Poetry comes slamming into our souls at the speed of light.

Greet it.

Say “f*ck it!” to everything else, and pick up the pen.

Write it out.

Every single word that comes to the surface, including that one—yes, those raw uncomfortable syllables—and let them go.

See how they fall onto the page.

They’ll arrive, usually at the worst moments—sitting in traffic, biking through an intersection, typing at work, making dinner, waiting on tables, or for me, as I drift off to sleep.

Like the other night, I wrote the most satisfying poem, in my mind’s eye, as I drifted into dreams.

I awoke to the sound of a garbage truck. And, poof—it was gone.

I searched for the rhyming words—under my pillows and at the foot of my bed, but the poem disappeared from sight.

So, I say to all you writers, including myself—pick up the goddamn pen, and write the next time the muse whispers in your ear.

Forget about all that other stuff that needs to be done, and be the writer who you are meant to be.

Let it all go, and you won’t be wondering about what it was that you wanted to say, because it’s all right there for you—and maybe us—to read.

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Relephant:

Poems I’d Love to See as Graffiti Street Art.

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Author: Jes Wright

Editor: Yoli Ramazzina

Photo: Author’s own.

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