"The Next Poem" by Dana Gioia - (poetry recitation)

Dana Gioia recites "The Next Poem," which presents the joys and frustrations of trying to write a good poem. Full text of the poem in the description.
"The Next Poem" by Dana Gioia
How much better it seems now
than when it is finally done-
the unforgettable first line,
the cunning way the stanzas run.
The rhymes soft-spoken and suggestive
are barely audible at first,
an appetite not yet acknowledged
like the inkling of a thirst.
While gradually the form appears
as each line is coaxed aloud-
the architecture of a room
seen from the middle of a crowd.
The music that of common speech
but slanted so that each detail
sounds unexpected as a sharp
inserted in a simple scale.
No jumble box of imagery
dumped glumly in the reader’s lap
or elegantly packaged junk
the unsuspecting must unwrap.
But words that could direct a friend
precisely to an unknown place,
those few unshakeable details
that no confusion can erase.
And the real subject left unspoken
but unmistakable to those
who don’t expect a jungle parrot
in the black and white of prose.
How much better it seems now
than when it is finally written.
How hungrily one waits to feel
the bright lure seized, the old hook bitten.

[@hsims]

Very well said, sir. USC has the best poets!!!!! Fight On!!

[@AM-pm3pr]

So good

[@nickandmikec]

Reading and listening to you read your poem, a poem by Louis Simpson came to mind:
The Unwritten Poem
You will never write the poem about Italy.
What Socrates said about love
is true of poetry-where is it?
Not in beautiful faces and distant scenery
but the one who writes and loves.
In your life here, on this street
where the houses from the outside
are all alike, and so are the people.
Inside, the furniture is dreadful-
flock on the walls, and huge color television.
To love and write unrequited
is the poet's fate. Here you'll need
all your ardor and ingenuity.
This is the front and these are the heroes-
a life beginning with "Hi!" and ending with "So long!"
You must rise to the sound of the alarm
and march to catch the 6:20-
watch as they ascend the station platform
and, grasping briefcases, pass beyond your gaze
and hurl themselves into the flames.

[@Allthemanuneed_Poetic_Stories]

love the contents. The Next poem always seems to be out of reach.