A while ago I was sent a pretty stinging message from a poet/writer whom I have never met, but whose work I really respect.

They offered (not so kindly) that I am hurting the genre by writing in the way I do. These kind of messages aren’t new to me as over the past few months I have been receiving others that carry the theme of “what gives you the right to talk about poetry.”

Usually these messages come from people who are far more precise poets that I could ever dream to be - but who don’t offer much reciprocal respect.

So here’s the response I now reply with whenever I receive messages like that:

Howdy!

While it’s true that I am fairly new to writing poetry, I’m really starting to feel disconnected from the poets who treat this vocation like a protected reserve, accessible only to a chosen few.

I’ve noticed this in the poetry world~~ there are a few poets who seem to take turns guarding the narrow entry they believe is reserved for people who write just like they do. There are many gatekeepers standing by to make sure only those they deem worthy pass through the ornate entrance.

No doubt these poets are highly skilled at their craft. The badges they wear on their gatekeeping uniforms~~handed to them by a country club industry~prove that. But these guardians of poetry roll their eyes and scoff at those who write with more desperation than precision. They dismiss the writers who value authenticity over perfection, and I believe that kind of attitude is keeping future poets from ever picking up the pen.

Yes, there are poets who treat poetry like an algebraic equation, weighing and balancing every word with mathematical accuracy. And they are wonderful at what they do. Despite their style being so different from mine, I think their voices have the power to change the world. Of course, my approach feels a bit more of a wild and feral exploration of the heart.

Yet - I believe there’s room for all of us.

What worries me is how this sort of precious gatekeeping forces poets to write only the kind of work that will grant them entry into the “club.”

It’s like studying for the test instead of learning the lesson.

For years, I thought my work was terrible because I wasn’t selected as a winner or published in a literary magazine. So I started writing for admittance~ and my poetry got worse and worse.

What does “worse” mean in this case? Simply this:

I wasn’t being authentic.

Now, I write a poem not to win but to be a small part of the mosaic of voices that make up our shared human experience. My poems are just little tiles I place on the larger piece of community art, each one a peek behind the armor of my heart~~ raw, imperfect, and real. I don’t think my poems are better than anyone else’s; they’re just mine.

A poem scrawled in a tear-stained notebook by a heartbroken teenager and read at a coffeehouse open mic is just as important as any published work by an acclaimed poet who has tons of grey “wisdom” in their hair.

When gatekeepers dominate the creative world, we bury so many voices under the weight of what’s “acceptable.”

How many stories are lost because we’ve told the storyteller they don’t have the right to tell them?

How many poems go unwritten because someone was told they didn’t have the background to write them?

This is why I lead writing retreats that bypass these artificial gates. They aren’t about winning prizes or polishing rocks into gemstones. They’re about giving a middle finger to the gates and writing anyway. The only qualification for creating something compelling is unabridged authenticity.

The world needs more writers, poets, artists, lyricists, singers, and storytellers~~not fewer. The more we share the treasures and revelations inside us, the more empathy we create in a world that is starving for it.

There’s room for all of us. Always.

Always. Always. Always.

(John “badger’s nest hair” Roedel)