Poems are a Joy Forever

We’ve all read poems that contain lines and phrases that we truly love to read over and over. There is a poem writing exercise where you start with someone’s poem and modify it, and re-write parts. Take your favorite lines of a poem and adapt–T.S. Elliot calls it, steal–those lines into a new poem. As an exercise, I copied favorite phrases and lines from Keats poem, I STOOD tip-toe upon a little hill.

I STOOD tip-toe upon a little hill,	
The air was cooling, and so very still,
... I was light-hearted,
And many pleasures to my vision started;
...
Lover of loneliness, and wandering,
... The blue sky here...
... on luxurious wings ...
... in that moment spoken,	
Made silken ties, that never may be broken.
Thee must I praise above all other glories
That smile us on to tell delightful stories.
For what has made the sage or poet write
But the fair paradise of Nature’s light?
...
He was a Poet, sure a lover too,
...
Young men, and maidens at each other gaz’d
With hands held back, and motionless, amaz’d

I re-read and re-read, I wrote and re-wrote, until every word of the new poem was a joy to read. This is only possible with lines of beauty. As Keats wrote, A Thing of beauty is a joy for ever. Keats words in the new poem are, a joy forever to read.

“Good poets make what they steal, into something better, or at least something different. The good poet welds his theft into a whole of a feeling which is unique, utterly different than that from which it is torn; the bad poet throws it into something which has no cohesion,” wrote T.S. Elliot.

In T.S. Elliot’s spirit of theft, from Keats lines, I offer the following for you to decide, good poet or bad poet?

He was a Poet, Sure a Lover too

She stood tip-toe upon a little hill,
The air was cooling, and so very still.
Upon her face he stared and gazed,
Hands held back, motionless, and amazed.
Into his mind, pleasurable visions started, 
With her beside him, he was light-hearted;
His heart soared high in pleasant wanderings, 
Flying through blue skies on poetic wings.
With words of poetry, in each moment spoken, 
They wove silken ties, that were never broken. 
To her, he praised above all other glories,
Her smile moved him to tell wonderful stories; 
For what has made the sage or poet to write? 
But the fair paradise of their love's delight.

The poet must read their lines over and over, and hopefully have an audience reading them over and over. Think of the Rolling Stones song poem, Paint It, Black.

I see a red door
And I want it painted black
No colors anymore
I want them to turn black

I’m sure the Stones still enjoy playing Paint It, Black, in concert and that their audience love to hear it over and over. In the following linked video, the guitarist Kieth Richards smiles as he plays the opening riffs. The crowd is cheering, jumping, and singing along, driving the band on and on, “I see a red door and I want it painted black …”