There it is. The spark. The heart racing, heavy breathing, if I don’t write this line of poetry my body might explode spark. Closely followed by intense examination of every single syllable to determine if what I think is poetry is something that someone else will think is poetry and will they shun me from the poetic society of poets if they disagree? Hah. Followed by slight laughter at my own cunning demise because that’s the thing about poets. Whether you call yourself that or not, you’re a part of this creative community. You’ve decided that you have words to share and **** it you demand to be heard and then maybe you wonder if what you’re feeling isn’t all that big of a deal at all. Maybe it doesn’t deserve a line, a phrase, or even a poetic thought.
But it does. Because poetry is not poetry if it’s censored and molded and charmed like a snake into fitting into someone else’s landscape. Poetry is not poetry if you don’t feel a piece of your soul being exposed with every cascading turn of phrase. Poetry is not poetry if it is a robotic reiteration & regurgitation of what someone expects you to feel. Poetry is not poetry if you don’t believe in what you’re writing.
So write the things you want. Write the things that are hard to say. The things that choke you and trip you up and expose scars and flaws in your physique. Write the things that are begging to be written. I promise not to laugh. I promise not to report you to the creative commission for poor writing. Write the things that demand to be written, because you demand to tell them.