On Writing Poetry in Public (Even If It May Be Horrible)

Though I’ve only been publishing poetry (in the strict formatted sense) on a consistent basis lately, I’ve always considered my work to be poetical in essence. A lot of my past work — though it’s classified as bloggish prose — has poetical elements tied into it.

Even this piece right here, I’m hearing the words and sentences as they pour out onto the page. I’m also keeping in mind each paragraph being its own stanza. The root meaning of the word stanza is Italian, meaning: room, station, or stopping-place. When I press ‘enter’ I’m taking you, dear reader, into a new room…

In writing workshops that I host, I always suggest writing, not with the eyes or the brain, but with the ears and the heart.

A good piece of writing doesn’t just form through clarity or thoroughness. It’s created through tonality, rhythm, and cadence.

It’s the sound of the written piece that the human mind opens itself to.

I’ve long considered myself a student of poetry and have written a lot of it in my private journals. Over the years, I’ve even been commissioned to write brand poetry for a few different establishments.

My affinity for poetry has been strong ever since the day (I don’t remember exactly when — sometime in early grade school) that I read Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein (or did a loving, attentive teacher read it to me? I don’t recall, but I think that may be right).

Silverstein was the gateway drug of poetry for so many in my xenial generation. His work secured in me a fondness for poetry that has stuck around ever since.

I just wish I’d have allowed myself to be taken more fully by this genre before now:) But as I embrace it and lean into poetry in public (better late than never, I guess), I’m swept away by the genre and am so glad that I finally submitted and committed to it.

As far as quality goes, I can honestly say that I’m happy with the work, but I’ve been doing creative work long enough to know how these things go. If I keep at it, I know I’ll look back in a year or five or ten and see how awful it probably is. But I also know that I’ll smile and be so thankful that I went through this beginner(ish) phase.

I hope you enjoy reading (hearing?) it at least as much as I do writing it.

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This post was previously published on and is republished here with permission from the author.

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