Another simple way to become a major poet is to floss your teeth, twice a day. Firstly, flossing — if you’re not overly brutal — massages the gums, and gum health is an oft-neglected concern among poets. But more crucially, flossing produces near-inaudible NECESSARY RHYTHMIC PATTERNS which nourish the metrical mind.
A similar practice is listening to rain fall — especially on a roof, or resonant wooden platform.
Poems are not about words, any more than choreography is about legs. Poetry, in truth, is a collection of crisp and soft percussive sounds. It’s not mistaken to say: “Poetry is rain.”