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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
The voice is a poem on the motions that we go through in life in our quest of discovering ourselves and how best we can do good to the society we live in. It depicts our constant struggles with good and bad.

Submitted: December 10, 2007

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Submitted: December 10, 2007





She paid me a visit last night

In the dead of the night when the new dance was just about to begin
When the dew and the bitter cold is just a voice in the distant
Calling out to me but oblivious to the tiptoeing echo
She paid me a visit and who could resist her charms
She called herself the voice of tomorrow
The stifled voice: the silent voice of the silent stares
To me she was like a drum that rises above the motions of the dance
In the background but with an enticing rhythm
The rhythm of life’s dance
She took me on a journey: a well choreographed life dance
With me as the soloist and the silent voices as the audience
The audience that never laughed with me but in my vanity i was blinded
Blind to the wind of expectation but full on my streams of greed
Greed that sucked up the space of the silent stares
Feeding my veins but never satiated
The silent voices were an imperfection to my act
Yet i performed with vigour for they remained my audience
They cried for a slow dance i gave them twist
Their tears of agony were streams of happiness to my arrogance
And i danced because the sun was shining
She then brought rain
And the drums resonated above my solo performance
My voice was drowned in the thunder of a thousand beats
The rain pounded and i chocked
My voice was swallowed by the laughing wind
I was silent no matter how loud i shouted
My act became a frantic movement of my limbs
As the wind pushed me to the edge of the stage
And the silent voices now became a part of me
I could feel their heartbeats in mine
The pounding of their anguish opened its arms to me
My vanity gave way and i was suddenly naked
That was yesterday
Today, i am the mascot of the silent voices
I am the rose that stands in the midst of the murky waters
Channelling all their dreams and desires to the wind of change
My act now beats in tandem with the craving of the audience
For i know the vanity of yesterday is a voice in the horizon.
She waits and watches over my every move
She will wait forever for yesterday is gone.
(c) Newton 2007

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