Voice of Poets

Many, with the hand of history
penned down their names.
Most, eloquently
howled in the winds.
The deeds of these men,
traveled from the past
to meet all in the future
on an endless road.
I for one hear
the echoes of their melodies,
the sweet rhymes and
rhythms of their poetics,
their plea and call of the soul
to live in peace with nature;
accepting the gift of life with love
and keeping the garden
of this haven of a cove
life has known,
for the pregnant tommorrow
and her offspring unborn
will soon make it home.
In my generation,
I have chosen to answer my call
that comes from forefathers' cries.
The muse; an acolyte to unravel
the mysteries clouding their strange voices.

Wait!

I shall tell all I hear
in the while you give me ears.

I bear the skin of the blackened earth
whose dust awaits us all to give and to take.
My heart and yours are no better
than charcoals becoming cold tars in a while
I am called a name the muse for some found.
My kind has an ear stretched out on the ground.
The eyes on my forehead eagles doth envy,
for they scout the sky and the expanse of oceans.
The vastness of the hills and cleave of valleys,
I shall travel in the winds
to bring before your gaze.
Revere not poignancy
for the mind of man is an abyss of thoughts,
but the heart of folly is an empty desert.
Listen to the still voice
to tell which imprisons a soul.
Should the latter meet the head,
then a crown of lapis lazuli rests upon one.

Else,

bestir, bestir!
Answer the call of the
old resounding and shaking
the pillars of earth.
When slumbers have all
gone down to the abyss,

then

I shall tell all I hear
in the while you give me ears.

Never had a heart
been swirled to outwit a lava flow
Nor burned to scorch
the face of the sun
Only the shrewdness of nature
invades man's wit
And the agony of the sun
felt through the ozone layer
But listen and ponder a while;
When deforestation successfully takes place,
Does the trees war with us?
They would miss the warmth of mother sun
Their tango with the winds
Would learn the tales of dinosaurs
Yet they sit and watch us damage their habitat
Just as the beasts of the fields
The birds of the air
And the creepy friends of life
Forcefully sent out to wonder off
in mourning; howling, chirping,
groaning, bleating and hissing.
Their songs of sorrows are recorded
in the awe of night

Listen!

I shall tell all I hear
in the while you give me ears

The pristine air has nourished our bones
And fed our lungs without nothing in return
Did we cuddle her, hug her
and lavish kisses upon her
Did we even cared
to visit her abode for once
yet she is all around us
fretting to serve us at all times even in graves
But we have revived her contaminated enemy,
we have freed her rival to dent her noble image
Through fumes, wastes and locomotives,
we have freed the enemy to aerate our lungs
and goad our health
While the knight still serve the king
from exile with a broken heart.
I will not close my eyes
at the sight of marine dwellers
lest their tears deface me
whilst the crude wipe them all away
or the poacher that have sworn
to end the lives of whales.
How will a shepherd lead in the skin of a leopard?

Come, I will take you down
to watch from a zenith,
some acts unseen.
We take from the oceans
through irrigation, tunnels, pipes
and erecting beaches
yet how many tears
have we poured back
into her depleting full bowels.
The deserts lay bare
seeking for warmth and love
yet we employ desertification.
Who had made us all inhumanely rigid
not to feel how lonely mountains are?
The mountaineers and peak climbers
can attest to this.
Even the eagles that travel far
to lay her young ones
within its heightened arms of love
could speak fairly of the motherly love
attributed to mountains.
Oh! How so we have wronged
the hand that feeds us.
When tornadoes climb the height of heavens
to protests such injustice,
we only cry out her destructiveness
and haul earthly possessions from her ways
mindless of the oppressions her kind had known.
We lament when the earth opens her mouth wide
to swallow us young with hot blood in our veins.
Yet we have no time
to examine the drilling wounds
we have caused in her bones
nor the radiation we have let out upon her face.
They feel the pain we also feel
from hurricanes, floods and cyclones.
Such love we also show to them by day.

Now, the matter have all been spilled out
on the ground yet the container is full to its brim.
And many not said would be heard

Hence,

Ponder! Ponder!
To purge infestations
blinded by good living.
Take a moment of selflessness
and draw what the eye sees

Then,

Tell us all you hear
in the while we give you ears