The Earth 01.02.19 – Emily Johnson

like a seed waiting to germinate and bloom in glorious agony

Earth

Emily Johnson is a 15 year old writer from Edinburgh who loves creating poetry. We really appreciate her decision to participate in the Voices project. Thank you Emily.

the earth

01.02.19

It is

dormant,

waiting

my skin shows promise to freeze,

And crack. Break.

eminates from me

like a seed waiting to germinate and bloom in glorious agony

inside

it is buried inside

digging

breaking through the skin

the earth

oh when where you planted

my tears only help you grow

heat, once a comfort, sees you bloom a new leaf,

it all comes from the earth

the mother earth

Emily Johnson, 15, Edinburgh

Did you enjoy this poem? Why not visit Maggie’s website at: Maggie’s Centre Nottingham to find out more about their exceptional work and/or make a donation. Do you have a poem you would like to submit to Voices? Feel free to do so by email at: voicespoetry@outlook.com or via the ‘Contact’ page on this site.

The Greatest Mystery of All – Tyler Kershaw

In my heart they will always remain

Tyler Kershaw is a Film Student at Leeds Trinity University who has very kindly decided to submit his work to Voices. Tyler is extremely passionate about poetry and writing, and we thank him for his contribution.

The greatest mystery of all

As I sit here in modest reflection,

I think of the lives that fill my heart with affection,

Scottish neighbours down the road,

Nana and Grandad whose love they bestowed,

Benny, Izzy Lula dogs most faithful,

My feelings for them forever grateful,

In the folly of youth I thought them immortal,

Feeling their affection I forgot they were mortal,

So many sunny days and happy nights,

Their aura, their power shining so bright,

This fire they made lit me up like a lantern,

Brush strokes on my life left me with a pattern,

In my house I see their pictures,

The memories up there just fading fixtures,

My question to the cosmos the universe at large,

Are their spirits up their or just a mirage,

Do they watch from the heavens under Heimdallr’s eyes?

Or is this comforting thought a torrent of lies,

I think I understand this affronting mystery,

There is more that’s left than just plain history,

In my heart they will always remain,

Their existence was always more than a brain,

The power of the soul forever eternal,

The spark the fire forever infernal,

Although I weep at the physical loss,

I can’t help but smile they’ve passed across,

On to the boundaries of a new existence,

I will always remember them with all my persistence,

At times it makes me mellow it makes me sad,

But this feeling and force I’ll always be glad,

Tyler Kershaw, 21, Leeds

Nimbus – Luke Nutt

bright like an idea or a movement in dance

Luke Nutt is a university graduate with a passion for English and creative writing. He often draws upon personal experiences but decided to create ‘Nimbus’ in honour of a friend’s sister who was recently diagnosed with cancer. Thank you so much Luke for sharing your talents with Voices and entering the competition.

NIMBUS

a hair becomes ash
for fingers to play
to write a play.
crespucular in mood
but bright like an idea
or a movement in dance.
there is no snuffing you
no forcing you from the sky –
your cloud is as I say

your cloud.

mammoth of nimbus
you are no dowager
you live, sky blue,
sky and blue,
light hue on a damaged canvas.
and like the cloud’s tears feed
foliage;
it, too, feeds the stream
next to which we build cities,
churches, homes. keeping hope
remaining
hopeful
for the droplets
that contain
you.

Luke Nutt

The Grief in my Mind – Macee Grace Atkins

Like a broken mother, I mourned for someone

Macee Grace Atkins has had a love of reading, writing short stories and poetry from an early age. A tragic accident which resulted in the loss of a fellow student at Macee’s school inspired ‘The Grief in my Mind’. We really appreciate Macee taking the time to share her talents, and address a very difficult so topic eloquently through the medium of poetic verse.

I didn’t quite know you and you didn’t quite know me,

but somehow. The silence of the crowds,

and the parting of the clouds, made me wish you peace.

For it wasn’t meant to be.

Like a broken mother,

I mourned for someone I had not loved but somehow lost.

Trickling droplets of grief

cleansed me of the purity of happiness. Until

a single angelic sign settled on my right shoulder.

Reminding me of hope,

that of which I have for you, Aamer.

Macee Grace Atkins, 15

Stephanie Hewitt – Hope

give things time..we’ll heal…we’ll smile..

Many thanks to Stephanie Hewitt for her entry to Voices. Stephanie’s mum, who is sadly unwell at present, provided the inspiration to the poem – and she loves her very much. The poem reminds us of how quickly life can change for better or for worse. We appreciate Stephanie’s kind decision to share.

Hope

Our lives are full of wonder..of how each day will be..

we hope it’s full of love..good health..but we have to wait and see..

Our lives can take a tumble..when we’re sure it’s turned out right..

It can turn our lives upside down..and darkness hides the light..

But don’t despair..be sad..or weep..It’s just a passing day..

give things time..we’ll heal…we’ll smile..Everything will be Ok..

Stephanie Hewitt, Great Ayton, North Yorkshire

We Are Blind – Caoilinn Hughes

It’s easy to ignore problems

Thank you Caoilinn Hughes for her potent and relevant offering to Voices. We appreciate her decision to share her work for a very good cause.

We Are Blind

We are blind to what we don’t want to see

And deaf to what we don’t want to hear

We accept the inequality in our world

And ignore all the hatred and fear

Global warming, plastic pollution

Oceans filled with waste

Starvation, thirst and poverty

Yet we remain stone faced

It’s easy to ignore problems

When helping is too hard

But if we open our eyes and ears to the world

At least that would be a start

Caoillin Hughes, 17

That Day – Jackie Kirman

From the back of the church, it might be a normal service,

Special thanks to Jackie Kirman who is a Creative Writing Teacher with a passion for producing both poems and short fiction. Jackie has had some of her work published in the past and we really appreciate her kind decision to share ‘That day…’ with us.

That day…

we left in a hurry.

The rest in our wake,

break neck speed.

Holding hands, our three;

fingers enclosing fingers,

enclosing fingers.

Past the three

storey flats with

names scrawled

on dim-lit doorbells.

Past the long haired

cat, with its hanging

tail who circled

three times.

And our three

flowers, bruised

stems, bleeding.

From the back of the

church, it might

be a normal service,

but the congregation

slowly turned.

That morning…

I woke early,

the noise in my

head like a loose

storm door in a gale.

I dreamt

I had no legs,

just an old board

with wheels.

I thought I would

make a sign to hang

around my neck.

Jackie Kirman

Carnival – Alyson Faye

jugglers juggle, tumblers tumble, stilt walkers stumble

Alyson lives in the UK, writing dark fiction and poetry, which has appeared on the Horror Tree site, in anthologies – DeadCades, Women in Horror Annual 2, Trembling with Fear 1 &2, Coffin Bell Journal 1.Her poetry has appeared on Words for the Wild, the charity anthology Indra’s Net, The Five-Two, Stories from Stone and as part of an ‘exquisite corpse’ poem on space and time magazine. She performs at open mics, teaches, edits and lives with her family which includes 4 rescue animals.

https://alysonfayewordpress.wordpress.com/

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Alyson-Faye/e/B01NBYSLRT

Carnival

Under the canopy of stars

garish side stalls huddle,

jugglers juggle,

tumblers tumble,

stilt walkers stumble.

Its beating heart – the carousel’s stable

of peeling painted steeds

froth and rear.

Candyfloss lips, sugar cane steps,

miniature Charlie Chaplins dance

eating liquorice shoelaces gripped in grubby fists.

Balloons,

tug, rip their tethers

stippling amber sky

in primary palettes. Pop guns burst,

hot dogs and liverwurst.

Behind black lace veils

Esmeralda, Palm and Tarot Reader promises

a long life, gentle dreams,

no savage losses, rich with Hope –

A Depression’s richest currency.

The carnies toss up guy ropes,

paint their faces, mutating

into clowns, gurning for the crowds.

Spinning their web of penny dreams and lies,

laying a patina across the dusk.

Alyson Faye

Anxiety – Robert Phillips

The battle may be long

Thank you to Robert Phillips for his poignant offering to Voices. Embarking on a course of Creative Writing has been a life-changing experience for Robert and we really appreciate his decision to share ‘Anxiety’ with us. A former lorry driver, Robert states that writing ‘has totally changed my life for the better and has opened up many new challenges and opportunities to me.’

Anxiety

Anxiety is not needed
It’s something you choose to allow
Pressure from outside you
Like a grenade waiting to blow

You build it up
Let it smoulder
Then some one else
Lobs another one
Over your shoulder
It waits for you to reach
Your lowest point
And primes your brain
With constant doubt

It’s not liberating or expansive
Binding you in mental chains
It’s insular and destructive
Only anxiety chooses when
The chains can be lifted

Try to talk to someone
Family or stranger
Try hard to converse
You need help to lift this
Damned anxiety curse
Surely sharing can’t make
Your life or feelings any worse

Anxiety makes you feel
Weak and very brittle
Knowing your supported
Builds your armour
Just a little

The battle may be long
But fight with all your might
It’s you that must crusade
To find your shining light
Knowing you lead the charge
Not a spectator in the middle
Make it dance to your tune
Because many a good tune
Is played on an old fiddle

You control it
Don’t let it control you

Robert Phillips, 56

Senses of Music – Steve Fordington

Music harmonises the universe

Steve Fordington is a North Norfolk poet, lyricist, musician and teacher. He has written poetry all his life as well as playing and teaching several instruments. He is an active member of a Norfolk poetry circle and regularly performs in bands, groups and orchestras. He has published many compositions and was a schoolteacher and manager for nearly forty years.

Senses Of Music by Steve Fordington

Music – you can’t touch.

Yet music lets you feel.

It’s from imagination.

Yet music is so real.

Music – you can’t taste.

And yet it stirs your soul.

One note, one chord, a passing phrase

Brings back what memory stole.

It helps recall the sights,

The smells and raw regrets.

It fixes a moment frozen –

A diary point time forgets.

For music is our backdrop,

Our wallpaper of being.

Our collective inspiration

Of loving, knowing, seeing.

Its entity exists alone,

Away from instruments and scores.

No crowded media imposed,

Nor locked away indoors.

And like an everlasting strain

Of all life meant and more,

Music harmonises the universe

For futures gone before.

Steve Fordington, North Norfolk