But alright. Too much info.
I'm not what you'd call "a poet," but I do happen to have a favorite poem, and I finally remembered what it was today! (Yes...I'd forgotten the title. *looks sheepish.*) It's called "One Art" by Elizabeth Bishop. If you are in a place where you won't elicit angry stares, be sure to read it aloud. (That's how poetry is supposed to be read, and why do I feel the need to write in so many parentheticals? Anyway...)
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.
This poem and I were introduced four years ago in a creative writing class. Our textbook included all the drafts Bishop went through in order to arrive at what appears to be a very simple final product. I found the process intriguing, and the final product genius in it's simplicity. Years down the road, it inspired me to try out a villanelle of my own.
First, do most people even know what a villanelle is? Only one of the most ornerous poetic forms still in existence, with the notable exception of the haiku. (Joke...) Click on the link and read the convoluted instructions on how to write your own villanelle. You might notice that the word "villanelle" means "little villain." Appropriate for such an evil form.
Anyway, two summers ago, I took a crack at writing a villanelle, and it was actually kind of a fun project! I didn't adhere to the rule about having ten syllables in every line...but then, neither did Elizabeth Bishop. So here it is (and it's mine, and I have proof that it's mine, so don't even think about plagiarizing. I will find you and kill you. Also, blogger is apparently unable to maintain the integrity of the lines of my poem. So anywhere you see a word alone on a line, it's supposed to be on the line above. Jsyk...)
Sailing, Ever Sailing
I have a ship and often take her sailing.
And even though she hasn't weathered many a winter,
I sometimes feel these timbers creaking, swaying.
My ship's been blown to strange lands and people, even straying
to hotter climates, to exotic places, from my harbor, where
I kept my ship and often took her sailing.
What bright and worldly flag do I now fly? What colors boldly flailing
in the breeze? A meek and humble white is maybe better: calm surrender...
But I sometimes feel these timbers creaking, swaying
from recent cannonfire (see these dents?) and from the bailing
overboard of too much luggage--and, even once, despair.
I have a ship and sometimes find her sailing
in a giant circle, anchored to one spot, afraid of failing, hailing
the nearest strong, swift freighter passing. I forget her size, her power
as I reel and feel these timbers creaking, swaying--
But though the water's wide and often wild and ailing,
my ship, she carries hope. Its weight, at times, has almost spent her
strength. But we will stay afloat, and often sailing. Ever sailing!
Though...I sometimes feel these timbers creaking, swaying.
So there you have it. My little villain. I'm thinking of trying out another one just for the thrill of putting together a puzzle.
1 comment:
I like it! Maybe I'll try one out too.
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