"The Modern Art of Conversation" ~ A Poem from "The Beauty of Listening" / by Linda Eve Diamond

If you've ever wondered what happened to the art of conversation... and felt disconnected in the growing modern interpretations of this sacred art... 

If you've ever looked at modern conversation not known quite what to make of it... or felt it was losing the essential qualities of detail and careful representation of thought...

If you've ever felt separate in a world of choirs all singing and preaching to themselves, then you'll feel right at home in this poem. "Welcome to the gallery of modern conversation..."

(Click the play button below for audio and scroll down to find the full text of this poem.)

THE MODERN ART OF CONVERSATION

By Linda Eve Diamond

Conversation, once a high art,
has changed in favor of simplicity. 

Seems the art of blending led to clashing.
Perspective was a bore.

The many styles and points of view
confused things even more.

Discourse moved to smooth, quick lines
then simplified more over time.

Welcome to the gallery
of modern conversation.

I’m in the blue room
with all the blue people.

Water horizon and sky wash 
into a nearly solid blue.        

The plaque on the wall refers to a ship 
which must be the same blue as the sea.

The lighthouse and the beacon, too,
I presume are the same blue hue. 

Undoubtedly, shipwrecks are rampant
in the blue, blue, blue, blue world.

The room of reds is no better
red folding into red upon red upon red.

In the purple room, 
an artist true to light

paints only colors true to life
but still only the life of purple.

Thus, Woman with Teacup
shows only a floating purple cup.

To those who love purple,
this is the only place to be.

Blues gather with blues.
Reds with reds. Greens with greens.

In each room, the solid blend 
of voice and vision  

blinded by the beauty of the color
blind to anything missing at all.

In fact, they say the other rooms
do nothing but distract.

Speeches all begin and end:
I know I’m preaching to the choir.

That phrase echoes through the gallery
which is, incidentally, falling apart.

The halls are dark and dangerous.
Common grounds are never cared for.

When these patrons meet in the hall,
tempers flare with no provocation at all.

Each room is heated with endless talk
that the art of conversation may be lost. 

 

©2013 Linda Eve Diamond, The Beauty of Listening