#LiteraryCulture – OLD SCRATCH PRESS

If you’ve ever been to a poetry reading, you’ve probably heard it. The slow cadence. The dramatic pauses. The slightly mystical tone. The voice that signals: I am now doing Poetry.

In fact, when I think about that sentence read in “poetry voice” it would be read like this:

The voice
that signals
I am now
doing
poetry

And each line would end with an up tone, as if the performer was asking a question.

The recent New York Times article digs into this phenomenon, often called the “poet voice,” and asks why many poets fall into the same stylized way of reading their work aloud.

For some listeners, the article says, that way of reading feels comforting and familiar. For others, awkward, distancing, or makes the poem feel like a performance ritual rather than a piece of language meant to connect.

The article points out something important: this isn’t just about aesthetics. It’s about how poetry exists in two worlds at once. On the page, poetry is quiet, private, intimate. Out loud, it becomes physical, embodied, communal. Voice, breath, pacing, silence, and tone all reshape meaning. The same poem can feel completely different depending on how it’s read.

And yet, many readings sound strangely similar.

Why?

There’s also a bigger tension here. Poetry has deep roots in oral tradition. Long before books, poetry lived in voices, memory, and storytelling. But modern literary culture often treats performance and “serious writing” as separate worlds. Spoken word, slam, and performance poetry are seen as different categories entirely, even though they’re doing what poetry has always done: using voice to create meaning. They also might sound different, as performance, when compared to how people read on the performance evenings in your MFA program.

I remember, from the first time I saw poets read aloud, at a bar in Philadelphia in the 1990s, thinking that it was weird that many of them read their work in the same way, and wondering why they did. When I was in my MFA program, and we would read our work at student readings, us poets, fellow students, often read that way. I remember it as mainly the other white women, and that the students and teachers/established visiting poets, could be people who did it. Not that all of them did it, you understand, but that it happened at times among student readers, teacher readers, and visiting poet readers, and it was, in the main, done by my fellow white women. I don’t remember the guys reading that way. I also remember that the teachers (minus a few) and the students in the poetry track were incredibly serious about the writing and performing of poetry. I don’t know that I ever got quite that serious, which is probably a character flaw. You know I’ve got me some of those.

On Threads people are losing their minds about the article (slow news day?) so, let’s talk about it:

• When you hear poetry read aloud, does it deepen your connection to the work or pull you out of it?
• Do you think “poet voice” is a real thing, or just a stereotype we’ve internalized?
• When you hear poetry read aloud, does it deepen your connection to the work or pull you out of it?
• Have you heard “poet voice?”
• How do you read your own work aloud? Casually, dramatically, flat, musical, conversational?
• Should poetry readings sound like performance, conversation, or something else entirely?
• Is hearing the poet’s voice an added layer of meaning, or an intrusion on the reader’s imagination?

Could you….
drop your thoughts….
in the comments?

Bob Dylan famously called himself a poet first, then a musician. It’s often been said that every poem is a song. Many famous musicians also published poetry including Patti Smith, John Lennon, Joni Mitchell, Lou Reed. More recent examples are Taylor Swift, Lana Del Rey, Drake, Halsey, Tupac Shakur, Kelsea Ballerini, Alicia Keys.

Jewel published her first book of poems in 1998 A Night without Armor. She sold over 2 million copies, and her book remains one of American’s best-selling poetry collections of all time. The poems were inspired by the journals Jewel kept throughout her life. She has talked about writing poems since childhood, that it’s not music she needs, but “poetry.” That poetry reflects who she really is and unlike pop music, it allows people to get her. There are poems in the collection about human life, family, her Alaskan childhood, heartbreak, healing, divorce. It’s one of those collections that feels brave as an open heart. Here is Jewel talking about her poetry and her process with Charlie Rose.

I focus on Jewel here because when I first heard her music, I immediately thought of it more as words on a page. The words led for me, and the tune came after. The images were so clear and inspiring. Poets should listen to music, because music can teach us about cadence and rhythm. Music helps with pacing. Sound is important in poems. Music also has structures that help with poetic structures such as refrain and verse. Also, listening to songs can be inspire us. Music evokes emotion. Boosts mood and creativity. Music takes our minds from where we are into another space and that often leads to words on a page. Here is a song by Jewel that demonstrates why songs are poems and poems are songs and why poets need music. We wouldn’t be at our best without it. We were meant for each other.

Virginia Watts is the author of poetry and stories found in The MacGuffin, Epiphany, CRAFT, The Florida Review, Reed Magazine, Pithead Chapel, Eclectica Magazine among others. She has been nominated four times for a Pushcart Prize. Her debut short story collection Echoes from the Hocker House was short listed for 2024 Eric Hoffer Grand Prize, selected as one of the Best Indie Books of 2023 by Kirkus Book Reviews, and won third place in the 2024 Feathered Quill Book Awards. Please visit her.

Virginia’s new book is now available from Old Scratch Press: