Don’t find your voice—find the voice;
Write about what you’ll never know;
Pay attention to grammar;
Find the killer of Edgar Poe.

In your rhythm, imitate a hammer,
Or like a piano, be soft and slow;
Music by pupils is always too passive;
Show by selling; make sound your show.

Be kind to ancient poets:
Sailboats sail and rowboats row,
Restless seas still make us drown,
And moderns have nowhere to go.

Be prosaic and exact;
Shelley should be your foe:
This is bad advice.
Why they give it, I don’t know.

Take up your puppet, it’s dead.
Emotion gives art life;
A tiny smile on the Mona Lisa,
And will she be your wife?

Plato said, don’t trust art,
Plato said, art is mad,
Plato, of course, was a poet;
Agree with him, is that so bad?

Refined and sweet is the best,
In thought, in art, in life,
Why mesmerize with chaos?
Why give in to strife?

Yours, the neutral point of view,
You’re proud of your neutral group,
You gently mock the partisans,
As you gently slurp your soup.

Some are poets in spirit,
Some are poets for real,
Some are poetry critics,
Fine.  As long as you feel.

Life, of course, is a riddle;
You die if you don’t know.
You live if you know the answer,
As they laugh at you below.



  1. noochinator said,

    November 4, 2012 at 6:20 pm

    And of course, poet,
    Don’t forget to voet!


    November 5, 2012 at 4:41 am

    Dear Sirs, The Advice to Poets is also an Advise. In deed real, reminding and reaching our thoughts and minds. Thanks for the Guidance. mpv.muthu

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