I don't want to write poems about the royal wedding. I would

Hearken, O seekers of truth and artistry, to the words of Derek Walcott, the poet whose heart was ever bound to the rhythms of the human spirit. He declares, “I don’t want to write poems about the royal wedding. I would have to be moved by the event.” In this simple yet profound statement, he reveals the essence of true creation: that art must flow not from duty or external demand, but from authentic inspiration.

The royal wedding, a spectacle of grandeur and tradition, captivates multitudes through its pageantry. Yet Walcott, a poet of the soul, reminds us that true poetry is not birthed from mere spectacle. It is forged in the fires of genuine emotion. To write of something without feeling is to create hollow verses, stripped of life and truth. Thus, he refuses to craft words for a moment that does not stir his inner being, guarding the sanctity of his craft.

This sentiment echoes the teachings of the ancient poets. Homer, in his epic tales, did not merely recount battles and feasts; he sang of love, rage, loss, and triumph because his people felt those truths in their bones. Likewise, Rumi wrote not of kings’ ceremonies, but of the mystical union between the human soul and the divine. These masters knew, as Walcott knows, that a poet must speak from depth of experience, not from the hollow echoes of others’ expectations.

Consider the court poets of medieval kingdoms, who were often compelled to praise their rulers and commemorate royal events. Though their verses dazzled the court, many lacked the fire of sincerity, and thus, few endured through time. In contrast, the works born from genuine inspiration—like the love sonnets of Petrarch, written for his beloved Laura—still ignite hearts centuries later. Walcott’s words serve as a defense of this higher standard, where truth outweighs grandeur.

Walcott’s refusal also teaches us about the responsibility of the artist. In a world eager for spectacle and distraction, the poet becomes a guardian of authenticity. By refusing to write without inspiration, he preserves the integrity of his voice, reminding all creators that art must never be reduced to mere ornament for the powerful or the popular.

Thus, O children of creation, heed this wisdom: do not be swayed by the brilliance of crowns or the noise of the crowd. Write, speak, and create only when your soul is moved, for only then will your work carry the weight of eternity. A royal wedding may dazzle the eyes, but it is the unseen truths of the heart that awaken the pen and give birth to words that will never fade.