Voz

A man differs from a beast in that he speaks.
Animals merely roar, call and screech;
But a man can tell tales of the highest peaks
Sing the songs to many hearts' reach.

Express innate soul in stanzas and verse
And birth change in empowered pitch.
So today we celebrate newly given voice
For the people given humanity in speech.

Hopefully the nations will stop being beasts
And decide fate with voz and not garras.

-Wren

Past Works

Okay I'm totally copping out today, and posting you some of my favourite poems I've written so far. :) Hope you enjoy them.

Lemon Ginger Tea 
Death of Butterfly 
Moment's Momentum
Tabasco
Flu
World is Hell

Best of luck with your exams,

-Wren

Rooibos and Apples

Scent of mid-fall picked apple
Crisp snap off the branches
Shiny skin glimmering crimson
With the acid and sweetness.
Infused with mellow-black tint
Of rooibos blossoms' nuttiness.
Like a midnight bonfire smoke
And dreams brewed thick.
Ahora, tomo un sorbo té con azucar.
Sweet and fragrant as cane sugar.

-Wren

Screen

Sitting tilted postured afront this screen
I see the line blink black and gone across
A blank report yet to be thought or seen
Neglected like a wet rock growing moss.

The essay demands itself to be written
To be born, to enlight, and to be graded.
Merely a slave, I grudgingly be bitten
By bitter whiplashes of time ticking
Of the overseer wall clock's serenade.

Blank screen still mocks. Oh, Puck.
I scribble a piece worthy of muck.

-Wren

Pen

Inking darkness line by line,
Flanking sharp midst of white,
My tool of expression sublime
On the paper shows its might.

For she glides gracefully through
With footprints of words rain,
I reaps what my hand sows
From his tango with my pen remains.

A painful duet, a wonderous dance.
Weapon of art, dark-tipped lance.

Wren

Parallel Clouds

Floating freely in lucid blue sky

Above the soft warm cloud below
Sometimes the tenderness is missed

Like the mystique held by mists.

We had our updrafts and downbursts.

What potential novels we'd write

When the parallel clouds meet?

Some songs are never written.

A hurricane we'd never make.

Some clouds are never meant

To spin into a dust tornado.

Did you know the alphabets 

Never arranged U and I together?

Law of grammatica kept us apart.

I'd blame God on those days.

But in my solemnest moments

I'd realize we'd need to remove

J, K, L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T

We'd not able to spell "happy"

If we were ever together.

Some clouds are never destined

To form into a thunderstorm.

A volatile chemical reaction 

Plenty of collisions and lesions

But I an enzyme, simple catalyst

End of every pathways still 

Still separate, disparate story.

Cross me out from beginning

And end, while you react away.

Work up away into nothingness.

Leave me exhaust and same

Before the reaction even begun.

Some clouds are never meant

To connect into a hurricane.

-Wren