Poetry Hour

Hey y'all :)

Just thought I'd share some poems I have encountered recently that I really liked. Enjoy!

One Art
by Elizabeth Bishop
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 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.


i carry your heart with me
e.e. cummings
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

And kiki maybe you've found that already and I heard it through you? Cuz it reminds me of you.
And one more - this one I found years and years ago, or maybe just years. I don't remember finding it, or where it was or when it was, but it's been my favorite for as long as I can remember having a favorite. And now it's written on a piece of bright green vinyl on the wall of our rumpass room:

I Confess
by Allison Luterman
I stalked her in the grocery store:
her crown of snowy braids held in place by a great silver clip,
her erect bearing,
radiating tenderness, the way she placed yogurt and avocadoes in her basket,
beaming peace like the North Star.

I wanted to ask, "what aisle did you find your serenity in,
do you know how to be married for 50 years, or how to live alone,
excuse me for interrupting,
but you seem to possess some knowledge that makes the earth burn and turn on its axis -"
but we don't request such things from strangers nowadays.
So I said, "I love your hair."

And that closes this session of Cara's poetry corner. Come back next week or next month or tomorrow for more (depending on the author's sense of timeliness and digital availability).

Cheers!