This week on
Nelly asked us why we write poetry and got me thinking. For me, I began to write poetry because it gave me a good way of trying to voice how I felt about certain aspects of my life, and of trying to process tough situations. I could write poetry without thinking, and found myself able to share myself more fully than trying to explain vocally to someone.Often it can feel that nobody is listening, or that nobody cares about what you are going through, particularly if you are going through a tough time, and so poetry, for me, helps me to express this in ways that not only serves to process my thoughts, but puts it in words that nourish and heal some of the more juicy stuff. I don’t always share them with people, but just getting it out on paper is a source of therapy for me on difficult days.
It is not always trauma and pain though, poetry helps me look at life differently, I love finding new ways of writing, trying different forms and writing, not just about things I know, but exploring things I have never thought of before. Something poetry prompts like
’s ‘Poetry Adventure’ back in February, and NaPoWriMo do so well. Poetry also connects me with others, the poetry community here on Substack is just fabulous, and I have met some lovely poets IRL and over on Zoom with who have not only inspired me but encouraged me to write more, be myself, and to keep going, even when the poetry isn’t coming naturally. I feel part of something, albeit perhaps on the edges, but I feel like I belong. Poets are my people!So, with that in mind, I wrote a poem (of course I did) to help me explain this so much better than all the waffle I wrote above could ever do…
Why poetry?…
without it I have no place for my grief,
there is no home for my tears,
pain keeps crushing and breaking me.
I cannot talk about the things once passed
without poetry, in all its form.
I have no other way of shouting into the void
words that cannot be expressed
vocally. Only making sense on the page
I am forced to write upon, as if
my fingers cannot rest until they
do the work of my heart.
Poetry takes my trauma and makes it
make sense,
it holds me,
undoes me,
makes me better
knows me, so well.
I am powerless without it, I ache
my stomach growling with hunger,
if I don't get enough, when I am unable
to write it, read it, live through it.
Poetry gives me a voice,
speaks through me and
makes me feel heard, and seen,
no longer invisible. I belong,
my people are poetry people,
they get it, they know that
without poetry, I am nothing.
Why do you write poetry? Or if you don’t but you love to read it, why? I would love to know…
Lisa x
Loved this! I've been reflecting a lot lately, upon my return to poetry, of my why. Shared some, in a post yesterday, of how my life has expanded, over time, because of it (or thus, contracted, without it). I think we all come to reading it and writing it for similar -- but often different reasons -- and that's a beauty I think I'm finally learning to appreciate!
Love this! "Poetry... / undoes me". There's a fabulous Nine Arches Press book called 'Why I Write Poetry' ed. Ian Humphries, full of essays and poetry prompts by different poets. The underlying thread is this feeling of being alien, of having an alien body and the only way to express what it means to live is to write poetry.