There’s something sacred about a whole month dedicated to poetry. A month where language gets its flowers. Where verse is given volume. Where metaphors become monuments. But in this moment—this chaotic, divided, data-drenched moment—National Poetry Month isn’t just a celebration. It’s a necessity.
Because poetry isn’t cute. It’s catalytic. It’s the language of revolution disguised as rhythm. And we need it now more than ever.
This month isn’t just about stanzas. It’s about standing up. It’s about giving a mic to the misrepresented and a stage to the silenced. It’s about reminding the world that Spoken Word Poetry doesn’t live in the margins—it creates the margins. It redraws the lines, reframes the questions, and refuses to be ignored.
When I take the stage as a Spoken Word Poet, I’m not performing—I’m preaching truth to power, vulnerability to apathy, hope to hopelessness. I’m not reciting poetry—I’m reshaping perception. I’m not just an artist—I’m a Motivational Speaker, a Poetic Voice, a disruption in tailored suits and rhyme schemes.
National Poetry Month matters because it holds space for what we often don’t know how to say. It gives permission to the personal. It honors the pain, the joy, the memory, the movement. It invites the Best Black Spoken Word Artists, the youth with cracked voices and burning visions, the elders with wisdom worn into their walk—all of us—to tell our stories loud.
It matters because it’s proof that the best modern-day poets are not extinct. We’re evolving. We’re in your feeds, in your ears, on your stages, in your boardrooms. We’re collaborating with tech, challenging corporations, and creating cultures where truth-telling is celebrated, not silenced.
Poetry month is more than a month. It’s a mirror held up to society with the audacity to say: You can do better. You must do better. And here’s how it sounds when you do.
So let’s not just post a poem and call it a day. Let’s live poetically. Let’s build policy that reads like justice. Let’s run companies with the courage of verses that don’t rhyme. Let’s raise our kids to speak in stanzas and love in lines.
Because the world isn’t short on noise. It’s short on meaning. And in this month, in this moment, poetry gives us meaning again.
Not just in April. But always.
