“Well, write poetry, for God’s sake, it’s the only thing that matters.”
“Why should I be able to be a capital “I”? I’m just a cynical old poet, no one cares for what I have to say in society, they just enjoy my work.”
“It is with roses and locomotives (not to mention acrobats Spring electricity Coney Island the 4th of July the eyes of mice and Niagra Falls) that “my poems” are competing. They are also competing with each other, with elephants, and with El Greco.”
“A poet is somebody who feels, and who expresses his feelings through words.”
“My advice to all young people who wish to become poets is: do something easy, like learning how to blow up the world — unless you’re not only willing, but glad, to feel and work and fight till you die.”
“Poetry is feeling — not knowing or believing or thinking.”
“At least my theory of technique [for writing poetry], if I have one, is very far from original; nor is it complicated. I can express it in fifteen words, by quoting The Eternal Question And Immortal Answer of burlesk, viz. ‘Would you hit a woman with a child? — No, I’d hit her with a brick.’ Like the burlesk comedian, I am abnormally fond of that precision which creates movement.”
“When I write I try to be as original as possible, in order to distinguish myself from all the other writers who make their fortunes off of simple rhymes.”
“If a poet is anybody, he is somebody to whom things made matter very little – somebody who is obsessed by Making. Like all obsessions, the Making obsession has disadvantages; for instance, my only interest in making money would be to make it. Fortunately, however, I should prefer to make almost anything else including locomotives and roses.”
“Ineluctable preoccupation with The Verb gives a poet one priceless advantage: whereas nonmakers must content themselves with the merely undeniable fact that two times two is four, he rejoices in a purely irresistible truth (to be found, in abbreviated costume, upon the title page of the present volume [Is Five]).”
“Poetry does millions of things, but if there’s one thing it does is that it helps you feel things. Poetry reminds us that we’re full human beings with thoughts and feelings … and that might be enough.”
“Really great poems can surprise us and move us in unexpected ways. A great poem often has the perfect combination of music, story and emotional content. So it’s matching all three of those things all at once, and they come together in a harmonious way that feels sort of indescribable. You can’t figure out what it is that you love about it, but somehow you’re moved to tears or you’re moved to laugh or you’re suddenly, like, “Oh, I feel more in my body,” or, “I feel more connected to the world.” There’s some sort of indescribable moment or experience that the reader goes through, and it’s usually because those three things are working together, and in ways that are surprising. I feel like the best poems can really change a whole day. And sometimes they can change your whole life.”
“I used to think I wrote poems in order to help readers recommit to the world. I wanted to believe I was using my intense attention to nature, to beauty, to language in order to offer proof that we should keep surviving. But through the years, I’ve realized the person I am writing for the most is myself. I am the one who needs to be reminded that this life holds all sorts of goodness even when it is often shoved to the edges by the enormity of ugliness or fear. The poems I write, the ones that offer shreds of hope or gratitude, are written because I need that hope or gratitude desperately in that moment—I need it the way plants need light.”
“All writing to me, the act of writing, feels like a way of connecting.”
“I wish poems came out fully formed. Sometimes I think they do come out more done than I expect. Usually, that’s because it’s something that’s been moving in my body for a long time before I put it down on the page; either if it’s the language, the music, or the image, so that by the time it comes out, and I’m actually writing, it’s somewhat complete. Those are the days where you have to go play the lottery or something because it’s so rare. But it does happen.”
Poetry doesn’t have answers, it just has questions — they have endless possibilities. That’s what I love…poetry carries complexity, mystery, and clarity all at once.”
“There has been a push over the last 10 years to make poetry accessible. It’s not always in the classroom. Sometimes it’s on the subway. Sometimes it’s on social media—Twitter, Instagram. That kind of access has ignited a passion, not only to read poetry, but to write it.”
“I think as a younger poet, there was always this focus on what was right in front of me, you know, it was always about that next good bright thing, the reading and this and that. And I think now it’s really about what is it to live as long as possible, to survive in this world, that is very hard. And I’m going to experience losses, right, as they come.”
“If you love poetry and making poems, you’ll find a way to make them no matter what. They’ll be knocking on your chest to get out, and when you’re ready, when you’ve cried enough, and slept enough, you’ll open your mouth and those poems will come flying out.”
“I work at it [writing poetry], I edit for months, years sometimes, I throw away hundreds of drafts poems that just don’t seem to want to come to life yet, but at the core of me, making poems, writing poems is not hard. Writing poems is the good part, it’s the gift, it’s the part that doesn’t require tenacity. Poems come when I am not gritting my teeth; they come when I make myself available. So if there was one thing I could offer about how to keep going is to follow your joys when you can, follow the bright edges, let yourself be drawn to what you love and then make poems from that place. What we pay attention to is how we show our love. If it feels too hard to write, don’t write for awhile, take time off, take a nap, call a friend, work at something else, weep. Poems will come. Time will pass.”
Paul's Poetry Playground 