Poetry Prompt: What Kind of Quiet?

“There are many kinds of quiet,” begins The Quiet Book, written by Deborah Underwood. There’s “making a wish quiet” and “top of the roller coaster quiet.” There’s “being the last one to get picked up from school quiet” and “dropping a peanut butter sandwich face down quiet.” In a world that declares how much noise fills it yet doesn’t do much to put a stop to it, I find much hope in the quiet that can be found in our daily lives. Reading this book also makes me realize that quiet — in all its kinds — is something that is felt:

My walk back home

alone from the bus stop quiet

Spotting an open table at my favorite cafe quiet

Releasing myself from my mom and dad’s embrace,

getting in the car and going home quiet

Running through the arboretum with friends before the sun rises quiet

The garbage can standing on the the street and waiting

next to the tree

after just being emptied

quiet

I’ve read The Quiet Book to K-8 graders, and I think the reason quiet is something that is felt is because it’s relatable. With every class come comments such as, “Oh, that reminds me…,” or, “I know exactly what that’s like.” There seems to be much opportunity in quiet. It provides connection. It allows for empathy — another something that must be felt for its power to truly work.

Try It

This week listen (look and feel), for the different kinds of quiet in your life. Then write a poem about it.

Featured Poem

Thanks to everyone who participated in last year’s Poetry Prompt. Here’s one from Richard Maxson we enjoyed:

A Brief Enchantment

There are many ways to enter
a December wood or, forest,

let it remain enchanted,
no matter what words we use.

The first of all attributes is magic:
snow expanding the landscape,

darkening the boles of trees
splashed with bands of white,

their lofty panniers of green
now gelid umbrellas above you.

This is the silence where worlds begin,
a depth made deeper by multitudes.

The vivid face in the sun’s mirror
shows you the roundness of chaos.

So much occurs in the in the quiet sky,
in the vast everywhere you are not.

These are the new woods we watch
fill up with stars, knowing that snow

is local. Let each morning sun be new
and different, as when we danced for it
 
Photo by Kalle Gustafsson Creative Commons, via Flickr. Post by Callie Feyen.

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Callie Feyen

Callie Feyen likes Converse tennis shoes and colorful high heels, reading the poetry of Gerard Manley Hopkins, and the Twilight series. Her favorite outfit has always been a well-worn pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, but she wants hoop skirts with loads of tulle to come back into style. Her favorite line from literature comes from Sharon Creech’s Absolutely Normal Chaos: “I don’t know who I am yet. I’m still waiting to find out.” Feyen has served as the At-Risk Literacy Specialist in the Ypsilanti Public Schools and is the author of Twirl: my life with stories, writing & clothes and The Teacher Diaries: Romeo and Juliet.

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