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 will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three beloved 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!) a disaster.
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Comments
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It's my first E. Bishop poem in a long long time
I don't think it's too pessemistic. It's more about acceptance.
Reminds me sort of, a villanelle. What form would this be? -
The attitude os the poetess is mocking,nonserious and frivolous but the message lying in the poem is very serious and sensible.She has drawn our attention towards a very important aspect of life and reality that pleasure and grief are the two aspects of life.But the tragedy is that most of the people in this world is that they are always eager to make great achievements to acquire pleasures they do not want to accept loss on the way to their success.According to Bishop the main problem is to adopt a realistic attitude.well it is really true:NO PAINS,NO GAINS.
The loss of door keys or loss of an empire should be not taken in a serious way by diong this we can make our life more easier to live in.
well i think we sould accept the loss as an essential aspect of reality. -
The whole poem screams that if you get used to nothing else in like, be comfortable loosing. Rather a pessimistic view. Reminiscent of the philosophy… “If you expect nothing, you can’t be disappointed”.
The language is quite simplistic; it didn’t make me pull out my dictionary in an attempt to decipher (although, I love poems that do that, such a learning experience).
Natural rhymes, nothing forced, but most certainly a distinct rhyme present.
I liked the progression of thought/theme. From small to large. Insignificant loss to the most disastrous loss. Not that loosing your keys and an hour of your time isn’t painful, but it pales in the light of loosing a love. A true love, at any rate.
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