Rather appropriately, this poem came to me during the dark, creepy hours of the early morning. It was one of those moments when I laid there desperate to pen it down straight away but conscious that that would probably wake hubby (who having a 6 a.m alarm call would not appreciate it) and Betty, the five month old. So I laid there, repeating the lines over and over in the hope that by morning, I would still remember it. And I did.
Somewhere in passing, many moons ago, I read about a poet who worked on revisions of their poems by audio recording them. They explained how it allowed them to really work on the rhythm and tone of the piece. This is crucial when your a little rhyme phobic as I am. (It was fine for the Romantic poets but personally, I find that unless the poet is incredibly accomplished, the end of line rhyme in much contemporary poetry is a little clunky, seeming to restrict the flow and purity of the piece.)
The recording the poem was gloriously simple and very effective - once I got past the horror of hearing my own voice speak back to me. It really allowed me to understand the balance of the lines and focus on the importance of each word - and most importantly discover the voice of the poem.
So here is the recording of Sounds of the Night. I'm being brave and putting it out there, despite still being woefully embarrassed (It's a New Year Resolution to be more 'out there' and not shy away so much) And no silly comments about my sounding like a 1950's English boarding school student. (That was a bit of a revelation to myself and I'm still coming to terms with it LOL)
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