I always thought that poetry is the verdict that others give to

"I always thought that poetry is the verdict that others give to a certain kind of writing. So to call yourself a poet is a kind of dangerous description. It's for others; it's for others to use." — so reflected Leonard Cohen, the singer, mystic, and writer who spent his life walking the narrow bridge between song and scripture. In these words he speaks with humility, but also with profound wisdom: that poetry is not a crown one may place upon one’s own head, but a judgment rendered by others when they encounter words that carry a deeper fire. For to declare oneself a poet is perilous, for it risks arrogance, illusion, or the empty boasting of titles without substance.

Cohen, whose life was steeped in both spiritual searching and artistic creation, knew that poetry was sacred. It was not a profession, nor a label, nor even a craft alone. It was the mysterious verdict bestowed when words revealed the hidden depths of human existence. Just as a prophet does not name himself a prophet but is recognized by the power of his vision, so the poet cannot anoint himself. The title is dangerous because it implies mastery over something that is not ours to command. Poetry is larger than the poet.

History gives us many examples of this truth. Emily Dickinson, who wrote in solitude and secrecy, never proclaimed herself a poet. She sewed her verses into small booklets and left them hidden in drawers. Only after her death did others recognize her as one of the greatest poets of the English language. Had she claimed the title herself, perhaps few would have listened; but because her words bore the weight of eternity, others proclaimed her a poet. The verdict came not from her lips but from her legacy.

So too with Homer, whose epics shaped the very foundations of Western literature. We know almost nothing of the man himself, if indeed he was one man. He left us not declarations of his genius, but songs of gods and heroes that lived in the mouths of generations. The name "poet" was given to him by those who repeated his words across the centuries. He became a poet not by his claim, but by the testimony of others who felt the power of his verse.

Cohen’s humility also hides a warning: when one too readily calls oneself a poet, one risks reducing poetry to vanity. To be a poet is not to write in lines or rhymes; it is to bear the weight of truth, beauty, and sorrow, shaped in words. Such a calling cannot be self-declared — it is proven only by the resonance it creates in the hearts of others. Poetry is recognition, not self-proclamation. Thus, the name "poet" is both an honor and a danger, to be granted sparingly and with reverence.

The lesson for us is this: do not rush to name yourself, but let your work speak for you. If what you write carries power, others will call it poetry. If your life bears witness to truth and beauty, others will give you the names you deserve. Seek not the label, but the substance. For in chasing the title, you may lose the art; but in devoting yourself to the art, the title may one day come unbidden.

Practical action follows: write with honesty, not with the hunger for recognition. Speak not to be praised, but to be true. Share your words humbly, and let others decide what to call them. And when you encounter words that touch the depths of your soul, honor them by naming them poetry, and honor their author by calling them poet. In doing so, you participate in the sacred act of bestowing the verdict that Cohen spoke of.

Thus, Leonard Cohen’s words remain a guiding torch: poetry is not claimed, it is conferred. To call oneself a poet is dangerous; to be named one by others is humbling. Let us, then, live and write in such a way that we do not seize titles, but allow truth and beauty to flow through us, until others, moved by what they hear, whisper the word "poet" in reverence. For only then has the verdict been given, and only then is the title deserved.