Learn more about other poetry terms

Can you hear me I know I am quiet I can be overlooked Not one to shout above the noise Too afraid to speak my mind I find a place where I can shine Words on the paper Free like birds
Why do I have to deal with this? This pain with which I can not burden others How do I fight to be seen? When I also fight to hide I need hope But it has fallen away I need peace
To speak but not to be heard.
I am so very quiet You might not know I am there But I am your listening ear I'm there to hear your problems I hear to show I care Just call my name Tell me your shame And once you're done
Peace. Love. Happiness.  Remsembles all my wants. My 'already haves' sofficated, buried six feet under my soul.
Do You really want to know  who I am?  You want to read my poems so that you Don't  
The connection from mind to
My ears captured the bells from afar. Though my eyes rest,I know exactly where we are. I can feel the throbbing pain, before I even stand. Why must I wear these? Who exactly am I trying to be,
If everyone saw who I really am, I can't, I won't, must hide.
A hushed, resigned, tailor Observed, a noiseless, patient spider spin, Past Apollo's race, With needlework of kin, Our pace pulls in the dawn.  
The riddles that ring,like the telephones from now and the pastThe dialing of the words that spin in a continuous circle, they always lastAnd when you answerYou want to know why they called
  When asked for a poem, what do I write? Are there words that inspire, kindle, ignite Passion and action let pages incite Although I lack either, I’ll still take flight.  
"Speak up!" They say, "You're too quiet."
ten thousand bullets headed your way  what do you do? run and have hope you'll make it out alive? or just stand there and wait for the outcome?   the first couple of hits might hurt like hell 
My voice is not loud My voice is not proud And my voice is not like the crowd  
I wonder what would happen if WE. BOUNCE. BACK Like the elasticity of elastic bands being stretched by heavy hands Lassoing nappy strands running amuck like wild stallions We, are wild ones
Soft spoken, quiet, eagle scout, First born child, birth order pushed down. Four adopted sisters came along. I attempted to speak out, They quieted me down. Sang with them in church,
As I sit down once again, in front of the old computer with the whirring fan My fingers begin to hit the black keys, each one a small click That make an musical orchestra of words  
Today is the day I will be heard Today I will emerge out of this shyness I will let the world know I no longer will stand injustice!   Today is the day I will be heard Today I will say
Oh the anguish I feel in my spine Everytime you tell me "You do as I say". Yes, I was in your belly for nine months it seems,  But am I your puppet that you can control as you please?
The dark and lonely atmosphere filled the air
She sits and remembers all that has past The things that were said and every laugh She thinks about how she heard what they were saying But then she thinks about how she listened to her heart without betraying
To be heard is to be Waldo, found at last To be heard is to be the smallest person in any given room with the most passion of any given person
I do not speak loud
What do you want to do when you grow up? Fire fighter! Veterinarian! Actress! At a young age we all begin our long journey to finding the right job, As years progress we realize just how important that decision is.
I am from a small city with BIG DREAMS. I am from lost faith and lost hope. I am from pot heads and crack feens.
Nothing seems to work Nothing could ever be said I am never heard   Nobody can hear Nobody will listen now I am never heard   Silence is comfort Silence is my company
I'm running, but going nowhere. I need help. Help me try to get through all these nightmares that keep racing through my mind. How long will it last? Someone, anyone, help me.  
Every thought. Every dream, every hope, every fear unheard- silently hidden within one's self. A soft, slow grumble tumbling up and courageously out- voiced through lead and chalk, ink and paper. No longer a thought.
Nevermind that your scared! Give me truth! Give me the first thought Not the nice thought! You, I want you! Not a mask of polite-niceness I want the hammer that breaks the rock Give me truth!
Afraid, Lost, Judgmental, Crestfallen: These are the reason why many are afraid to speak up. Poetry allows are voices to be heard, Without worrying about others beating us down. Poetry allows an escape,
Poetry is not the fashioning of words, it is the forging of swords. Poetry is not the stanzas or the verse, it is the carriage or hearse. Poetry is not just some thoughts to a rhyme, it is the journal of time.
It is all said with silence Although no words are spoken, a million words are heard Words of disappointment, shame and failure Words that ignite discouragement and extinguish pride
Subscribe to heard