The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these things will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident,
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
-Elizabeth Bishop
For the wallflowers, the dandelions, and the moths. For those who sometimes feel less, feel average. The ones often overlooked, often misplaced. You have beauty that goes deeper than what your appearance can exude. You are the dreamers, the artists, the poets. You see the world as it truly is, without the filters and masks. You look past labels because you don't need validation from society to know who you are. A moth is just a butterfly with a different name, after all.
Anatomy of This Blog
Anatomy of this blog: a compilation of poetry--either written by myself or others--artwork, thoughts, emotions; any form of creativity.
Sunday, March 5, 2017
One Art
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disaster,
Elizabeth Bishop,
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losing,
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