THE NOISY WORLD; A captivating poem by Greg Odo

Preface to The Noisy World
 English poet and children's writer Ted Hughes [17 August 1930- 28 October 1998]  wrote to Greg Odo from Court Green, North Tawton, Devon, England, UK on February 10, 1986.

Dear Greg Odo,
Thanks for the long letter and the poems.
If you're only 22, I wouldn't worry about other people's instructions. nor if you were 93.
If you are African and you can't be African being born African and growing up in wonderful Africa- then it follows, no matter what you write, no matter how simply "inspirational" your poems are, every thing that comes out of you must be "of relevance to Africa" and "related to Africa".
It might not be full of political references or political feelings, or social concerns but it can only breathe "spirit of Africa".
And in the end, political or social content in poetry is temporary_it is the stuff that dates and become quickly meaningless. But the spirit, which seems to ignore those things, is in fact the spirit of those things.
Whatever you write, in time it will be seen to have sprung out of a particular political/social matrix and to express the "spirit" of that moment. If it is any good. So just go ahead and say you are writing about "the spirit of being your land of Africa".
"The Noisy World" in particular, seems to me a real poem. Just go on writing as hard as you can.
Good luck.

The Noisy World
Why care for you
About the noisy world?
Men blubber and bellow
Like beasts.
And the blaring instruments
Of ecstasy
Fill the air into a breadth.
The prudish squeak and squawk
About this external motion.

Even the souls that soar
Into the height;
The prodigies, god's creators
That know solitude,
Flap their wings of glory
Into a noise.

Still, in their solitudes great souls
Are tormented and torn apart
By the noise
Of their immense thoughts.


The Noisy World is one of the best poetry works by poet and artist Gregory Odo.

The noisy world talks about a world where humans behave like animals, a world where the sounds of pleasure is choking and the prudent complain about it, a world where even the glorious birds of the air flap their wings into a noise, a world where man, even in the solitude of his thought is tormented by the noise of his thoughts. The noisy world, our world.