mascara, blush, and concealer,
All there for girls appeasement
And there magical purpose
Remains to bring about disguise
I'm here in class
Last one in the back
No one else can realize
That I have a voice that cannot be denied
You say that you don't hear me
But really your just not listening
Nevermind that your scared!
Give me truth!
Give me the first thought
Not the nice thought!
You, I want you!
Not a mask of polite-niceness
I want the hammer that breaks the rock
Give me truth!
Afraid, Lost, Judgmental, Crestfallen:
These are the reason why many are afraid to speak up.
Poetry allows are voices to be heard,
Without worrying about others beating us down.
Poetry allows an escape,
I sat upon a hill and looked out at the wide expanse before me,
Rich green grass covered the earth beneath me, and an honest
Blue sky stretched out endlessly
People walked, and ran, and laughed, and spoke, and sang
As the moon swells from still waters below
The sky turns a dark indigo
Yet another calm night has granted us rest
And blest are those who soundlessly sleep
I'm tall, your short
which ones better?
big boobs? small ones?
or how about this
big ass, small bum
I just love mine
who cares,
because thats the way I am! The way I am!
what can I say
I can't deal with this anymore.
The stress alone,
The one way thinking.
It's frustrating, overwhelming, too much...
Intimidated by the overgrowing sounds
My mouth smothered by a trembling fear
My voice lost in the jungle of words
A feeling of regret blooming in my throat
I can't help it but to feel
Times wasting away.
With me sitting here
Without words to say;
With everything to say.
This little voice of mine
With big things to portray,
In such a loud place around.
A reflection
I am fat.
I am ugly.
All of these imperfections.
I need to be perfect.
I don't eat.
Fat equals ugly.
The mirror tells me so.
My reflection stares back at me.
Disgusting.
It's the harsh sound that rings in your ears,
the noise equivalent to a bee sting.
The white noise in your head vibrates,
all you want it to do is cease it's unearthly pitch.
I've seen those hands before
In a different country far from here
I've smelled that scent before
But it's not like he's standing beside me
Flashbacks through my senses
Poetry is not the fashioning of words,
it is the forging of swords.
Poetry is not the stanzas or the verse,
it is the carriage or hearse.
Poetry is not just some thoughts to a rhyme,
it is the journal of time.
Never had to talk and never wanted to talk
Had any problems, kept them to myself
Problems with myself, the surrounding, our world, key and lock
But I can’t handle this and no one else will tell
Here's to the parents
who think they're always right,
and here's to the mem'ries
that keep you up at night.
Here's to the days
when you can't find the light,
and here's to the demons
whispering wind will pass
the booming thunder will overpass
your voice will shutter and ever-last
but i wonder who will hear it
make souls shiver at your voice
to hear the goodness of men
(I have always wanted
To be free
To find the light
The voice in me
Unique
And sometimes rough
serene and beautiful
Yet sometimes tough
I have been struggling
To find this treasure
I am a lost child
Fighting for a lost cause
Of that lost generation
My people are often misunderstood
My people are often looked over
My people are lost
At least that’s how we’re described
Age
