Voices
The voice within the voice
that nags and complains
the voice of thwarted ambition
and of dashed dreams
the disconcerted voice
tired of birdsong
weary of the dawn chorus
irritated
by the laughter of children
the controlled voice
within the controlling voice
the voice that hijacks conversations
that throws words against a brick wall
the voice that knees in the groin
the loveless voice of excessive
self-regard that teeters on the brink
of dispassionate pantomime
And as a counterpoint
a voice of belched words
loosed to the eddies of the air
a voice devoid of guile
or pretence or subtexts
a voice that clings perilously
to the sharp edge of the truth
a voice suited to wide savannahs
to gently flowing rivers
a voice attuned to the subtlety
of roses and to the dignity
of tables laid for supper guests
a common or garden voice
that hums to the chatter of bees
that gathers honey
from the least likely pots
that at times gives in
but never gives up
a voice that revels
in all life’s energies
a voice that sings
of wheat ripening in the fields
of apples that swell on the branch
of the intimacy of distant stars
and of suburban highways that guide us
ineluctably along love’s lanes
John Lyons