My Voice

My voice gives air to my lungs

But words explain the breeze

When I speak it sends waves across the sea

A louder voice is one of an earthquake

You can’t break my words, they are hard as stone

Flows like lava, my voice will be known.

My Voice

My voice is a fire hydrant ready to burst.

It’s very loud and firm.

It flows like a stream into the open world.

Shouting to anyone that has listening ears.

Like a horn waiting to go off.

Like a lion roaring in the wild.

Like a King yelling at his peasants.

My voice is the King.

It’s the sound of a car crash.

It’s the sound of a door slamming.

It is loud, very loud.

Like the sound of a tornado storm.

It gives fear.

It scares the mice outta fields.

It stops people from what they’re doing.

It has more strength than a semi truck.

It is my voice.


My voice is a father of two

not three

my voice is something else I’m waiting to see

where can it be

to hear my great speech at church

or at home

I’m waiting to see a father-to-be

dream big like a tree

it is so hard for me

but I gotta get out of these streets

My Voice, Sweet as a Red Apple

My voice is sweet as a red apple

and running to be heard

it can get loud

it can be proud

and sometimes it can get angry

when angry its also cranky

when the voice is up it can go down fast

it likes positive things and hates the negative

the sun makes it shine

and the moon makes it whine

when it yells you can tell

my mood is swell

and when it goes back

my voice is sweet

as a red apple.

My Voice

My voice is deep not soft

it is low not high

My voice is different

it makes me feel alive

My voice is powerful and calm

like the fish in the sea

My voice will be joyful

when I get free.




My voice is not sweet like Kool-aid. No.

Not no candy, not no sugar, not no brown sugar. No.

It is the sound of spitting game. Yes.

It is years in the making. Yes.

It is not low like a whisper and it is not loud like a party. No.

It is the sound of courage, and it is the sound of suave. Yes.

It is not blaring. It is not calm. No.

It is Southern. It is me. Yes.

Let’s Be Heard

My voice is smart as in sassy,

sweet like sugar cereal.

My voice is a roar when I’m mean.

My voice is the voice of a college instructor.

It’s full of laughter and hope

for a better tomorow.

My voice is sweet as a red apple and running

ahead to be heard faster.

My voice is big like a giant,

raspy like a one-man riot.