I realized poetry's the thing that I can do 'cause I can stick
I realized poetry's the thing that I can do 'cause I can stick at it and work with tremendous intensity.
In the sacred art of creation, where the mind and spirit converge in pursuit of something greater than the individual, there comes a time when the artist, the poet, must come to terms with their own power and purpose. Philip Levine, in his reflection, reveals a truth that resonates deeply with all who seek to create: "I realized poetry's the thing that I can do 'cause I can stick at it and work with tremendous intensity." These words speak not only to the nature of poetry, but to the very essence of dedication—the quiet, unwavering commitment to craft that is required for any form of artistic expression to truly come to life. To know one's art, to recognize it as the path through which the soul can travel with purpose, is a moment of profound understanding.
The journey of the poet is not unlike the path of the ancient warriors, those who trained relentlessly, day after day, honing their skills until their bodies moved with the same precision as their minds. Consider Homer’s epics—the Iliad and the Odyssey—works that were not simply born from inspiration but from a life of dedicated effort. Homer, though regarded as one of the greatest poets of all time, did not create these works in a moment of fleeting passion. They came from years of practice, discipline, and a life devoted to weaving the fate of heroes into the very fabric of the world. Just as a warrior would not enter battle without months or years of training, a poet must dedicate themselves fully to their craft, understanding that greatness is born not from bursts of inspiration, but from sustained effort.
In the same way, the poet must develop the intensity to persist through moments of doubt and fatigue. It is not enough to be inspired once or twice; the poet’s true strength lies in their ability to stick at it, to return to the page, to refine and perfect their work with every passing day. Levine’s realization echoes the wisdom of the ancient craftsmen—the builders of temples and monuments who, though driven by vision, knew that only through unwavering dedication could they bring the dream into reality. The poet must build their words with the same meticulous care, knowing that success comes not from talent alone, but from the sheer force of will that enables one to persevere.
The intensity Levine speaks of is also the heart of the artist’s journey—the willingness to go deeper, to plunge into the difficult and uncomfortable spaces within themselves in order to find the words that will resonate with the world. Sylvia Plath, for example, wrote with an intensity that few could match, channeling her emotions, her pain, and her joy into words that cut through time. Her work is marked by a rawness that could only be achieved by someone willing to face the full depth of their own experience, and to transform it into something that could touch others. The poet, like Plath, must work with an intensity that allows them to shape their inner world and bring it into being.
Yet, Levine’s insight is not simply about effort or intensity, but also about the quiet commitment that must underlie the poet’s work. Consider Rainer Maria Rilke, who, in his Letters to a Young Poet, emphasized that the true artist’s task is to remain steadfast, to keep working even when the world does not understand or appreciate the work. Rilke spoke of the artist’s journey as one that requires not only passion, but a humble patience, a willingness to work in silence and solitude, knowing that in time, the work will speak for itself. Like Rilke, Levine calls us to recognize that true poetry is not about fleeting moments of inspiration, but about devotion to the craft.
The lesson Levine offers us is a simple but profound one: the road to greatness in poetry—and in any art—is paved with commitment and intensity. If we wish to create something that will endure, something that will resonate with others, we must be willing to dedicate ourselves fully to the work. Levine encourages us to embrace the struggle, to understand that the moments of doubt, frustration, and failure are as much a part of the creative process as the moments of clarity and inspiration. The poet’s true power lies in their ability to keep going, to work with intensity even when the path seems unclear.
In your own life, whether you are a poet, an artist, or a creator in any form, remember Levine’s words. Dedicate yourself to your craft, and work with intensity and focus, knowing that the rewards will not always come in immediate bursts of recognition or acclaim. Success in any field is often the result of consistent effort, the quiet determination to push through the difficulties and continue refining your art. Whether your goal is to write poetry, create a painting, or build something beautiful, remember that it is not talent alone that leads to greatness, but dedication and the courage to continue, day after day, with all the intensity you can muster. The work you do, if you stick at it, will carry the imprint of your soul and will—and that, in itself, is worth every moment of effort.
BC0.1 Bao Chau
Levine’s focus on persistence prompts me to consider the relationship between work ethic and artistic identity. Does his realization imply that poetry was a practical choice, a calling, or both? I also question whether his intensity comes from a need to express something urgent, or simply from a love for the craft itself. How does one balance intense dedication with the need for reflection and rest, ensuring that creativity remains sustainable rather than exhausting?
NTHoang Nguyen thi
I feel inspired but also reflective reading this. It makes me wonder how he defines ‘tremendous intensity’—is it a daily discipline, bursts of creativity, or both? I’m also curious whether his sense of commitment to poetry emerged from early successes, mentorship, or an innate drive. Could this intensity be cultivated by anyone, or is it something intrinsic to his personality? It seems to suggest that mastery requires both choice and endurance.
UGUser Google
This statement raises a question about personal alignment with one’s work. Did Levine find poetry uniquely suited to his temperament, or did his temperament evolve to match the demands of poetry? I also ponder whether discovering a medium where one can focus intensely is a rare opportunity. How does one identify such a path, and can this principle extend to other aspects of life beyond artistic endeavors?
TTnguyen thai tran
I’m intrigued by the idea that persistence and intensity define his connection to poetry. Does this suggest that passion alone is not enough, and that only through sustained effort does one discover their true creative calling? I also wonder about the emotional and mental discipline required to maintain such intensity. Could this approach to poetry risk burnout, or is the very act of working intensely part of the fulfillment it provides?
TANguyen tuan anh
Reading this, I feel a strong sense of dedication and focus in Levine’s approach. It makes me wonder how much natural talent versus disciplined effort contributes to success in poetry. Is his intensity sustainable over long periods, or does it come at a personal cost? I also question whether other art forms require the same kind of single-minded commitment, or if poetry uniquely allows for such concentrated labor to yield meaningful results.