She spoke, but they didn’t listen. Except for the other shy girl on the other side of the room. She always listened to her. She was the only one she’d listen to, and she was the only one she spoke to.
I have always wondered why we have the ability to speak as a communication if noone will listen to the other person. I think that you can learn a lot just by paying attention to whom you should be listening to. Be fair and don’t just ignore someone.
i wish that I could always say what I want and actually have some one listen to me. Everyone deserves a voice to be heard and I don’t think that anyone has the right to be deprived of that right. Always let someone tell you what they are feeling and you might just save a life.
Speaking is over rated. You can’t speak with your mouth nearly as well as you can with your eyes.or with your body. You are one big walking conversation.
Words. Language is a powerful thing. Isn’t weird that spoken words are just a string of sounds that people made up so we could communicate with each other. Like to any other thing on the planet (dogs, cats, fish, trees) what sounds come out of our mouths are just weird noises but for us and the people who understand them they have the power to make or break us, to bring joy or destruction, to give or to take away.
Sometimes when people speak it’s just to hear themselves talk. Sometimes it’s saying something to make them feel better about and insecurity within themselves. Always remember people really hear what you are saying. Word’s hurt even the strongest looking people. Some people just hide it more than others.
Speaking is expressing the emotions of the heart, of the head and of the soul. Those who can’t speak and those who won’t speak are grossly disadvantaged. I pity them dearly… oh so dearly…
Speech.
Such a lovely capability that we humans have
with the potential to sprout beauty
and the potental to spew hate and greed and filth.
Speaking is an amazing power, it all depends on how you use it.
I just wish that those who should sew their mouths shut learn to do so
speak the evil.
Im not even afraid to die anymore.
I speak the truth.
I speak my fears.
I speak freedom to slave ears.
should I end my own suffering?
speak the poison that warms my heart
your lies
I fell in love with your lies while lying down thinking that maybe I should kill myself because I am no longer afraid to die because no one listens to the truth anymore anyways.
speak
sing about me when you die.
kill my fears when you tell me.
what i need to hear.
isnt always want i need to hear.
dont be afraid to be specific.
never be afraid to be vicious.
speak everyone has a voice and no one should let any one silence them people should speak out and be heard the worst thing i have done is silenced my self and i will speak my mind and for once get what i want. speaking is one of the best gifts we have the oppertunity to let others know how we feel and what we want its great..
To speak woth someone. Using words. You speak your language. One language, maybe several. You communicate with other humans and make yourself understood. You understand others when they speak. If they speak a language you understand, ofcourse. To speak is a wonderful thing, That’s something you learn in an early age.
“Speak!” he shouted, but the trickster kept his mouth firmly shut. The demon glared at the stubborn captive for a moment before laughing bitterly. “You know that I’ll find out eventually, don’t you? You know that I’ll continue to possess and torture and kill every one of your friends that I have to in order to get this information. But the pain can stop here with you.” He traced Astor’s jaw with his knife. “If you tell me how the phoenix came back.”
Many people speak about how bullying is wrong, it is. Then how come people still do it? I’ve been bullied, and when i told people about it, they said to ignore them. It didn’t work.
One evening the sky was nearly navy. We were on his unlit twin bed, straight on our unbent backs—forearm to forearm.
“Listen to this,” he said, in his rolling human whisperer voice that always tickled me deep below my sternum.
He broke his straight-backed pose to reach over me to click on some forest-screened guided meditation. He had told me that it helped him journey without moving before he slept lately. He either slept as luxuriously and often as a house cat or not at all. He did not often use spectrums—only their utter ends. Which is why, I supposed, the world leaked into him more profoundly. But lately, he had been in cat mode.
He clicked the screen on. Settled back forearm to my forearm. We closed our eyes. Him first, because I liked how he looked with his eyes closed. Much more settled than when they were open. I closed mine and thought of nothing.
A quiet woman’s voice told us things. About a walk in a forest. To step here, step there. Trace the bark. Smell the pine.
At the end of it, he opened his eyes. He asked what I had seen.
I had remembered how my father and I used to watch the liquid blacktail deer behind our beloved house— the silence eloquent.
i love speaking. some people say i speak too much sometimes (and too fast), but i don’t think so. also, the thing i love the most about speaking are all the different languages you can do it in. i am spanish and i’m writing this in english, for example. i also speak catalan and a bit of french. i love speaking. it makes people love each other but it can also make people get angry with each other. the good thing about it is that actually, you can solve the problems you’ve made while speaking, speaking to that person you’ve hurt. it’s wonderful. i hope this is making sense, because sometimes, when i want to say a lot of things at the same time, i get confused and people do too.
It’d be nice to talk to you…
for the first time, my mind is aligned with the words on a page
unprocessed (spurting out)
The you I mean is you-
it’s you, it’s… you, it’s also you;
it’s all these creatures beyond my eyes
(the ones I’ve forgotten, especially).
Tell me something I don’t have to say
So I don’t have to say what is crumbs within me
All those creatures, the you’s, they are something
that melts the magic that’s ceased to occur.
She slipped on the stairs,
Slow and tumbling, the air thick
And suffocating in her throat.
With a scream and curse
She slid, her fingers threatening at
The shiny edges of the banister
Before she landed with a soft
Sigh, unable to
Speak.
Is it time for me to speak? Do I speak words of kindness, or justice and truth? Taking risks is for fools, but aren’t we all fools? Should I continue on speaking in generosity, building you up while you tear me down? Dread fills me, but there’s no turning back now. Every step towards you feels like lead is weighting me down. I’m walking into the fire, and I can’t stop myself. My mouth opens on it’s own and out comes the sword. Hard cold truth comes down on you as I speak. It all pours out, like icy water quenching all traces of that former flame of question in my heart. Now all I am is cold.
I once loved a writer; It drove me insane.
I tore apart every word and was tortured by their pain.
I dissected all her stories like they were fragments of her mind,
Thinking she used them as shields to hide her true self behind.
She found me one night, head aching from the weight
Of the lines that I thought I was forced to translate.
“I made it up in my head,” she promised. “Fiction isn’t true.
Just because I’m a writer doesn’t mean I write about you.”
Don’t speak to me of the unattainable, the noumenon, the 1986 space shuttle challenger now missionless in the annals of easy querying, adaptive self-regulation already defeated by childhood conditioning, Cypher’s self-dooming drooling of steak juice and red wine on planet Matrix, Syd Barrett walking psychotic on the dark side of the moon… Speak to me of putting one foot in front of the other and getting through the day and that being deeply good, meaningful
it’s time, time to speak, time to stop letting everything go unheard, unspoken. don’t let it. now is not the time to stay quiet, to let others enjoy the floor, enjoy the spotlight. you deserve the spot light. your voice is meant to be heard. and do not let anyone tell you otherwise. enjoy those who will actually listen to your voice. they are worth your time. worth your words
speaking is something that people do to express themselves.
The thoughts that come from your mouth when you are thining deeply
or just joking around.
but speaking isn’t always adequate and sometimes there are know words for your feelings
I do not like to speak. My job requires me to speak and communicate with other, I like to listen and laugh.Speaking is important in most occupations. How we are judged in my instance is how well we speak.
Speak. Speak is such a powerful word. For out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks. But more important that speaking is listening. For out of the abundance of the spirit the soul listens.
Air wisp in your face you see white clouds. Speak, speak my dear friend you must end this nightmare of horror. Terror screaming in your ear to hear this is to not want to live you must you must live on dear god………
Speaking happens alot. You do it every day without thinking. If we couldn’t speak, the world would be much quieter. I bet deaf people wonder what it’s like to speak. I read a book called “Speak” in seventh grade. It was about a girl who got raped.
Words are what tie us together in life. Sure we can al jump arounf like crazy trying to communicate with each other but when it comes down to it, words are the easiest way to get a point across. Words define who you are. What you say is who you are as a person. It makes the world go round.
Giving a speech. You are speaking in front of a crowd. A very large crowd. Bu first, they must hear you. Then they must want to listen to what you have to say. You speak and speak and speak. And in the end…they applaud.
Speak up about the things that annoying you; if you think someone has wronged you in some way, or wronged others, you need to speak up. Talking is the only way these worries and fears and your anger will ever get out into the open. We have the ability to speak, we should damn well use it.
‘Speak every time you stand, lest you forget yourself.’ This is what Anis Morjani said in a poem, and it is what I use as my mantra, often. It is important for others to hear your voice, but even more, for YOU to hear your voice. What we speak to ourselves makes us who we are, what we believe, what we can conquer. Do not forget yourself.
She spoke, but they didn’t listen. Except for the other shy girl on the other side of the room. She always listened to her. She was the only one she’d listen to, and she was the only one she spoke to.
I have always wondered why we have the ability to speak as a communication if noone will listen to the other person. I think that you can learn a lot just by paying attention to whom you should be listening to. Be fair and don’t just ignore someone.
i wish that I could always say what I want and actually have some one listen to me. Everyone deserves a voice to be heard and I don’t think that anyone has the right to be deprived of that right. Always let someone tell you what they are feeling and you might just save a life.
Speaking is over rated. You can’t speak with your mouth nearly as well as you can with your eyes.or with your body. You are one big walking conversation.
Words. Language is a powerful thing. Isn’t weird that spoken words are just a string of sounds that people made up so we could communicate with each other. Like to any other thing on the planet (dogs, cats, fish, trees) what sounds come out of our mouths are just weird noises but for us and the people who understand them they have the power to make or break us, to bring joy or destruction, to give or to take away.
Sometimes when people speak it’s just to hear themselves talk. Sometimes it’s saying something to make them feel better about and insecurity within themselves. Always remember people really hear what you are saying. Word’s hurt even the strongest looking people. Some people just hide it more than others.
to speak out your ideas, feelings, loves, fears. you need a voice to make a difference.
Speaking is expressing the emotions of the heart, of the head and of the soul. Those who can’t speak and those who won’t speak are grossly disadvantaged. I pity them dearly… oh so dearly…
He spoke to her as if he had known her for years. In reality he just met her today and if the doctors were right, he would know her for only a week.
Speech.
Such a lovely capability that we humans have
with the potential to sprout beauty
and the potental to spew hate and greed and filth.
Speaking is an amazing power, it all depends on how you use it.
I just wish that those who should sew their mouths shut learn to do so
speak the evil.
Im not even afraid to die anymore.
I speak the truth.
I speak my fears.
I speak freedom to slave ears.
should I end my own suffering?
speak the poison that warms my heart
your lies
I fell in love with your lies while lying down thinking that maybe I should kill myself because I am no longer afraid to die because no one listens to the truth anymore anyways.
speak
sing about me when you die.
kill my fears when you tell me.
what i need to hear.
isnt always want i need to hear.
dont be afraid to be specific.
never be afraid to be vicious.
speak everyone has a voice and no one should let any one silence them people should speak out and be heard the worst thing i have done is silenced my self and i will speak my mind and for once get what i want. speaking is one of the best gifts we have the oppertunity to let others know how we feel and what we want its great..
I don’t want to speak about the word written here. It is too much for me. Really. But if you want to know more… Maybe someone else speaks.
To speak woth someone. Using words. You speak your language. One language, maybe several. You communicate with other humans and make yourself understood. You understand others when they speak. If they speak a language you understand, ofcourse. To speak is a wonderful thing, That’s something you learn in an early age.
“Speak!” he shouted, but the trickster kept his mouth firmly shut. The demon glared at the stubborn captive for a moment before laughing bitterly. “You know that I’ll find out eventually, don’t you? You know that I’ll continue to possess and torture and kill every one of your friends that I have to in order to get this information. But the pain can stop here with you.” He traced Astor’s jaw with his knife. “If you tell me how the phoenix came back.”
Many people speak about how bullying is wrong, it is. Then how come people still do it? I’ve been bullied, and when i told people about it, they said to ignore them. It didn’t work.
One evening the sky was nearly navy. We were on his unlit twin bed, straight on our unbent backs—forearm to forearm.
“Listen to this,” he said, in his rolling human whisperer voice that always tickled me deep below my sternum.
He broke his straight-backed pose to reach over me to click on some forest-screened guided meditation. He had told me that it helped him journey without moving before he slept lately. He either slept as luxuriously and often as a house cat or not at all. He did not often use spectrums—only their utter ends. Which is why, I supposed, the world leaked into him more profoundly. But lately, he had been in cat mode.
He clicked the screen on. Settled back forearm to my forearm. We closed our eyes. Him first, because I liked how he looked with his eyes closed. Much more settled than when they were open. I closed mine and thought of nothing.
A quiet woman’s voice told us things. About a walk in a forest. To step here, step there. Trace the bark. Smell the pine.
At the end of it, he opened his eyes. He asked what I had seen.
I had remembered how my father and I used to watch the liquid blacktail deer behind our beloved house— the silence eloquent.
“Green,” I’d said.
our conversations
lazy stretching into the dark
the sound of
getting to know myself again.
words spill over the edge of your lips
something we won’t remember
but for faint watermarks left
on the coffee table.
i love speaking. some people say i speak too much sometimes (and too fast), but i don’t think so. also, the thing i love the most about speaking are all the different languages you can do it in. i am spanish and i’m writing this in english, for example. i also speak catalan and a bit of french. i love speaking. it makes people love each other but it can also make people get angry with each other. the good thing about it is that actually, you can solve the problems you’ve made while speaking, speaking to that person you’ve hurt. it’s wonderful. i hope this is making sense, because sometimes, when i want to say a lot of things at the same time, i get confused and people do too.
It’d be nice to talk to you…
for the first time, my mind is aligned with the words on a page
unprocessed (spurting out)
The you I mean is you-
it’s you, it’s… you, it’s also you;
it’s all these creatures beyond my eyes
(the ones I’ve forgotten, especially).
Tell me something I don’t have to say
So I don’t have to say what is crumbs within me
All those creatures, the you’s, they are something
that melts the magic that’s ceased to occur.
She slipped on the stairs,
Slow and tumbling, the air thick
And suffocating in her throat.
With a scream and curse
She slid, her fingers threatening at
The shiny edges of the banister
Before she landed with a soft
Sigh, unable to
Speak.
Is it time for me to speak? Do I speak words of kindness, or justice and truth? Taking risks is for fools, but aren’t we all fools? Should I continue on speaking in generosity, building you up while you tear me down? Dread fills me, but there’s no turning back now. Every step towards you feels like lead is weighting me down. I’m walking into the fire, and I can’t stop myself. My mouth opens on it’s own and out comes the sword. Hard cold truth comes down on you as I speak. It all pours out, like icy water quenching all traces of that former flame of question in my heart. Now all I am is cold.
‘Speak.’
‘Sir, I…’
‘Speak now.’
‘Sir… what is it you want me to say?’
‘The truth. Speak the truth.’
I once loved a writer; It drove me insane.
I tore apart every word and was tortured by their pain.
I dissected all her stories like they were fragments of her mind,
Thinking she used them as shields to hide her true self behind.
She found me one night, head aching from the weight
Of the lines that I thought I was forced to translate.
“I made it up in my head,” she promised. “Fiction isn’t true.
Just because I’m a writer doesn’t mean I write about you.”
speak,
quietly,
tell them words you know,
but the ones they don’t.
don’t allude to anger,
keep your voice steady,
speak with an even tone.
even mind.
speak,
loudly,
it is your voice.
let it be known.
Don’t speak to me of the unattainable, the noumenon, the 1986 space shuttle challenger now missionless in the annals of easy querying, adaptive self-regulation already defeated by childhood conditioning, Cypher’s self-dooming drooling of steak juice and red wine on planet Matrix, Syd Barrett walking psychotic on the dark side of the moon… Speak to me of putting one foot in front of the other and getting through the day and that being deeply good, meaningful
it’s time, time to speak, time to stop letting everything go unheard, unspoken. don’t let it. now is not the time to stay quiet, to let others enjoy the floor, enjoy the spotlight. you deserve the spot light. your voice is meant to be heard. and do not let anyone tell you otherwise. enjoy those who will actually listen to your voice. they are worth your time. worth your words
I speak of worlds and people that don’t exist. Keeping them to myself from the fear of them being torn away. I don’t speak what I want to say.
speaking is something that people do to express themselves.
The thoughts that come from your mouth when you are thining deeply
or just joking around.
but speaking isn’t always adequate and sometimes there are know words for your feelings
I do not like to speak. My job requires me to speak and communicate with other, I like to listen and laugh.Speaking is important in most occupations. How we are judged in my instance is how well we speak.
Speak. Speak is such a powerful word. For out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks. But more important that speaking is listening. For out of the abundance of the spirit the soul listens.
Air wisp in your face you see white clouds. Speak, speak my dear friend you must end this nightmare of horror. Terror screaming in your ear to hear this is to not want to live you must you must live on dear god………
Speaking happens alot. You do it every day without thinking. If we couldn’t speak, the world would be much quieter. I bet deaf people wonder what it’s like to speak. I read a book called “Speak” in seventh grade. It was about a girl who got raped.
Talking is the universes way of communicating. Most often people use it in storys. Speak is a unique word.
Words are what tie us together in life. Sure we can al jump arounf like crazy trying to communicate with each other but when it comes down to it, words are the easiest way to get a point across. Words define who you are. What you say is who you are as a person. It makes the world go round.
Giving a speech. You are speaking in front of a crowd. A very large crowd. Bu first, they must hear you. Then they must want to listen to what you have to say. You speak and speak and speak. And in the end…they applaud.
Speak up about the things that annoying you; if you think someone has wronged you in some way, or wronged others, you need to speak up. Talking is the only way these worries and fears and your anger will ever get out into the open. We have the ability to speak, we should damn well use it.
At
He spoke at, not to
He laughed at, not with
He smiled at, not to
He kicked at, not to
He spat at, not passed
He looked through, not at
‘Speak every time you stand, lest you forget yourself.’ This is what Anis Morjani said in a poem, and it is what I use as my mantra, often. It is important for others to hear your voice, but even more, for YOU to hear your voice. What we speak to ourselves makes us who we are, what we believe, what we can conquer. Do not forget yourself.