Poetry Corner

Deafness

2006-11-20T15:45:00.000-08:00

by: Julie-Anne Wideman

I am going crazy!
Some say I am already there
Craziness is fun
But only when I am in control

It constantly seems like I don’t have any control lately
I want it back
But do I really need it?

Confusing messages
My head says what I want to do in an audible voice
My body loudly tells me what would be healthy
Yet it is my heart that screams
in a still small voice what I really need

It is my heart I have trouble hearing

Words Undone, Actions Not Spoken

2006-11-20T15:44:00.000-08:00

by: Wesley Hague

Why do I believe the lies
that says my life is more worthless than flies?
Why do I listen to the words
that bite, and hurt, and drive in herds?

What we people simply do not see
is how easily it is to hurt you and me.
Sometimes it is not what they do or say
but what they don’t that hurts this way.

We can build or we can destroy,
through words of silence someone’s joy.
An offer not taken or simply ignored
a hurt heart is that reward.

Beyond the struggle and the pain
the light of hope is ours to gain.
Forgiveness helps put loss at past
and our lives for God will we last.

WORDS

2006-11-06T18:01:00.000-08:00

by: Julie-Anne Wideman

Words. Running around my mind
Bouncing around so much I can't make sense of them
Some connect and make thoughts
Some collide and destroy the thoughts

Can't focus. Where am I supposed to be?
Here or there?
Everywhere it seems

Someone is pulling in this direction
Commitments drag me in the other way
Where do I go?
Can't I stay here?

Words going everywhere
Some random, some not
DESERT, FAILURE
CONFUSION, SKY

Where are they?
Where are those words I need?
. . . ..
Wait! I see them.
But they’re out of my reach

Then He hands them to me and all makes sense
PEACE, COMFORT, GUIDANCE

Iron and Steel

2006-11-06T18:00:00.000-08:00

by: Wesley Hague

Iron on Iron, and steel to steel.
Each day I go, this fight seems real.
To wake, to live, to yearn, to thrive
I stand to question whether I'm alive
Who am I? or what could I be?
Is there more of me than I cannot see?

A chance, a flaw, I've missed the mark.
At times, things around feel so dark.
To return, to stand, to grown, to learn
A chance again, all I want to earn
On feet I stand, once again I shall try
until on my backside, again I lie.

Today is good, that path seems brighter
The load I carry, today seems lighter.
To laugh, to sing, to dance, to cheer
Times like this, I wait many a year.
Between the awful dark and the bright light
I walk daily as I fight this good fight.

Iron on Iron and steel to steel
Each day I go, this fight seems real.

One Cent Candy

2006-10-16T11:36:00.000-07:00

by: Rachel Neumeister

Hi there Sonny, what can I get you today?
I’m sorry, but I don’t have those anymore.
Because I did not like counting them for children who wanted a hundred of them for a loonie. It was too much work.
There are other candies here too, you know. There are lemon swirls or chocolate nuts or sour sticks or cherry delights or strawberry chewies or my favourite – butterscotch bursts.
I’m sorry ma’am; we got rid of them last month. I don’t have any for your son.
I almost regret it though. The young’ns always come in here, wanting those things and paying for them with a coin they found on the street. The disappointment on their faces makes an old man like me feel sorry for them kids. I hate saying no.
What a grand idea! I will include them with tonight’s order to the factory.
Come back on Saturday, kid. We’ll have ‘em back again then.

and through

2006-10-16T11:33:00.000-07:00

in imitation of e.e. cummings’ “in just”

by: Rachel Neumeister

and through
fall when the world is colours
crunchy the children run

and scream into and rustle

and johnandliza giggle
to the rain through the
leaves and it’s
fall

when the world is mud-magnificent

the slow
delirious child whispers
into and rustle
and hanzelandsam come singing

from lazy days and summer nights

it’s
fall
and
the
egg-handed

child gallivants
into
and
rustle

A Leap

2006-10-02T10:40:00.001-07:00

by: Wesley Hague

All life begins with a single leap
to choose Him whose promises keep.
To choose the cross over our life.
To choose the way riddled with strife.

Life must continue this treacherous climb
During which we will struggle and pine.
To give to Him, all that we can.
And to follow His all amazing plan.

Backs may turn and friends forsake.
And earthly promises turn to fake.
But He, single, unchanged, true.
Will keep all He promised to you.

Each day, which path we choose.
To which path shall our life lose.
The wide or narrow, the large or the small
But to God’s path is that which I call.

Lost

2006-10-02T10:40:00.000-07:00

by: Jordan Vetro

The sun has faded into gray
And I have lost the lights of day
For I am behind retched walls
Of my own prison's narrowed halls.

I met a man upon a trail
Who told to me a somber tale,
Of kings who once did nobly fight
But perished in the lonely night

He told me he could give to me
More power than my mind could see
And promised me such riches great
But warned me of a horrid fate

I did not care about the gloom
I was too young to think of doom
I took what wealth he gave to me
And squandered it so foolishly

But alas so unknowing was I
As my own destiny drew nigh
I abandoned love and hope and trust
But soon my riches turned to dust

And when all of my wealth was gone
I could no longer see the dawn
The sun has set upon me now
And it was too soon to show me how

How I could have loved them true
And how I could have best loved you
You left me when my riches grew
And now I wish I only knew

The sun has faded into gray
And I have lost the lights of day
I'm forced to perish all alone
For I lost you to gain my throne.

What is Poetry?

2006-09-18T10:55:00.000-07:00

One of the writer's unanswerable questions... What is Poetry? One could spend hours pouring out his heart onto a page and come out with a rhyming, rhythmic masterpiece of poetry just as easily as another could scribble some words down and call it a poem. Perhaps one of the most open-ended styles of writing, poems can express whatever you want, however you want.

This is the poetry page, for which there are currently no submissions. If you are interested in writing a poem for The Voice, or already have a poem written that you would like to submit, contact Rachel Neumeister-Box 139 or email voiceofebc@gmail.com