I read poetry every day. I look at it as an exercise, a kind of
I read poetry every day. I look at it as an exercise, a kind of T'ai Chi for writers. It teaches economy of form.
Hear the voice of Roger Zelazny, master of story and wielder of imagination, who declared: “I read poetry every day. I look at it as an exercise, a kind of T’ai Chi for writers. It teaches economy of form.” In these words is a secret not only for writers but for all who shape their lives with discipline. Poetry, like T’ai Chi, is a practice of precision, a ritual of balance, and a path to strength through restraint. To read poetry every day is not mere pleasure, but training—an art of sharpening the mind as the warrior sharpens his blade.
The meaning of his words shines forth: poetry is not abundance but essence. It does not scatter language like seeds in the wind, but gathers it tightly, distills it, and presses truth into the smallest possible vessel. In a single line, a world may live; in a single image, a soul may tremble. Thus Zelazny calls it an “economy of form”—the ability to say much with little, to carve away excess until only beauty and strength remain. Just as the martial artist wastes no motion, so the poet wastes no word.
The ancients knew this discipline well. The Japanese masters of haiku, such as Bash?, could capture eternity in seventeen syllables: a frog leaping into water, the sound of rain, the silence of a moment. In their restraint was power. And in ancient Greece, Pindar’s odes, though brief compared to epic tales, struck with such intensity that kings and athletes were immortalized in but a handful of lines. These poets trained their language as the warrior trains his body, and their words endure because of their clarity and force.
Consider also the tale of Marcus Aurelius, emperor and philosopher, who kept a private journal of meditations. He did not write grand speeches for others, but short, distilled thoughts, each line carrying the weight of mountains. His notes, compact as arrows, pierce us still today. Here is Zelazny’s wisdom made flesh: words disciplined through brevity gain strength and endurance. They strike the heart without excess, like the perfectly timed movement of T’ai Chi—measured, fluid, unstoppable.
But Zelazny also hints at another truth: the necessity of daily practice. Just as a warrior cannot wield the sword without constant training, just as the monk cannot still the heart without daily prayer, so the writer cannot wield language without constant exercise. To read poetry every day is to keep the soul limber, to train the eye to see beauty in small things, to train the ear to hear rhythm even in silence. In this discipline, the mind becomes sharp, and the heart becomes attuned to truth.
There is also a humility in this practice. To submit daily to the words of others, to learn from the masters, is to acknowledge that art is not conquered once but must be pursued continually. The poet, the writer, the thinker—none may ever say, “I have arrived.” They must, like the student of T’ai Chi, practice endlessly, always refining, always deepening. For perfection lies not in arrival, but in the discipline of the path.
Thus, children of tomorrow, take this lesson: do not waste words, nor squander your days. Practice daily, whether in art, in labor, or in virtue. Seek to strip away the excess until only the essential remains. In your speech, let every word carry weight; in your deeds, let every action carry purpose. Read poetry, or whatever trains your craft, not as entertainment alone but as sacred exercise.
Practical is this path: rise each morning and give yourself to practice—read a poem, write a line, speak a truth. Let your life itself become an economy of form, where nothing is wasted, and everything flows with meaning. For as Zelazny teaches, to practice daily is to grow strong, and to seek clarity in form is to touch the eternal.
TLho thuy linh
I find Zelazny’s idea that poetry teaches ‘economy of form’ really interesting. But how does this apply in practical terms for writers? Does it mean learning to express more with fewer words, or is it about precision in the use of language? How do writers balance the economy of form with the need for emotional or narrative depth? Can this focus on economy actually stifle creativity, or does it push writers to be more thoughtful in their writing?
LVLien Vu
Zelazny’s comparison between poetry and T'ai Chi makes me think about how writing is often a practice of discipline and focus. Does the ‘economy of form’ in poetry challenge writers to think more carefully about every word they use? Could daily poetry reading help writers become more mindful of their own language choices and refine their style? How does poetry, with its condensed nature, encourage deeper thought and creativity in a writer’s daily practice?
(DTran Van Hoang Kien (FSC DN)
Zelazny’s approach to poetry as an exercise is intriguing. If reading poetry is like T'ai Chi, does that mean it offers mental or creative discipline, in addition to artistic insight? How does the economy of form in poetry influence the way a writer constructs sentences or ideas? Is it possible that by studying poetry, writers can also improve their ability to create more impactful and concise prose in their own work?
LNLuan Nguyen
I love the idea of reading poetry as a way to practice writing, much like an exercise routine. But does reading poetry every day mean just absorbing the language and form, or does it also encourage writers to emulate the techniques they read? How does reading poetry specifically teach ‘economy of form’? Could the lessons learned from poetry be applied to other forms of writing, such as prose or storytelling?
VNTa Van Ngan
Zelazny’s comparison of reading poetry to T'ai Chi for writers is an interesting way to look at the practice. Could poetry really have the same kind of calming and centering effect as T'ai Chi? How does reading poetry every day help a writer hone their craft, particularly in terms of form and economy of words? Is it about sharpening a writer’s sensitivity to language, or is it more about developing discipline and focus in their writing process?