Deeply listening to what is within and around us changes us. ~John Fox
I’ve tried to write to the sound of music.
It doesn’t work for me.
I create better in silence.
Although there really isn’t such a thing.
It’s when I’m silent that I hear the sounds of silence.
Silence makes you attentive to the tiniest sound underfoot, helps you hear the pulse of your heart . . . If God were to show up and speak, like he did to Elijah after the wind died down and the silence ensued, you might have a chance to hear God’s voice. Unfortunately, we’re culturally primed to avoid silence. ~L.L. Barkat in God in the Yard, p. 82-83
When I’m silent, I hear things like:
- The pit-pit-pit-pitta-pit-pit-pit of ice melting from the eaves.
- The song of the chicka-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee.
- The distant whoosh of traffic like wind through trees across a mountain peak.
- The rumble of a tractor pulling a load of firewood.
- A nearby CAW-CAW.
- The creak-creak of the vinyl-covered porch ceiling.
- The slurp of steaming tea.
- A rooster’s crow.
- The flutter of birds’ wings as they come and go from the feeders.
- The hum of the fridge and the whir of the wood stove fan.
And I’m attuned to my heart thumps, the scent of hyacinth and wood smoke, the way the light dances on snow peppered with sunflower seed hulls.
You can tell when a poet has been a good listener, because the poem is more likely to capture the essence of a thing, more likely to reproduce its voice and the heart of its rhythms . . . ~L.L. Barkat in God in the Yard, p. 84.
Playing with poetry helps me practice writing tight.
But I have to be still with heart tuned.
What David pulled from the depths of his soul on silent nights, are poetic truths so raw, ebullient, furious, and sorrowful, that we can taste the truth of his experience. ~L.L. Barkat in God in the Yard, p. 86
Listen to the sounds of morning silence using all five senses, L.L. suggests. Then write down what you hear and put it together into a simple poem. Don’t worry about form or meaning.
So I gave it a try with what I listed above.
Breakfast is Served
flutter, flop, chirp, nod
melodies in surround sound
with steam of tea
the gang’s all here
breakfast is served
on a sunflower
Do you create better in silence or noise?
If you write mostly prose, have you tried writing poetry?
God murmurs in the silence of unexpected places. Poetry can be one of those places. ~L.L. Barkat