I’ve been thinking about the patterns of speech that poetry falls into.

Sometimes, lines fall into complete sentences. Sometimes, just phrases. Often there’s repetition, or breathless unstoppable flow. Perhaps some of the best poems follow the logic of ordinary spoken language, its cut and thrust.

Of course, every one of us has a unique pattern of speech, which along with the vibrations of our voice, makes for a particular sound. As a broadcaster, I have interviewed thousands of people over the years, and I’ve been lucky enough to hear a huge range of cadences and peculiarities of speech.

All the voices we’ve ever heard are part of our learning to be poets. We talk about developing our own ‘voice’ but I believe we are distilling sound patterns taken from any number of people we have spoken to, and casting them into our own poetic stream, even when the person concerned is speaking of subjects far from the realms of poetry.

I once interviewed Donald Trump, years before he entered politics, for a radio programme I used to present on the BBC World Service. When I edited his words on screen, I could see the insistent rise and fall of his phrasing, and the conscious, nay endless, repetition. If you’re interested, here’s a snippet.

(He told me, by the way, he would not be standing for US President.)  His speech patterns were, and are unusual, and memorable. I don’t think they have ever found their way into my writing, but then, how would I know?

Because the magic of poetry is that it reaches down into all kinds of aural experience, to bring words to the surface in ways we can’t understand.

I can look at any interview on my sound editing software, and as the green electric waves ebb and flow, I experience the wonder of hearing and understanding another human voice.

And I never stop being grateful, for that is at the heart of all poetry.