I write because of an urge to connect
with something deeper inside,
perhaps finding it in the unknown.
I write because I long for the insight
that comes when I slow down
and let the words flow naturally.
I write because I want to be a Poem Catcher.
Like a spider’s web catches flies,
the words I write catch ideas and subtle nuances
of everyday life
that would be invisible otherwise.
I write because one day,
in my inbox,
there was an email inviting me to write.
When I explored it further
a lovely woman told me this
writing process was one of the most
transformational things
she had ever done.
And I, longing for transformation,
signed on that day.
I stayed because it truly is one of the most
transformational things
I’ve ever done.
But also because another longing
was being satisfied.
The longing for a community of women,
strong enough to be vulnerable,
wise enough to recognize a safe place
to share their burden and joys.
I write because this is where
I found my voice,
my strength,
my pure desire to be 100% genuine,
authentic and honest
with myself and others.
I write because I learned how to be
gentle with myself,
because this community of women
is gentle with me.
Today I write to say
Thank You
Thank You
Thank You.
—Julie Dean
I write because I want to know what’s moving under the surface in me
I write because I want to heal
I write to let my pen lead me to undiscovered ways deep inside me
I write because I want to
I write because I have to
I write myself into knowing things I didn’t know I knew
I write to blow my heart clean
I write to fly away outside me, to meet with knowledge of the world
I write to find my way home
—Titti Backström
I write to question what I’m sure of
I write to sure up what I question
I write to see the wind
I write to hear the tree
I write to know my longings and my belongings
I write to feel connected
I write to quiet my fears
I write to know myself
I write to collaborate
I write to understand the color blue
And I write to be delighted
Who knows what will come out of the dark.
—Cami Flake
I write to capture the wisps of memories
that float through my consciousness—
maybe to disappear forever.
I write to observe and to record what I see.
I write to remember
how the air smells after a rain
how the daffodils open in the early days of spring
how the puppy gently touches my hand with his soft paw.
I write to consider the world around me
the visual world
the spoken world
the written world
the silent world
the silent voices in the world I can see
and in the world I can’t see.
I write to find answers to questions.
I write to ask questions.
I write to release my fury—
and on some days to give thanks.
I write to speak.
—Bonnie Davis
In a world that is often too quick to put people into boxes
In a world that celebrates a happy face
In a world where people often wear masks
In a world with complexity
I write because my words matter.
I write because I can take care of the longing to be heard
by hearing my own words.
I write because I believe words have power.
I write because I believe words have power to destroy
or to build.
I write because I can witness myself and my life through writing
instead of letting my life go by.
I write because nature is so powerful that only words can capture it.
I write because otherwise I forget.
I write because my soul has so much to say.
I write because through writing, I can document my life.
I write because I can preserve my life through writing.
I write because I can preserve moments and memories through writing.
—Virginia Nava
I write because I was born to—
it’s all there in my chart.
because it makes order out of chaos
and makes chaos out of order
because I need to name things
because there are so many green tomatoes
because the birds have gone silent
because the birds have gone.
I write because I remember the sound of
the wind trying to rip the roof off
because it’s nearly October
because I need to know what I think
because ink on paper is not the same alchemy
as typing
I write because the thoughts that come up demand it—
to be spoken aloud is to be made real
because a door just closed somewhere
because a window was left open
because the dead need to be remembered
and we need to re-member the dead.
I write because there’s a little boy
who may read my words someday
because the world is always turning
and sometimes it makes me dizzy
because my father climbs into a combine harvester
yet another year
because my mother picks apples from a front-end loader
because I can’t be two places at the same time
because I am always in two places at the same time
I write
because someone needs to know that I’m here
because someday I’ll be gone.
—Lynn McMillan
I write to see things more clearly
… to organize my thoughts
… to understand my brain and my heart better.
I write because I am of a time and generation that taught writing a note of thanks, appreciation, sympathy or my latest news, thoughts, experiences or sadness are ways of showing the recipient that he or she matters to me. To my life.
I write because I love beautiful paper and journals.
I write to leave a record so my children will never say, “I only knew her as my mom, not as a person in her own right.”
I write because I don’t like important communication by text. Because I like whole and real words; not LOL, LMAO, TTYL, How RU?
What was all that grammar for? The handwriting exercises, the spelling tests, the adjectives, adverbs and the rest?
It seems that as the world speeds up we lose parts of ourselves as we try to keep pace.
I’m getting older, and so I want to slow down and be better.
—Debby Perras
Poets and peers and philosophers ask,
why write?
Because how else would I describe …
a spider spinning silk, crumpled leaves cracking
beneath feet, cacophony of crow, blue jays managing
migration, Monsters mimicking Mussolini, Grandma
turning over in her grave, remembering
her journey in the belly of a boat, watching
the pendulum swing from beyond the veil,
beyond the pale
.
—Sue Ann Gleason
