Homework February - Concord of Sweet Sound
Posted: Mon Feb 06, 2023 12:21 pm
Greetings All ...
Firstly, I must apologise for my absence from the Forum over the past few weeks. Unfortunately, during December I copped a severe case of Covid-19 which knocked the stuffing out of me, and from which I'm only now emerging with very depleted energy levels. However I'm sure I'll come good - and I'm delighted to see that all of you have been carrying on the fine work of writing poetry.
Now to the February prompts. What an interesting choice you gave us, Maureen! I couldn't go past the "sound of silence" prompt, because my husband and I assist an elderly deaf friend whom we've known for over 30 years. I've gained an enhanced appreciation of what it must be like to live in a silent world, though no hearing person could fully understand. So my poem contains no fiction. I've borrowed the title from Shakespeare's "Merchant of Venice".
CONCORD OF SWEET SOUND
(c) Shelley Hansen 2023
I asked him “How does silence sound?” I spoke to him with hands
formed into signs for words and phrases, shaped by the demands
of our communication. He’s a deaf, non-verbal man
who’s spent his years in silence ever since his life began.
He’s 80 now. He drives a car and copes with all the things
that living on his own presents, the route that each day brings.
He’s never heard a human voice, or shared a loved one’s laugh,
his farm life never marked by clucking hen or lowing calf.
He asked me “How does music sound? How does it make you feel?”
I tried so hard to tell him, but to him it seemed surreal.
I asked him how he’d outline colours to a man born blind.
He shook his head … and understood some things can’t be defined.
I asked him “How do thoughts appear in private, in your head?
I ‘hear’ my thoughts. Do yours come through in Auslan signs instead?”
He told me, “No, I see my thoughts like print upon a page …
I read them like I read a book. It helps me to engage.”
He says he cannot tell me how the silence sounds, because
the silence is his life – it’s all there is, and ever was.
He lives with that. Yet I am glad, when songbirds flock around
that I’ve been blessed abundantly with concord of sweet sound.
Firstly, I must apologise for my absence from the Forum over the past few weeks. Unfortunately, during December I copped a severe case of Covid-19 which knocked the stuffing out of me, and from which I'm only now emerging with very depleted energy levels. However I'm sure I'll come good - and I'm delighted to see that all of you have been carrying on the fine work of writing poetry.
Now to the February prompts. What an interesting choice you gave us, Maureen! I couldn't go past the "sound of silence" prompt, because my husband and I assist an elderly deaf friend whom we've known for over 30 years. I've gained an enhanced appreciation of what it must be like to live in a silent world, though no hearing person could fully understand. So my poem contains no fiction. I've borrowed the title from Shakespeare's "Merchant of Venice".
CONCORD OF SWEET SOUND
(c) Shelley Hansen 2023
I asked him “How does silence sound?” I spoke to him with hands
formed into signs for words and phrases, shaped by the demands
of our communication. He’s a deaf, non-verbal man
who’s spent his years in silence ever since his life began.
He’s 80 now. He drives a car and copes with all the things
that living on his own presents, the route that each day brings.
He’s never heard a human voice, or shared a loved one’s laugh,
his farm life never marked by clucking hen or lowing calf.
He asked me “How does music sound? How does it make you feel?”
I tried so hard to tell him, but to him it seemed surreal.
I asked him how he’d outline colours to a man born blind.
He shook his head … and understood some things can’t be defined.
I asked him “How do thoughts appear in private, in your head?
I ‘hear’ my thoughts. Do yours come through in Auslan signs instead?”
He told me, “No, I see my thoughts like print upon a page …
I read them like I read a book. It helps me to engage.”
He says he cannot tell me how the silence sounds, because
the silence is his life – it’s all there is, and ever was.
He lives with that. Yet I am glad, when songbirds flock around
that I’ve been blessed abundantly with concord of sweet sound.