Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2011


by Rebecca Pursell

Our whispers go unheard,
Like the gentle sound of what a leaf makes as it hits the ground,
Whispers of help,
Whispers of sorrow,
Whispers of pain,
We only hear the things that are good to us in life,
The roars of laughter,
Cheers of joy,
Songs of praise,
As the whispers fly over, along with the wind that sweeps the ocean,
Black clouds cover only a part of our lost souls,
We will only ever hear the lost whispers,
When we feel the pain of those that go unheard

Added: 30.01.2011