ByDVORA WAYSMANAUGUST 23, 2026 18:19Sometimes you read something, and it stays in your memory forever. I don’t know how long ago I read it, but I have never forgotten two lines by Roger White:“When life touches youPoems appear like bruises.”Oh, how true!For many decades, I gave workshops in creative writing. I taught students how to craft an article; how to approach an editor; how to get your book published; how to make a character come alive – but I never gave a workshop on writing poetry.Writing a script, creative writing (illustartive) (credit: SHUTTERSTOCK)The reason? I could have taught rhyme. I could have taught verse. I could have explained about iambic pentameter – a line of verse of 10 syllables, with stress on every second syllable. I could have given them exercises to write in verse or in rhyme, but I could never have taught them to write poetry.Why? Somerset Maugham was once asked how to write novels. He replied that there were seven rules – but nobody knew what they were. It’s the same with poetry. A poem is a spontaneous burst of emotion; the words come unbidden, and break through all your controlled inhibitions. You never know when it’s going to happen and what your reaction will be. Many, many years ago I visited London, where I lived from 1951-1953. I was 19. There, I fell in love for the first time, but we had to part because of our different religions and my parents’ disapproval. At the time, it broke my heart; we had shared so many memories, and although unconsummated, we even had our own special song. Then, years later, I had a strange experience. The minute I got home, I took a pen and paper – I couldn’t write the words fast enough:'Nostalgia'A woman in the streetStrummed a guitarAnd suddenly I heard it …The melodyLost for decadesLost, but not forgotten –The chords took me backAcross the yearsTo when we sang it together …Before all music stopped. That is a poem – a burst of emotion. Not a carefully crafted verse. The words pour out unbidden. You don’t think about rhyming, or analyzing your emotion. It just comes.Such a poem was written by my late sister Bobbie, after the death of her beloved husband Ellis, after only three years of marriage:'My Song'Walking on the beach at dawnI heard the mermaids’ songSoftly for my ears aloneCarried on the sea sprayMingling with my tears. The darkness sighed and vanishedBlood red rose the sunThe mermaids’ song is fadingAnd still I walk alone. I walk into foreverPerhaps that’s where you areI feel that you watch over meYou are my guiding star.(Roberta Rhine) So, if you want to write a true poem, don’t sit down and search for fancy words and rhymes. Wait until life touches you – and the poems appear like bruises. The words will be beautiful because they burst spontaneously from your heart. ■dwaysman@gmail.comFollow us on Google