| Voice Contributions |
Voice Magazine wants to hear from you. The magazine is aimed especially at the disabled but contributions are welcomed from all readers.
Here we present a selection of our most recent entries. If you would like to contribute please email us, write to us at Voice Magazine, United Press, Admail 3735, London, EC1B 1JB, or use the Contact Voice menu option on the banner above. Letters should be no more than 500 words in length and poems should contain no more than 30 lines or 250 words.
Any material submitted to Voice must be the original work of the author, conceived and composed by the author alone. We cannot return any material.
When contacting us online or by email, always include your full name and postal address.
Peter Quinn
Since Voice first appeared in its present web-based format, we have received poems on just about every subject
imaginable. We have been transported by imagistic poetry to areas of outstanding natural beauty, we have been
moved by intimate expressions of love and loss and we have been buoyed by invocations of human and metaphysical
spirit. All of this has been achieved by one thing and one thing alone, your poetry, with the emphasis on the
second-person possessive.
For almost two years this webzine has been, and remains, yours, the readers. You are Voice and so it is
to you that we turn for fresh contributions. Now that the year has turned and we have successfully survived the
solstice without the sun vanishing altogether, what is it that moves you to poetry on either a personal or a
more general basis? Is it the coming alive of the natural world? Is it a sense of emotional or spiritual renewal?
Whatever it is that moves you to write, why not bring your writing to the attention of the Voice readership?
Also, if you have any ideas regarding the future development of the magazine, then let us know. One possibility
that you may wish to consider is that of featuring visual art in Voice in the future. You may even feel compelled
to provide visual illustrations to accompany poems that we have already featured in the webzine, thereby entering
into a creative dialogue. Again, if this is the case, then let us know because whatever shape Voice assumes in
the future, it should always be your voice.
Many thanks for your time and support, and let's get writing.
Owen Lowery
Assistant Editor.
Open Mic Night
A "Poetry and Prose" night was held in a Welsh pub near where I live on the 11th February 2008. My creative
writing tutor asked me to read on the night. It was only five minutes on stage, so I imagined I would read one poem
and it's over. How wrong I was. The night before it notched up to two poems and one short prose piece.
I edited my work and I read out loud to myself until my voice grated on my nerves. I crawled into bed at 3-30am.
My mind continued to race. The thought of reading in front of a crowd of people petrified me. I had never done
anything like this before and didn't know what to expect.
The pub's atmosphere was vibrant. Shades of red and purple hues made the stage look warm and inviting, but I
froze at the crowd. All the tables had been taken and a few of us from class and our tutor had to stand. My hands
shook and my legs trembled. I could have done with a seat. I admired those who got up on stage and done so with ease.
Later I learned most were like me and had never done it before. I hoped I wouldn't do something stupid like drop my
papers, have a coughing fit, slip on stage or fall off it!
After the interval and a few readings later, my tutor introduced me. My heart beat thudded against my chest and I
walked to the stage with my head bent. The room went silent as I stood by the mic. As I read my nerves evaporated
and I found myself enjoying it. I read two poems; Nature's Glory and Silent Tears and also a short prose piece, Who
Am I Today?
I felt proud to know people were listening to my work and it was even better when they applauded after each piece.
Afterwards people came up to me and said how much they enjoyed my work. It was such an honour. It gave me a rush of
confidence and the boost I needed. Now I want to do it again because I know what to expect.
The opportunity to do an open mic night helps with writing too in many ways. Although I didn't realise it at the time.
I hope one day I will be asked again, but if not I loved the experience. It's a night that I will never forget and look
back on with fond memories.
Lisa Plowman
To My Dad
You were my one and only,
Truly one of a kind,
Nobody is like or equal,
Or even parallel,
To my Dad.
My mentor,
My guide,
Now that you have gone,
You are not lost,
You live in me,
A man before his time,
Who gave me all I am,
To my Dad.
You read me stories,
That I will never forget,
Took me to places,
Far and wide,
Taught me things,
Taught me life,
We sailed together,
Through life,
To my Dad.
Life's journey up and down,
You were there,
More distant at times,
Than I would have liked,
But you were there,
Through thick and thin,
To my Dad.
Just want to say,
Thank you,
I love you,
To my Dad.
Lorna Jane Thorpe
A WELL YEARNED REST
Technology – it’s a marvellous thing!
But still, I can’t help wondering,
Just how much further we can go,
From bygone days, when years ago,
Our life was far more natural,
Less rigid and impersonal,
When picking up a phone one heard,
A friendly voice – a pleasant word,
Not press 1 for this – press 2 for that,
Press 3, press 4 , press 5, - my hat!
‘Til you forget which button’s which,
And wish there was another switch,
To connect you with anyone,
Pre B.T. 1-5-7-1…
(Although that can be useful
to stop others contacting you)
But on the whole, I’d love to see,
A Return to less technology,
When the only buttons that made me holler,
Were those attached to my shirt collar!
Tony Reese
For Being You
My feelings run wild
when you walk through the door,
that smile you flash
fixes me to the floor
the scent of your body
makes my senses ignite
love builds its defences
that passion cannot fight.
At night,i watch you sleep
so peaceful and calm
you look so sweet and innocent
ill protect you from all harm
you've made my world so happy
my future,with you is in view
i hope our lives end together
this is my thankyou to you.
Lynn Rankin
By the Sea
The rough surface of a rock found near the shore,
My jeans rolled up towards my knees
The sea crashes over my feet, as they sink into the wet sand
Squelching each time as I take another step, the sand moving in- between my toes
There are no unnecessary sounds, only the ones that the world first began with
The sound of the air moving, the calm silence in between
Her arms come and wrap themselves around me, holding me close to her body, rubbing her soft cheek against my neck
Her soft embrace makes me feel safe, as the sea serves as our blanket
As I hold her hands against my stomach, I look out towards the delicate sea
Knowing that this is where I belong, this is where I am happy
Rahim Moledina
Loss of Freedom
I wish you could take me away from all this,
That my pain could be erased with a single kiss;
I haven't committed any hideous crime,
Yet still it feels like I'm doing time.
A prisoner of my body but not of my mind,
Freedom in dreams is all I can find;
I could be doing so much more,
Fully exploring what life has in store.
Is it really too much to ask
To have more energy for every task?
A knight in shining armour is what I need,
To carry me off on his trusty steed.
We'd race through the fields, I'd hold on tight
As we sped further and further into the night;
Substituting hopes in place of my fears,
Wiping away my innumerable tears.
If only it were so simple for me to escape,
For these chains of torment to finally break;
It will take something even more powerful
To make my life once again wonderful.
Great Catch?
He thinks he's such a great catch,
That all women desire him;
But he'll find he's met his match,
With me his chances are slim.
His good looks count for nothing
When inside he's so shallow;
His attitude's maddening,
I find him rather callow.
His sweet talk won't work on me,
He churns out the same old lines;
Insincere he seems to be,
Showing no promising signs.
He won't sweep me off my feet,
Not in a million years!
He should simply admit defeat
Or else it will end in tears.
Annabelle Tipper
Treasure
Finder
Brings home charms
clay-pigeon chunks
flipped from the mud
with a stick
The things that reveal themselves,
shell promise-words
from the estuary mud
encounters
that cannot be binned.
Owner
of a hundred cigarette lighters
each with enough vapour
for one final flame
Miss Suzannah Evans
Family Values.
Family values where have they gone?
Our children running riot, rude and, ungrateful,
Bad mannered and badly behaved,
Out of control,
The worst in the world they say,
Bring back good old family values,
A time when there was respect,
Obedience, we had time for each other,
Families talked together,
They ate together too,
They touched base with each other daily,
Children did as they were told,
Had good manners too,
Had good examples to follow,
Everyone had love care and affection,
People were not too busy to care, to love,
Where has all that gone?
Good old family values.
Lorna Jane Thorpe.
Trivialities
If life and love and peace
Could come
To fill the whole world
It wouldn't really matter then
If my hair were straight or curled.
Julie Ashpool
IT
The times when I am OK
I know just who I am.
I know where I am heading
There ARE no ups and down.
Then bang! It hits me
like a bullet to the heart.
Where’s the real me gone again,
I don’t know - now, what’s up -?
It (Depression) creeps up gradually,
When nobody is looking.
“IT” takes up residence - and stays for a long booking -.
Then comes a loving voice, a familiar face or thought,
This opens up another door
And the love within pours out.
Cheryl Campbell
WINTER
The park rang with a still silence, so cold
White, crisp snowflakes blanketed the ground
No one dared to leave their houses, to be so bold
As to skate on the pond the ice had crowned.
The pond twinkled and glistened in the rare winter sun
It shone on the frozen pond as if to say,
“Ice, what mischief have you done?
For what you have you will repay!”
And as the sun began to fade
And the snowflakes ceased to fall
The ice most definitely repaid
And melted and was no more.
Harriet Phillips
LULLABY
and if one day
I seep away
do not lay heaviness
upon your heart
for I'll have only
dripped myself
into my songs -
hot brimming cups
waiting for you
to dive into
so they can pour
what's left of me
inside of you
and, word by word
like upon waves
to carry deep
what you forget
and give you sleep.
Felicia Dobre
A Cruel Act
I’m certain
that
this time
will be
your undoing –
the absolute end
of the gossamer line.
As you hammer blows
I sleep serenely
’mid the bruising
of my soul.
I won’t cry out
in pain or fear –
won’t fight tooth and nail
to quench your bloodlust.
Your fists seem tireless
as I am
tameless
in Life’s Jungle
running wild………
Tracy Ellis
The Wedding Band
The sun will rise:
The sky is white,
Where blue was once the midnight,
And backs will break,
And skin will tan,
Beneath the broken wedding band.
When summer dies,
And cattle laze,
Upon the flooding paddock gaze,
My heart will thaw,
The cold prolong.
The wedding band will still be gone.
Rachel Lawrence
POLLING BLUES
The tall man on the podium with bouffant hair and specs is telling me he wants my vote,he begs me, don't defect.
The promises he makes today are tempting, I'd agree, but the fruit of all his previous vows remains for me to see.
Labour, Tory and Lib Dem, with manifestos written clear;
there's not a single one I trust to remember theirs next year,
when they have taken over the nation's leadership and the new man in Ten Downing Street begins his ego trip.
New taxes, immigration and unemployment rife, we'll probably be dragged into a war.
Our soldiers, although poorly armed will go as they are ordered,
not knowing why or what the fight is for.
Oh no doubt we'll get some story, our security's at stake
and there's a dossier of evidence, of that there's no mistake.
Will they care about the NHS going slowly down the pan,
wards closing, patients dying, nursing staff and doctors doing the best they can.
With immigration running rife there'b be no cash to spend on nursing,
we need asylum centres fast,
the current ones are bursting.
Would the new man stop the lawlessness that's overrunning Britain?
Or still keep handling criminals with a little velvet mitten?
If any party can convince me that they'd make the changes needed,
that they've heard the peoples' voices and our wishes will be heeded,
then that's the party I will choose the day I go to vote.
Ann Prescott
SMOKERS OUTSIDE HOSPITAL
No Smoking in this area
the signs were everywhere
Pasted on the windows, on the doors
and on the chairs
Just a few steps from the door
matches strike and light
Long awaited puffs inhale
a cigarette delight
Visitors now join them
pass the weed around
Don't bother with the ash bins
just stamp out on the ground
Designed to cheer the entrance
are planted trees and shrubs
Bark scattered in the undergrowth
now covered with weed stubs.
Cigarette tips everywhere
crunching under foot
Flowers and plants now breathing in
tobacco to their root
Smokers outside hospital
what a sorry sight
Dreading as the day goes by
locked up for the night
When dawn breaks and out they come
nothing is more sure
Out come bed dressed patients
lighting up once more
Patients slumped in wheelchairs
clutching drips, look ill
See them hold the packet saying
smoking these can kill.
Catherine Barrons
Falling
On Friday morning
As the day was dawning
In the midst of a dream
I gave a loud scream.
It seemed so real
But held no appeal
I was running for my life
From a mad man with a knife.
As my pace began to quicken
In blind panic I had fallen
I was on the ground and trapped
In my duvet cover I was wrapped.
I opened my eyes wide
There was nowhere to hide
No longer dreaming
But still screaming.
I gave myself a fright
As I was wedged so tight
Twixt chest of drawers and bed
Thoughts jumbled in my head.
I lay in a crumpled heap
Feeling like a woolly sheep
Only I didn’t need a farmer
Just a knight in shining armour!
I didn’t have long to wait
To be rescued from my fate
My husband to be precise
Had me upright in a trice.
Nothing dented but my pride
Soon I saw the funny side
As I drank a cup of tea
Laughter bubbled up in me.
Rosemary Davies