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.
Shawn L. Bird 