And if they haven't got poetry in them, there's nothing you can

Hear the wise words of Norman MacCaig: “And if they haven't got poetry in them, there's nothing you can do that will produce it.” In this statement, MacCaig captures the essence of the poet’s calling—that poetry is not something that can be taught in its truest form, nor can it be forced upon a person. Poetry is a flame that must already burn within, a spark that ignites from deep within the soul, and if it is not there, no amount of instruction or encouragement can make it appear. The poet is not created through the simple act of learning craft, but through the presence of a deeper truth that stirs the heart. Poetry, at its core, is not just technique or form, but something more ancient, more intrinsic. It is the pulse of the human spirit speaking its truth into the world.

The ancients themselves knew that poetry was a divine gift, not a product of mere labor or study. The Greeks believed that the Muses, those celestial beings, inspired poets to sing of the gods and heroes. The poet did not simply choose their words; the words were given, as if from a higher realm. In this ancient view, poetry was something that flowed through the poet from beyond, like a river channeling the forces of nature. If one did not have the Muses within them, no amount of preparation could lead to the creation of poetry. The same truth applied to the Roman poets, whose work was inspired by divine forces—whether it was Virgil’s Aeneid or Ovid’s Metamorphoses, they too believed that their craft was a gift, not something earned by effort alone.

In the Renaissance, poets like Shakespeare and Dante also understood that poetry was not simply a result of training. Yes, they were masters of their craft, but the poetry they created came from a deep well of understanding, of insight into the human condition. Shakespeare’s soliloquies, whether in Hamlet or Macbeth, were not just clever writing; they were expressions of human struggle, passion, and tragedy—moments of revelation that spoke to the heart of what it means to be alive. Dante’s Divine Comedy was born not just of a poetic mind but from a deep, mystical experience, a journey through realms of heaven and hell that mirrored the poet’s spiritual journey. In both, poetry is a manifestation of something greater, something that cannot be constructed through effort alone.

MacCaig’s words resonate with this timeless truth: poetry is born from within. Poetry cannot be manufactured or forced, for it is not a mere combination of words but the soul’s expression of truth. Just as a tree cannot grow from a barren seed, poetry cannot be drawn from someone who does not possess the inner spark. The poet must have something in them, a connection to the world beyond the visible, something that allows them to see the world in ways that others cannot. If that inner well does not exist, then poetry will remain elusive, no matter how much one desires it.

Consider the story of Emily Dickinson, who wrote not for fame but out of a necessity of the heart. Dickinson’s poetry was not a product of external pressures or demands. She did not publish widely in her lifetime, yet her words burned with the fire of someone who had to write, who could not help but give voice to the inner vision that she saw. Her work was not the result of training or market forces, but of a deep well of personal truth and insight. Her poems, often brief and enigmatic, spoke to the depth of human emotion, capturing fleeting moments of beauty and pain with a simplicity that came from within her.

MacCaig’s lesson, then, is a reminder that poetry is not something that can be taught into existence. It is something that must already be there, something intrinsic to the poet’s being. This is not to say that poetry cannot be honed or refined through practice—it can, as all crafts can—but it must first come from a place deep within the poet, a place that cannot be manufactured. True poets are not simply born, nor are they made by the world around them. They are born with a vision, and they write not because it is expected of them, but because they must, as naturally as breathing.

The practical lesson here is that if you seek to write poetry, you must first listen to your own soul. Look within, and ask yourself: what does the world look like through your eyes? What truths burn within you that must be expressed? Do not worry about technique or form in the beginning; first, listen to the call of poetry from within. Once you have heard that voice, then you may begin to shape it, to mold it, to refine it into the craft of the poet. But remember, it begins with the spark inside you, and if that spark is not there, no amount of instruction will produce poetry.

Thus, MacCaig’s words serve as a reminder to all who would write: poetry is not something that can be forced. It is a gift that comes from within, a calling that cannot be ignored. If you do not hear the voice of poetry within you, then perhaps you are not meant to write it. But if you do hear that call, if you feel the deep stirrings of the soul, then honor that gift. Write with sincerity, and know that your poetry is a reflection of your own inner truth. The world may not always understand it, but it will be yours, and that is enough.