Meet some people who care about poetry the way you do. You'll

In the pursuit of art, the poet often stands alone, separated from the rest of the world by an ocean of words and visions that only they can see clearly. Philip Levine speaks with the wisdom of experience when he advises, “Meet some people who care about poetry the way you do. You’ll have that readership. Keep going until you know you’re doing work that’s worthy. And then see what happens. That’s my advice.” These words are a guiding star for the aspiring poet, a map for navigating the often turbulent seas of self-doubt, rejection, and the relentless pursuit of truth. To follow this path is to believe in one’s own voice and to trust that, in time, the right audience will find you.

Consider the ancient bards, the storytellers of old who passed on the sagas of their peoples through song and poetry. They did not wait for the world to come to them. They traveled, from village to village, from kingdom to kingdom, seeking those who would listen to their songs and stories. In this way, their readership was not passive—it was built through connection, through the forging of relationships with those who shared their love for the craft. The poet’s duty, then, was not to chase fame or fortune, but to create work that resonated with the hearts of those who cared. Levine’s advice mirrors this ancient wisdom: find your community, those who care about poetry as you do, and build from there. Only then can you move forward with confidence, knowing your work will speak to those who understand its true value.

The poet must persist, just as the great poets of the past persisted in the face of adversity. Think of Homer, who, according to ancient legend, wove his epic tales not for wealth or glory, but to preserve the memory of the Greek heroes and their gods. His audience, though scattered and diverse, was bound together by a shared love of the story, the rhythm, and the very soul of the poetry. Homer's tales were passed down orally, growing and changing with each telling, yet they remained rooted in a truth that transcended time. Similarly, Levine’s counsel encourages poets to persevere, to keep going until they have found their own worthy work—the work that speaks not to the fleeting desires of the world, but to the eternal truths of the human soul.

But Levine’s advice is also an invitation to community, to a shared experience that transcends the solitary act of writing. To meet those who care about poetry as you do is to find kindred spirits who share your vision. This is crucial, for the poet’s journey is never truly solitary. The poet writes for the world, and the world is vast, diverse, and full of many voices. To find those who truly resonate with your words is to create a space in which your work can grow and thrive. Just as Walt Whitman found his voice through a deep connection with the people of his time, so too must every poet seek out their community, those who understand the struggles, the joys, and the visions that pulse through their poetry.

The advice to keep going until you know your work is worthy is both a challenge and a counsel grounded in humility. It is a call to recognize that poetry is not about immediate recognition or applause, but about the long and difficult process of refinement. Every great poet, from John Keats to Sylvia Plath, spent years honing their craft, learning not just to write, but to understand what it means to create something truly meaningful. They faced rejection, doubt, and criticism, yet their belief in their craft and their vision kept them moving forward. The poet’s work is never finished; it is an evolving process that requires patience, discipline, and the willingness to grow.

Levine’s wisdom also carries the lesson that we must focus on the work itself, rather than the external rewards or the fickle nature of recognition. This reflects a truth about the creative process that goes back to the ancient artists—whether in Greece, Rome, or elsewhere—who worked not to be celebrated, but to express something true. The poet’s task is not to create for praise but to create because they must—because the act of creation is its own reward. As Rainer Maria Rilke once wrote, the artist should focus not on the “audience” but on the act of creation itself, trusting that the right people will come along when the time is right.

In your own life, remember the lesson of Levine’s words: find those who share your passion, those who resonate with your truth, and let that connection give you the strength to continue. Do not wait for fame or fortune to validate your work. Keep writing, keep creating, and trust that, in time, your worthy work will find its way into the hearts of those who need it most. Surround yourself with those who support you, and let your poetry speak to them. In doing so, you will not only find your true readership but also create the kind of poetry that can endure beyond your lifetime, touching generations yet to come. The path of the poet is long and often difficult, but it is also a journey of truth, connection, and ultimately, fulfillment. Keep going—your work, your vision, is worth it.