In a Quiet Voice

By Wallace Collins

In a Quiet Voice is a collection of essays, free verse and stories the writer presents retrospectively as writings he recorded over time. His essays are historical with short stories buttressed and heightened by free verse. The writer dedicates this Word Imagery to the reader as narrative that flows through the book like red wine into the readers

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Mar 31, 2014
• ISBN: 9781491729137

Wallace Collins

Wallace Collins is the author of twelve books, and now, after some years of writing has completed this journal. Born in Kingston Jamaica, he lived in London and Toronto, before moving to New York, where he is a graduate of Queens College.

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IN A QUIET VOICE

Copyright © 2014 Wallace Collins.

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ISBN: 978-1-4917-2912-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-2913-7 (e)

iUniverse rev. date: 03/27/2014

Contents

Introduction

Foreword

The Humbling

In A Hallowed Tone

In A Mellow Tone

Notes:

The Confessional

Hymn And Her

Synopsis For A Short Story

Kingston, Jamaica

A Work Force

Midnight Sun

Dinner At Eight

Lost And Found

Open Journal

Normalcy

I Want To Talk About You

Here And There

No More

Getting To Know You

Day Into Night

Listen Up-It’s Music

Home Alone

Blue And Green

Roaring Sea

The Fledgling

Inner City Blues

Ya-Ya

Strawman

Brilliant Edges And Soft Corners

Donna

The Infinate Edge

Gone Home

Ghosts

Farewell

Story Line: In A Mellow Tone

Tough Love

What?

A Life

Images

A Mother’s Child

Introduction

Word / Imagery

For instance, In a Quiet Voice is a collection of Images and Impressions the writer creates and edits as his story of word imagery in free verse. His alter ego assumes the role of the reader as he dedicates Word / Imagery to the reader who gives countenance to the author for his narrative that flows through the story like liquor poured into the reader’s wine glass. The reader thus swills the red wine in his glass while he celebrates the author for his collection of fictional and biographical libations that reflects in his wine glass. Slowly, he tilts his head with pride and assumes his role of reveler while he raises his goblet and drinks to the author for using sparse narrative in his imagery.

He bubbles with words that fill his wine glass where he becomes loquacious while he sips the wine and salutes the writer for his depictions that highlights free verse and illuminates fiction. Whereupon, he focuses on the author’s intent and his endeavor to target prose into free verse that attracts the reveler in him and his bravado while he swills the blood-red-wine in his goblet and drinks to the author’s narrative. He burps as he imbibes the rich red wine, and then, he sips it loudly to amplify the sound and glory he salutes in the author’s narrative. Now that he has liberated himself from sobriety, he raises his glass and toasts the author for his prose and the free verse he culled in his loquacious verbal excursions of his past, his present presence, and in the future.

Instantaneously, the reader slurps this prosaic libation as he takes on an image of the saga man. He mumbles his toast to the author and nods to the biographical images before him that emerges from what he reads as fictional impressions the author uses to create and promote a reality guide to his fiction. The reader concludes that the author has intensified fictional segments of his work by yielding to his rush of consciousness in his prose that runs concurrently, if not, spontaneously with free verse. He sees how the writer applies clichés to tempo the rhythm of his colloquialism, his shtick of the creative writer, poet and a raconteur. The reader is conditioned then to the author’s narrative, enough that he sees where the author assume literary license for himself as he plays words with harmony against dissonance. All of which gives the reader wiggle room to dance to the rhythm and beat of the author’s narrative that he propels into a spontaneous hip movement and in time with the irregular beat of the author’s ambitious prose.

To be sure, the reveler smacks his lips then moistens them as he savors the author’s prose, how it flows asymmetrically and contrasts the narrative depiction of his characters and their situations against free verse. The reader gels with the intensity of the author’s prose; it projects a spontaneous rush of the author’s consciousness that runs concurrently with his free verse. What he reads, ebbs with the irregular flow of words and images that contrasts the author’s depiction of characters and their situations against his word imagery; they emerge as words and imageries that evokes a portrait, as in: Intruders, do not enter the mind / of the unborn, child in the womb of thought.

Thereupon, the reader, in his verbal stupor, drains his glass and drinks to the author’s prose that gives prominence to free verse. Now, in his eventual sobriety, the reader points to the imagery and the melody the author trumpets; it reflects the Impressions and Imageries the author plays in the riffs behind the solo below as exemplified by entries from his journals, buttressed by the tonal riffs of,

Miles! His horn trumpets a mellow call

A lyrical cry from tarnished brass inside the hall

Notes that sing to the bereaved, bereft of hope,

His pain, hate and joy, in one, long, whole note.

Ennui’s true refrain bears the heat

And attracts the fire that engulfs the beat

It embraces nineteen in two, in assonance, bursts

Stress in four, four times with tones of poetic firsts.

His whole notes fire a fervor that cools the coda.

Miles creates licks that instill a mood of peace,

That strokes the soul and caress the sense—sublime.

Foreword

Let verse be free wherever you (be) is the writer’s use of (be) as an optional address to champion, and or convey, his free will. It reflects a secular idiom that the writer employs, enabling a grammatical shift that conveys choice, as it is to embrace the good the bad and the ugly to determine as mordant irreligious stance. The Humbling as the subtitle suggests, substantiates spirituality in the verse that conveys a secular motif for In a Quiet Voice that depicts, if not heightens the spirituality of the faithful as sacrosanct.

The writer use words to heighten the rhythm and sound of free verse to express his unconventional ideas. He uses words to convey his original and eccentric views, all of which is devoid of accepted usage of language, mealy to convey a view and his usage of free verse. Thus, it speaks of one who believes completely in the majesty of Jesus Christ, and one who has no desire to disobey God’s laws—the Ten Commandments. Loyalty to his reverence demands that he remains loyal to the sacred teachings of Jesus Christ and against that of the profane, as Satan’s plot to induce someone to his earthly view of the world and faiths abound.

To be sure, (be) is used also as a substitute of the plural verb (are) as grammatically incorrect, equally as it presents a calculated opposition to the other side of Eden as related in the good book, upholds to the laws of man and his rationale. The rational is to point to the other side of Heaven, as it is here on earth. The poem, in its totality, reflects a view that reorients the faithful that evil is never good; it is an abomination to the Lord. The writer acquires this dictum as man’s easy way out into doing evil deeds, while the other is an accepted fact of man willing to save himself to attain the kingdom of Heaven and embrace the God given Heaven of his congregation.

Free verse written in third person, with a theme, that reflects the Good, the Bad and ultimately, the denouement or conclusion and resolution between good and evil. The result of which speaks to a Senator, as Yes, I can do my job, and to the Representative’s as no can do, give them hell. Which occasions a prayer to ask God for his forbearance and his blessings, and to give God praise for his holiness that?

Moves onto his creation in free verse as His giving life to all

Which progresses one of the recipients, the good the bad and the indifferent congressman, as well as the good senator, right unto a mother and her young child in his childish behavior to his mom and ultimately to the world as a whole

The theme, stretched out into the core of the poem, reveals the seamy side of life as that of the devil’s delights to manipulate a woman, the woman of the night, to do his biddings by soliciting her Dear Johns.

It is a theme stretched out when invitations for a meal, awarded to the innocent by the devil. As such, it sits not as a reaction from rich and poor sinners to attend the evil gala while Satan mimics the blessing of the Lord’s Supper. He wrestles with God by way of free will of which he abets and challenges man to be. Challenges of which the writer accepts In A Quit Voice his scant autobiography and inner thoughts of understanding himself and others.

The Humbling

Let verse be free wherever you be

It is there to see and read with glee

Do not pretend that you are all at sea

Deal with it as if you are in reverie

Shout it out; it is your visceral slam,

Words crush rambling shams over the chasm

You rise out of the gulf onto the ledge

Where in His Glorious Presence you kneel,

You ask His forgiveness within His keel

God glorifies the spirit from the edge

Let verse be free from wherever you be

It is there to see and read with glee

Shout it out; it is a visceral slam of words

God’s heavenly silhouette sanctifies a purge

Earthly chaos challenge a life of piety

Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord

He will lift you up, the humbling to purity

You walk quietly, tall against angles of the night

Be Humble in the Lords presence and He will honor you.

Now we are replete with faith in His glorious spirit

We lower our heads in God’s Glorious Presence,

In addition, pray to build our faith under His spiritual keel

Oh All-Mighty Jehovah God, Father of Our Lord Jesus Christ

You have blessed us with your loving kindness, for us to be Fruitful and multiply, and to fill the earth and govern it.

Reign over the fish in the sea, the birds of the sky, and all Animals that scurry along the ground and fill the earth.

God truly cares about the spirit he instills in us

You murmur and you utter in awe, as you worship Him,

Dear God, I am humbled by your heavenly commands of me.

I have accomplished all that you ask of me to fulfill

Your earthly creation I hold sacrosanct with peace and love

Dear God, I will keep my covenant with you, for evermore.

Hallelujah. Amen

In A Hallowed Tone

God creates the humble life in all of us; ah yes, He does!

He grants life to those in rags and tags, and bless the meek

He bestows good will on Legislators to plead bills, enacts laws

He confers life onto the ample body of Senators in test’s State.

God gives life to her consequential multiplicity as mother

She suckles her young; she nurtures the child, it walks,

It talks, then say gaga; she endures his bold immature spirit

And ponders his fate and his civility with others in the city

God bequeaths life in us as the human race no color or creed

But blesses all our ethnicity, our station in life, high and low,

The CEO of a humongous company, the largest in the USA and in

The world and beyond in the cosmos, and the stars above, shine;

God breathes life in us his human image, in his form we appear.

As sinless souls come to his spiritual festivity for redemption

By invitation only from Jesus Christ Who breaks bread with us

His mighty Glory enters the house as we joust with Satan’s sin

A devout house, Heaven sent for us, clean and dressed in white

Sharkskin suit, white sneakers, sunshades shield eyes—Yes!

In addition, he bequeaths life to a woman’s solicitations

Red mini tube dress hugs her as she barters with Dear John.

They that seek the Lord understand all things: Circumstance Determines facts as she waves her assets in lewd of evening’s Arrears that favors her, and all comers in her role; she flashes it for all to see, her post-op the filly prances in the paddock her odds favor a short gallop on to the stretch on sin-track

She shifts her hips ass-tutely, when she comes and sees you,

Where she blooms in the garden of crotons and lilies god blessed

You can now pick the flowers from my compost heap, she says

Her jasmine odiferous scents open for nostrils with a heady brew

Mascara eyes in focus to hell and back, your price for sin-orgy

God’s life is in a woman as she sashays on her assets, holy—less!

Waves it for Johnny comes lately who ogles at her soft struts

The liquor store on the corner, the root of all-evil that hurts

Johnny respects her sham Eden of to Hell and back, God bless,

You ask His forgiveness for your hellish ways to make a living

And emerged confident that you can face the world in His giving

The idea that you He made you see everything He made you know

You pay homage to Him and now you are in His spiritual world.

God breathes life into that woman, a mortal of the night no less.

The congregation frowns and groans at the clothes she wears Slinky, sheath dress, hugs her ample goods that flaunts her Assets, crowned by dreadlocks, curls and cornrows, au-natural

You remain unrepentant for your sinful ways; you prayed to Him

For your survival, you emerge with much energy and Confident

You do it for your survival that enables you to emerge, rise up

From under the sheets of your liar to face the world, anew.

Self-assured that you have all the answers for living the life

It is for your ultimate survival in a hardy macho world, where

All those who hate you as the devil’s advocate, but for your Johns. Go to hell, for now I have the answer from God for all your problems

For all you asked of Him that you need to cherish in His glory,

In His righteousness, His love, and in his Holy Spirit you bask

Forgive her Lord. Her game mocks your loving kindness, yes!

A blessed cleric asks to dine with his clerkship after his prayer

He invites the poor the rich the good and the bad, God’s Chillum,

Believers in You, our Savior in faith hope, charity the sacrament

His reverence does carry water for yesterday and today’s follies

The confessional is tomorrow’s rue of the innocent sinner, aghast

Comes to Him humbly, kneeling in the City of Angels—Hallelujah

A bite into the Big Apple with love, and looks straight ahead

He is black but comely, a shepherd of the moral majority’s choice

Not the god as purported, but the humble Christian that he is

The audacious alien comes lately down the Street in the Hood

Nary Wall Street where charity fails, as it is in Washington,

Where roaming Eagles rein; the Devil may care for all—comers

Come all to my unofficial dinner, to feed the being with veal with spiritual vittles, to participate and devour this meal

Of self-righteousness, as Satan’s gimmick he set aside by evil.

God breathes life in us His wards, for us humans to reveal

From castle, to mansion, a penthouse to condo, the apartment

Man creates superfluous rooms in his luxury high-rise basement

To boot a single room occupancy, or to dwell in urban ghetto,

He rules, the consequence of the fruit he bears to Him—ditto

We pray, dear God and ask for your forbearance and blessing

Praise God for creation that affords our life less distressing

Genuflect and pray for His forbearance and his blessing, dear God

He is the recipient of the good and the bad as backsliders nod

To the Congressman, No-Can-Do, and Senator, Yes-Will-Do, aligns with mother and child, who struggles with his childish behavior to ditch

for it onto his mom and to the world as he accounts to all of himself.

His Glorious Presence we kneel to Jehovah God, our Father, pray thee

Of Our Lord Jesus Christ bless us with your loving kindness for us to be "Fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and govern it

Reign over the fish in the sea, the birds of the sky, and all Animals that scurry along the ground and fill the earth."

Dear God, lead me, guide me along the way, for if you lead me

I cannot stray Lord, let me walk each day with thee, Lead me,

Oh Lord lead me, I feel humbled by your heavenly commands.

I have accomplished most of all you ask of me to fill my hands,

I rave at your creation of life in a world of peace and love

All from above, but that man ablaze with black fire, iced

No emotional or spiritual harmony unlike ice caps sufficed

Floats in a black fire ablaze in path downstream from above

Scorched the grass, you have no harmony, you are void of enmity

My emotional harmony with you sustains my spirituality

Dear God, I will keep this covenant with you In a Quiet Voice for evermore.

Amen

August 9, 1966 4:25 p.m., Toronto. Canada:

In retrospect, the following speaks to my function as a writer of how and why I write when I print the final copy of my manuscript, THE INNOCENT AND THE DAMNED (SHADOWS AND REFLECTIONS).

I made these notes after seized by a certain ecstasy that enhances a great feeling in me. I want to deal honestly with an enduring problem in me of being shy, if not a humble complex. Just thinking about the depth of how I interpret ideas would bring moisture to my eyes. I would feel charged with an inexplicable emotion that makes me know that this is the sign from which I must write.

All of which made me proclaimed in my first book, JAMAICAN MIGRANT published in 1964 by Rutledge and Kegan Paul of how free I had become in England after my travel from Jamaica. Immediately after its publication, and in my experience with the ensuing publicity, coupled with my ignorance of the true functions as a writer I withdrew