Voice Poems
Cyril Ramaphosa : clerihew poem
by Ghairo Daniels
Cyril Ramaphosa
his voice box sometimes goes hoars-a
swallowed a Cheshire Cat, great white smile
running miles keeping da Amerikanos on the dial
Voice of the Voiceless
by Ayatullah Nurjati
In twilight’s fading glow, a voice stirs unseen,
It is the song of those from shadows gleaned.
They Walk with broken backs, hands worn and bruised,
Society’s edges, abandoned and used.
Is justice but a whispered prayer in the dark?
Or does it stand, a flame, a fierce spark?
To the powers that sleep in golden halls,
Hear now the cry from those who crawl.
......
YOUR VOICE
by Hrisit Chowdhury
It's been a long time since I heard your voice,
Meanwhile I was totally disturbed by everyday noise,
Your voice rang in my ears like some sweet instrument play,
I melt as soon as I heard, just like water to clay,
Your voice echoed in my mind like am in the mountains,
Happiness sprayed out of my heart, just like water from fountains.
Praising you is just few words lined but still sweetness of your voice can't be defined.
Voice like yours, one never did I find,
Girl you are one of your kind.
The moment your voice I found, I felt myself crowned.
......
Listen!
by Michael R. Burch
Listen
by Michael R. Burch
Listen to me now and heed my voice;
I am a madman, alone, screaming in the wilderness,
but listen now.
Listen to me now, and if I say
that black is black, and white is white, and in between lies gray,
I have no choice.
......
Girl in the woods
by Malavika Vinod
I saw a stranger in the woods,
Who sprinted ere me,
With her lucent brown stick,
And behind her, there was a bee.
She was singing a lay,
That pulled every creature,
And I noticed her stick,
The lucent was of magic.
......
Cyril Ramaphosa : clerihew poem
by Ghairo Daniels
Cyril Ramaphosa
his voice box sometimes goes hoars-a
swallowed a Cheshire Cat, great white smile
running miles keeping da Amerikanos on the dial
Detention
by Somali Mukherjee
Who can detain me?
Unless I allow myself?
It's all right in here...
Reflections of the Self
by Ayatullah Nurjati
As I stand, a poet in an ocean of words,
Unspoken feelings, unheard verses surge.
What is this craft, this calling to write?
Is it light for others or my own plight?
I pen the tales of others, the struggles they bear,
Yet each word I write is a weight I wear.
To live, to serve, to break free from norm,
A poet’s life—a perpetual storm.
......
Voice of the Voiceless
by Ayatullah Nurjati
In twilight’s fading glow, a voice stirs unseen,
It is the song of those from shadows gleaned.
They Walk with broken backs, hands worn and bruised,
Society’s edges, abandoned and used.
Is justice but a whispered prayer in the dark?
Or does it stand, a flame, a fierce spark?
To the powers that sleep in golden halls,
Hear now the cry from those who crawl.
......
People's Voice at the End of Twilight
by Ayatullah Nurjati
at the edge of the red twilight, the voice of the people echoed weakly.
In unheard whispers, there is hope that is increasingly fading.
The streets are full of grey dust, leaving footprints without a new destination.
Behind the glitter of the bustling city, they are overlooked in a gloomy shadow of silence and peace. The voices of the people who are tired of screaming, reaching for justice which is increasingly difficult.
Burned by empty promises, but still hopeful in wounded hope.
Dusk turns into dark night, But the voice never went away. In the hearts of those who continue to groan, there is a prayer that strengthens the weary soul.
