August 13: "Silence," Complete Silence, Poetry Reading

I generally don't do well with silence.  In the car, I usually have a podcast or audiobook playing.  In my office, I play music or read things aloud or have lengthy conversations with coworkers, musicians, writers, and presenters.  At home, the sound of the TV is a constant presence, like the smell of ham on Christmas morning.  At night, I listen to my son swearing at his gaming friends in his attic room as I drift into slumber.

I know what you're thinking:  don't you need silence when you try to write a poem or essay or story?  The simple answer to that question is "yes."  The more complete answer to that question is that there's no such thing as complete silence in my life.  If I'm typing a blog post, there's the tap-tap-tap of my fingers on the keyboard.  If I'm working on a poem, there's the scratch of the pen nib on paper and (sometimes) me quietly reading lines to an invisible audience, testing the poetic waters, if you will.

Every once in a while, I do need to remove myself from the loudness of life.  This past summer, I had no classes to teach at the university, and I had PTO I needed to use or lose at the library.  So, I've had a lot of time to enjoy a less noisy existence.  

Billy Collins meditates on . . . 

Silence

by: Billy Collins

There is the sudden silence of the crowd

above a motionless player on the field,

and the silence of the orchid.

The silence of the falling vase

before it strikes the floor,

the silence of the belt when it is not striking the child.

The stillness of the cup and the water in it,

the silence of the moon

and the quiet of the day far from the roar of the sun.

The silence when I hold you to my chest,

the silence of the window above us,

and the silence when you rise and turn away.

And there is the silence of this morning

which I have broken with my pen,

a silence that had piled up all night

like snow falling in the darkness of the house--

the silence before I wrote a word

and the poorer silence now.

Poets need silence in order to create the noise of poetry.  That's right, I said noise.  Poetry is an oral art form.  In order to fully engage in a poem, you must read it aloud.  Feel it on your tongue, in your ears.  Until you do that, you haven't truly experienced poetry.

Tonight, I traveled to a nearby town to participate in a reading at a local bookstore.  From 6 p.m. to 8 p.m., I listened to poetry and music by some of my closest friends.  The place was crowded, but not with literary fans.  Everyone was stopping by the store to pick up some hand-dipped ice cream, and they lingered to listen to a few songs and poems while they were eating.  I sold a couple books and read a few poems.

I just got back home a little while ago.  I'm beat.  Tomorrow, I perform again at another venue.  

In the meantime, Saint Marty is going to enjoy a little silence right now.  Or he might watch a movie.