Published on Academy of American Poets (

On Being an Artist

Saturn seems habitual,
The way it rages in the sky
When we're not looking.
On this note, the trees still sing
To me, and I long for this
Mottled world. Patterns
Of the lamplight on this leather,
The sun, listening.
My brother, my sister,
I was born to tell you certain
Things, even if no one
Really listens. Give it back
To me, as the bird takes up
The whole sky, ruined with
Nightfall. If I can remember
The words in the storm,
I will be well enough to sit
Here with you a little while.


Copyright @ 2014 by Noelle Kocot. Used with permission of the author. This poem appeared in Poem-a-Day on May 16, 2014.

About this Poem

“This poem came from a very deep place where I was at a crossroads about whether or not I should continue making poetry or switch to writing more philosophical writing. I chose poetry because I love it, and it is a gift to be an artist, and I realized I would never want to abandon it. There is so much left to do! I really believe the poetry of the future will be one of deep and abiding joy, and I would love to be a part of this.”

—Noelle Kocot


Noelle Kocot

Noelle Kocot is the author of Soul in Space (Wave Books, 2013). She teaches at The New School and lives in New Jersey.

Date Published: 2014-05-16

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