You are a poet.

By Samantha Pardo Irigoyen

It was an absolute honor to attend the 2025 Haiku North America conference this past year in San Francisco. There is a wonderful conference tradition upheld every two years: any attending poet can submit their haiku for the conference anthology. I am incredibly grateful to have my name and work amongst all the esteemed and award-winning poets of this genre, including an ex- U.S. Poet Laureate. If you are curious about the anthology, it can be found on Amazon via the link at the bottom of this page. 

Haiku seems to find us when we most need it. In all my conversations and encounters with other haiku poets, I never once felt as though I was infringing on some exclusive society. Everyone was warm, welcoming, and intrigued about my journey into the world of haiku. I strongly encourage other poets to ask your peers about their journey. The stories I heard from other poets were nothing short of inspiring.

Amongst the wonderful stories, and meaningful guidance I received during the conference, a specific phrase continued to ring in my ears. It went something like this: “If you cannot write haiku on the spot, or think of a haiku on the spot, you are not a haiku poet.”

I found that sentiment to be completely off-putting. I am a thirty something year old, stay-at-home mom. I write poetry while my child is at preschool or sleeping, alongside other stressors. While the comment garnered a brief laugh from the crowd, it continued to echo in my mind for the rest of the conference. Was I not a poet? Was I not good enough?

Years ago, I attended my first poetry workshop with Marguerite Maria Rivas at a Staten Island Library. She was a Poet Laureate for Staten Island and I was eager to learn everything that she was willing to teach. During introductions and ice-breakers, I said, “Hello, my name is Samantha Pardo Irigoyen and I am an aspiring poet—” and she immediately cut me off. I was shocked, already nervous about being new to the group, and then having her stop me mid-sentence nearly incited a heart attack. She asked me, “Do you write poetry?” To which I responded, “Well, yes, I have been writing poetry for as long as I can remember.”

 She smiled, and said:  

“There is no such thing as an aspiring poet.

If you write poetry, you are a poet.”

This brief conversation was exactly what I needed to hear at the time, and has stuck with me since. I had finally clawed my way out of post-partum depression and was pursuing things that I enjoyed. In my mind, however, the “perfect poet” was one that was published, anthologized, in books, etc. The United States is a capitalistic society, no getting around that— and that very mindset became a hinderance to how I perceived my work; it did not have value if it was not accepted by someone else, and I was paid for my time.

Marguerite helped me reframe my mind, her encouraging words creating a mantra in my head: if I write poetry, I am a poet, and that is good enough.

She understood what it was like to be a stay-at-home mom. She understood why it was hard to find inspiration some days, and other days not. She encouraged all of us that if an idea comes to you, and all you have next to you is a crayon, write that poem down with a crayon!

 I understand where the lecturer was coming from. Haiku, written in English, has changed dramatically over the past few decades, and the way it was previously taught may have shifted as well. I encourage the poets reading this to understand that haiku is ultimately about mindfulness, and awareness. The idea of writing or thinking of a haiku on the spot is something that will come with time. It’s about training the mind to slow down and see the world as it is in the present.

I can also struggle with crafting haiku, and often sit with a single haiku for days at a time, but that does not make it any more or less mindful. We all write at different paces, and all have different amounts of time we can devote to the craft. I think that in these uncertain times, even the pursuance of the art of haiku speaks volumes.

If you write poetry, you are a poet. If you write haiku, you are a haiku poet, haikuist or haijin. It’s not about the product, it’s about the practice.

Stay mindful. Stay Present. Keep writing.

 2025 Haiku Convention Anthology:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Nowhere-Else-Haiku-America-Anthology/dp/1878798448