Shawn L. Bird

I am here

to listen.

I want to savour each word

of the story you create

to make meaning of the world.

I am here

to listen.

I want your words to come

clear on the air

to my ear,

each one a gift.

I want to listen

So speak your passion

in whispers and shouts

enunciated

truncated

dissipated

like leaves in fall

wisked away by wind.

I want to capture each one

so your story

becomes part of my story,

so I can raise my voice

sing my song,

tell my tale.

We share together:

I am;

hear.

.

.

Tonight I was at the Shuswap Association of Writers Coffee House, presented annually in conjunction with Word on the Lake Festival of Readers and Writers.  I heard some amazing writers and poets read, some were easier to appreciate than others.  I like when the poet savours his/her words, and crafts the reading like a performance piece, so you can experience the poem.  I dislike when a poet tosses off meaningless dribble, and then explains it, and the explanation is a better poem than the poem, itself.  Bad form, famous poet, bad form.  There was great stuff to enjoy, though, as there always is.