My Voice Poem by Alexandrian Ink

Poor prince, barking among the howling hounds
Whose futile clamour, without season resounds
To gain attention and that he be heard
High pitched his voice, theirs be overshadowed;
Ah, thy voice goes high yet unheard fair prince,
Come; be acquainted of the strength in silence.

Empty vessels, the highest noise make;
Like a scarecrow designed to forsake,
Frighten and chase away birds of prey;
Wherein vile and shallow its depth does lay;
So will he who love to speak all the time
His voice, though eloquent, will lose its prime.

In silence, lies wisdom and might,
Its witty power in the fairest bright;
So is my voice in silence refined
Which bears due honor, not profaned,
It comes but once, in wisdom knit
And every ear fights to hear it.

My voice shrill like the nocturnal cry
That the tick night pierced, in velocity high,
It goes forth like a panacea, to strengthen the weak
Solving all that importunate seek;
For my voice is not made of vaunting might
But mild, but rare, immersed in silence's strength.

Ali Alexon

Jan.24 - 2018