Hearing

This morning, I looked up at the sky and saw this:



From the Poetry Speaks Calendar, 26 June.

"[T]he ear is a prime judge of what I've accomplished or have not accomplished. I wouldn't even know whether a poem was finished or not unless my ear told me. I think music must be in the poem somewhere. Poetry is traditionally a musical structure... people who don't hear the poems are missing a good deal, and a poet who doesn't hear his own poems is missing everything. He's got to hear his own voice saying it. It's got to come off the page."

--Paul Blackburn


I suppose a poet must hear his own poems because if he doesn't, he wouldn't believe in them. All poems that come from the heart--and all the best ones do--will naturally resonate with the poet. Someone who then hears such a poem will be more likely to say, "The poem spoke to me."

And in every type of art it is the same, be it music or literature or painting or sculpture or dance or drama. There is a chasm between the artist and the audience which must be bridged by a mutual resonance: only through this can an artistic experience be shared and appreciated in full.


This Thursday is the Preliminary Round of the State Choir Competition. Some thirty schools will be taking part at SMK Taman Melati, including the V.I. For the first time in six years (if I'm not mistaken), the V.I. isn't hosting the prelims. I suppose the only problem with this is that transport to Taman Melati will be tricky, as there isn't a train station near the school.

Nonetheless, I will try my very best to be there. No doubt, many schools are likely to cause me much ear damage, and if they butcher their songs, probably heart damage as well. But I look forward to the few schools (there are always a few) whose voices will take me to a faraway place, where man touches eternity, where words echo long after they're spoken, where spirits of heaven and earth are one.