When the World Is Too Loud: Poetry and the Power of Quiet
Poetry exists in the spaces between the noise. It isn’t designed to compete with the endless stream of notifications, trends, and metrics that dictate modern life. And yet, it holds a kind of power that no algorithm can quantify.
In the rush to stay relevant, to keep up with the noise, I found myself losing sight of what poetry is meant to do. Poetry doesn’t clamor for attention; it invites reflection. It doesn’t thrive in chaos; it offers stillness. And stillness is a rare gift in a world that is always shouting.
Stepping back from the noise of running a press has reminded me of this. There is something profoundly rebellious about poetry’s quietness. It doesn’t promise instant gratification. Instead, it offers depth, the kind of connection that takes time to build and lingers long after the words are read.
But this quiet can feel isolating, especially when you’re trying to champion it in a world that values volume over substance. I’ve often wondered: how do you share poetry when the world seems too busy to listen? The answer, I’ve realised, is simple: you let it whisper.
Poetry doesn’t need to shout to be heard. It speaks to those who are willing to pause, to lean in and listen. The right readers—the ones who will carry your words with them—aren’t looking for the loudest voice. They’re looking for something that cuts through the noise and speaks to their soul.
By stepping back, I’ve found clarity. The noise isn’t my enemy; it’s simply not my focus. My focus is on creating space for poetry to do what it does best: to connect, to heal, to challenge, and to inspire. Poetry doesn’t need to compete with the world’s chaos—it exists beyond it.
For those who feel overwhelmed by the noise, I encourage you to embrace the quiet power of poetry. Read it, write it, and let it remind you that not everything valuable has to be loud.
When the world is too loud, poetry becomes the antidote. It’s a reminder that quiet doesn’t mean small; it means intentional. And in that quiet, there is room for something extraordinary.
Sunday Mornings at the River is a labour of love—an independent press run entirely as a volunteer project. No corporate backing, no funding, just a deep belief in poetry’s power to challenge, comfort, and ignite change. If you appreciate what we do and want to support our work, you can buy us a coffee here: buymeacoffee.com/sundaymornings. Every contribution helps keep this press alive, fueling new books, fresh voices, and the quiet rebellion of poetry.