The Philosophical Poetry

The Soul's Canvas

voice

  • Be a Poem

    Be a Poem

    Be the ink on the page that twirls and dances,
    Depicting sublime concepts in words.
    Be the metered pulsation, point, and rhythm’s fluctuation.
    Let the muse guide ideas through poetry’s maze.

    Be the metaphor that reveals the essence,
    Interwoven layers of meaning.
    Be the imagination that ignites an inner sense,
    Transforming abstractions into images that soar aloft.

    Be raw emotions on the lines,
    Joy with sorrow, passion in between.
    Whisper too, and let some soulful cry be fine,
    Musical language, beautifully designed.

    When people are most dejected, be their light,
    Directing lost ships: in darkness show
    The warm glow of lighthouses for those who wander at night,
    A gentle morning breeze caressing softly as thoughts flow.

    Let your voice be piercing yet gentle like any poet’s,
    A beacon through the mundane veil.
    Be always stanzas that never grow old,
    Their value known regardless of time’s tale.

    Be the poem
    That is reborn with each new reading’s breath.
    Make wonder-miracles, create verses that
    Defy death in triumph and break the silence.

    Filed under: 🜃 Infinite – exploring the unseen forces behind creation, truth, and existence.

  • My Voice

    My Voice

    Find your voice,
    They say.
    I have found my voice.

    They say pretend,
    Misunderstanding,
    Paper cuts on my soul.
    They sting, they bleed.
    This is not fine.

    My voice to you is
    Described as a whisper of a ghost.
    However, to me
    It is like thunder in my mind .

    When told to speak out loud by you,
    There are words that
    I must take from the deepest part of me,
    With every syllable
    Struggling against my throat
    And clawing to be let out.

    On the other hand,
    What you hear seems dry.
    But for me, it feels
    Like fresh wounds.

    But if I have to
    Call out to someone
    In the next room,
    I find myself falling into myself,
    And my voice coming out
    As though it emerged from the dawn of time.
    It leaves me panting, empty,

    Sometimes it sounds
    Like I’m yelling
    A cry in your ears;
    While for me this is an earthquake
    That breaks my soul.
    The effort leaves me gasping, drained.

    Peace is a soft shawl
    Within silence.
    At last,
    My mind breathes.

    In stillness,
    And in mute moments,
    I am complete.

    Filed under: 🜁 Self – tracing the inner landscapes of thought, feeling, and becoming.

  • I Hear Your Voice

    I Hear Your Voice

    I hear your voice,
    I see your impressions,
    Around for thousands of years.

    The older you are,
    The less individual freedom
    You allow.

    As time passes,
    More freedom is bought,
    By collective few.

    You dim your light,
    You work to buy
    Ignorance as truth.

    Don’t you worry,
    You do what you want,
    What you want.

    The only truth to follow,
    Is the one in our own darkness
    That shines.

    The seed grows in darkness
    Travels the path
    Towards light.

    It stands tall,
    Shines bright,
    Gives more than it takes.

    Allows freedoms of all
    As a natural life
    Worth living.

    Some get rewarded

    Filed under: 🜂 Other – reflecting on connection, relationships, and the spaces between souls.