Voice

Sometimes I say things when I shouldn’t
Often I lose the plot and stay stumn.
That’s just the way we are
When me and my voice agree

My voice and me most times agree
Like pals. I tend to think it…
He gets to say what I think
But – sometimes he can’t keep up

For example, I’d been seeing a girl…
She is gorgeous. We went to the Lyceum
She was on her second Babycham
When Lady In Red came on.
Voice, I said, ask her to dance

Well, she moved like a Jenson Interceptor
We danced on the very air of her perfume
Swirling, swaying my shoulders swaggered
Across and over the floor Chris DeBurgh gave me
Soft in my arms – I was a mountain of pride.

In that empty room of hundreds
Just when the lyrics sang
“There’s nobody here…
It’s just you and me”
She whispered to my neck, “I love you”.

Oh boy, I shouted silently
As voice sang along – “this beauty by my side
Never forget the way you look tonight”
Then a lump came to my throat. (We both hate him!)

My head held us both, on the balls of my feet
She was feather light in my arms
Voice was being strangled by lump
But feet legs and loins were busy.

I could have danced that night on a sixpence
And spaced the corners of the universe in a heart beat
There on the dance floor, as the last chorus words faded out
“I love you itsy bitsy” she stretched up and found my lips.

As we went back to the bar
I inwardly raged at voice my failing pal.
Say something, something great, sexy, soft , sensual
The bastard stuttered…Could only mutter “I, I, love you too”
She vacuumed my chest breath away as she smiled.

Her eyes kept dancing across my face
Her lips so tempting – lump threatened us both again
Sobs of happiness, exquisite love I could almost taste
In satin sheets of endless nights – voice could sing…
Glorious songs to my beautiful exquisite girl

With Voice determined to get all soapy croaky
If Lump would let him get that far
I opened both my hands and smiled
And despite belly stones weighing tonnes
I sang for voice “We are where, now where we are”!
Sometimes I say things when I shouldn’t
Often I lose the plot and stay stumn.
That’s just the way we are
When me and my voice agree

My voice and me most times agree
Like pals. I tend to think it…
He gets to say what I think
But – sometimes he can’t keep up

For example, I’d been seeing a girl…
She is gorgeous. We went to the Lyceum
She was on her second Babycham
When Lady In Red came on.
Voice, I said, ask her to dance

Well, she moved like a Jenson Interceptor
We danced on the very air of her perfume
Swirling, swaying my shoulders swaggered
Across and over the floor Chris DeBurgh gave me
Soft in my arms – I was a mountain of pride.

In that empty room of hundreds
Just when the lyrics sang
“There’s nobody here…
It’s just you and me”
She whispered to my neck, “I love you”.

Oh boy, I shouted silently
As voice sang along – “this beauty by my side
Never forget the way you look tonight”
Then a lump came to my throat. (We both hate him!)

My head held us both, on the balls of my feet
She was feather light in my arms
Voice was being strangled by lump
But feet legs and loins were busy.

I could have danced that night on a sixpence
And spaced the corners of the universe in a heart beat
There on the dance floor, as the last chorus words faded out
“I love you itsy bitsy” she stretched up and found my lips.

As we went back to the bar
I inwardly raged at voice my failing pal.
Say something, something great, sexy, soft , sensual
The bastard stuttered…Could only mutter “I, I, love you too”
She vacuumed my chest breath away as she smiled.

Her eyes kept dancing across my face
Her lips so tempting – lump threatened us both again
Sobs of happiness, exquisite love I could almost taste
In satin sheets of endless nights – voice could sing…
Glorious songs to my beautiful exquisite girl

With Voice determined to get all soapy croaky
If Lump would let him get that far
I opened both my hands and smiled
And despite belly stones weighing tonnes
I sang for voice “We are where, now where we are”!

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4 Responses to Voice

  1. nushrized says:

    It sounds as though someone is after the ghosts of past. Sad emotions, I suppose.

  2. anna says:

    Interesting metaphor.
    Several striking individual lines but overall feels like a first draft.
    I cannot understand the reason for the repetition.
    Shouldn’t there be at least some rhyme to tighten up the stanzas?

    I’m reading Les Murray [an Australian poet-you can download a pdf from his website-www.lesmurray.com]and he deals with similar themes.
    Have a look at how he makes the poems dance with internal rhythm .
    And his use of rhyme.

  3. odeboyz says:

    Thanks Anna, I will look at Les Murry. I am very much a beginner in poetry. Mike.

  4. del says:

    A man called Chris with cash to invest,
    Studied tables from both the east and the west.
    He then dived in feet first
    And for better or worse
    he came out even, more or less.

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