Writer’s Voice

What is a writer's voice?

Is it the way speak or the way we write?

The inflection we use,

The grammar we choose,

Whether we write at day or at night,

Is our writer's voice something in which we have a choice?

The sky is dark; there are shadows on the ground,

The sky is black like ink; lights cast shadows on the the pavement below,

Neither sentence is better than the other,

But one might highlight a point where the other might smother,

Both are something I would use to show;

That by one voice only I would not wish to be bound.

Darkness and pain,

Blood dripping to the floor,

A tidal wave of sadness flows through me,

Looking to the future and all I can see,

Is another closed door,

Blackness on my soul, and ugly stain.

A gentle caress,

A shiver of lust,

One look at you, my heart skips a beat,

One look from you, you knock me off my feet,

Lightness of touching, trying not to combust,

A question posed, the only answer; yes.

Both writes are wholly and completely me,

And there are many more in between,

Not only poetry but story and song,

For a writer's voice there can be no right or wrong.

Different styles of writing published since before I was a teen,

My writers voice changes like the colours on a tree.