It's Tuesday once again. With it comes another edition of Open Link Night over at
D'Verse. This week
Joe Hesch is your host. Stop on over to D'verse and read a wide variety of awesome poetry and even submit one of your own.
I've also linked this poem, by request (Thank you:) ) to
Victoria"s Poetry Site Liv2Write2Day
A
voice may sound,
Loud
or soft,
sweet or stern,
A
voice may crackle
Or
it might display-
Ambrosial
melodies,
Taking
the ear
To
dreamlike states
A
voice may move the room in multiform
From
lugubrious intonations to thernodial tics of speech
A
voice may swim the stars multitudinously far
From
anapestic accentuation to dactylic steps in time
Each
word blessing air
A
symphony of joy-
Or
an elegiac affair
Manifold
interpretations abound in all things
Illustrated
in history, frozen for eternity
A
myriad of experience sung just so
A
voice is alive, a living abstract of the being
Possessing
its own mark on space entwined
A
voice can fill a room
From
the banality of an office-
Where
prosaic diction inflect with hackneyed tone,
While
the sedulously spoken workaday,
Finds
assiduous demeanor and quotidian pertinacity
Offers
nothing outside fatigability and threadbare
To
the biconcave land of the discontent
Where
hearts socket in sepulchral luster
While
funereal pyres singe what remains
Of
a once Odic and Epical life
A
voice may yaw in such strife
Sluing
the dialect of ones dialectics -
Animus
birthed from promissory guile,
Incurvating
the path astray
Pabulum
grows bromidic through chasmal chords
What
first forged its corrosion through innocuous congeniality,
Has
since traversed dilatable plains of platitudinous yawp,
O’er
capacious terrain, multifariously expansive a course,
Past
the sapid and the piquant, eradicating succulence with each noxious terraced
crossed.
A
voice, now writhing, in alveolated strain
Echoes
in dementia’s blistered yawn,
A
song is deafened by the nugatory harbingers, so very
Desperately,
evacuating the tonality of mind
A
voice sings, in search of homogamy
A
voice, aching for propinquity
Yet
the language of the song remains,
Persistently
amorphic in each and every way
Concave
skylines suppress the simmered sun
The
voice has suffocated all proclivity-
Alive
in verse, yet set to rust
A
voice resigned to synchronicity of lip-
For
with the jejune, voluminous wit shall do-
And
the credulous will believe anything you tell them to
A
voice scratched and bruised,
Disgusted
by the prosperity of fools
The
fatuous man is friendly
Yet
knows not what his cheekbone wrinkles for
The
otiose are slothful beasts
Wretchedly
carnivorous
Snacking
on the scraps they gladly take
The
voice
One
day will, again-
Find
the most detectibly nectarous notes
To
whet a dry mans throat
The
voice
One
day again, will
Embody
a soothing tone
Nectariferous
Melliferous
Faveolate
Honey
syrup
Voice
unchained
Now
flavors
A
freer air
Where
sugars
Always
sweet
