People often try to emulate the appearance, the mannerisms, and the actions of others... people often try to step into the shoes and take on the responsibilities of someone else... people often try to recapture times, memories, and experiences - because people do not want to lose anything that matters... people often try to forget about the times when people fell - because falling in any way is a tale telling sign of our humanity, and though we may not want to admit it no one is invulnerable. People often try to echo the ideas of others, people often try to speak for others, people often try to imitate the voice of others - but there are some voices that can never be reproduced, because the voices of some people are unique: take my Dad, for example, whose spirit and whose voice I can still hear, and I will always hear every day, within my mind, in undeleted answer phone messages, in the memories of him and me that I will never forget, that I will always recall, that will always make me cry as well as always make me smile - because there will never be anyone like my Dad, nor could there ever be anyone with the same caring, compassionate, and calming cadence that was ever-present every time anyone heard the unmistakable and the unforgettable sound of his voice.
voices
The Sound of Mark – podcast: “Remarks” #5: Finding our voices
My Poem ‘Cornucopia’
Different voices appeal to different people…
different values can be found
within the heart of members of the same family…
different songs and different styles of music
strike different tones depending on
who is listening to them…
different minds and different lives
contain different thoughts, feelings,
and drives, that need the right elixir
to elicit a reaction to break the shell
of their outside facade to set them free.
We are all different – nobody is a robot…
we are all looking for what makes sense –
but sometimes life is a melting-pot
from which we have to put the time
and the effort into molding the molten-soup
that we find into exactly what we want.
Humanity is a choir
of many different accents,
that at times sing harmoniously
as-one with the same message…
our entire planet and every form of life
is an opera with an infinite number
of parts and characters…
some people can be kind,
some people can be savage –
and yet everyone is a vital instrument
in life’s interstellar-orchestra,
even though some people may not think
that what they say actually matters.
I have always championed diversity,
differences, and variety…
I have always thought that it was both
healthy and necessary to make-believe,
to find something that you love doing,
and to never feel too self-conscious
about doing what makes you happy…
some people listen to music,
some people make music,
some people express their gifts
through art that can be easily shared –
me, I write poetry…
but one thing is for sure:
everybody is meant to be different,
and the world is meant to be
a diverse cornucopia.
My Poem ‘Many voices inside the one’
Daylight is a flash of many colours;
day life is a mass of many choices;
just as a skyscraper
is a single building of many floors,
the light and the dark of the world
can only stay in balance with one another
if there is always a way and a forum
to speak, to sing, and to shout
with the tongue of many voices.
People learn more in the years
that they are a child
than they will ever learn
in the subsequent decades
that they are alive;
a child could literally grow up
to be anybody that they want;
someone who feels inspiration,
as well as sees inspiration,
in themselves and of themselves,
will be an inspiring bright light;
do not ever believe anyone
who tells you that lightning
cannot strike twice;
the people who truly lead the dance of life
do not always do so front the front.
A building must be built;
a person must grow;
every sword must have a hilt;
there must always be something
that you do not know;
a painting must be painted;
a movie must be written, acted,
filmed, edited, orchestrated, and directed;
music must be a conduit of many hearts;
to be funny, a joke –
no matter how many times it is told –
must always be one that makes everybody laugh.
Nobody can ever choose where,
nor to whom, they are born to –
however, if the history of humanity
can teach is anything
it is that birthplace and parentage
are the place, and they are the people,
from where our lives begin,
but they will never be,
nor should they ever be,
where or why our lives come to an end;
throughout our lives,
the voice that we talk and communicate with
changes depending on our ever-changing environment –
like the skin of a chameleon;
we are all somebody of many voices,
not just the one.
markthepoet.me 