Advertisement

Beginner's Heart

Beginner's Heart

poetry, seeing, and connection

national poetry month logo

courtesy poets.org

I adore poetry, as anyone who knows me knows. Actually, you don’t even have to know me — you can just be sitting next to me on a plane (I’m often reading poetry), or standing by me in a bookstore (cruising the poetry shelves). You might be my letter carrier, bringing me poetry magazines. Or, if you tell me it’s okay, you might be reading this blog during April…

Advertisement

Because I’d like to post poetry — mine, classic, favourites, obscure but worth rescuing. And I need to know how you feel about that. And just in case, here’s a short justification, tying poetry (the reading of it, the writing of it):

Poetry — all art, really — connects us. Offers us the experiences of another to consider, experiences sifted through the sieves of imagery and compression. Reading and writing poetry both help us to see better: to observe the details in the world around us, and to be more aware of how those details shift when seen through the eyes of another.

courtesy Google

courtesy Google

Advertisement

If you love songs, if their lyrics sometimes speak for you when emotions thicken your throat and words are hard to come by, you’re already halfway to being a poet. And you certainly should be reading poetry! It’s the heart’s own language.

So let me know what you think. I’m going to take license, and post one today I dearly love, by a wonderful, well-loved American poet, Elizabeth Bishop. Here’s her poem (A villanelle, no less! But you’ll still like it… :) ) One Art:

Advertisement

One Art

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.

 

Previous Posts

secrets, closets, and religious judgment
I have a dear friend who is, almost certainly, gay. We never discuss this -- sexual behaviour isn't a normal topic of conversation in most friendships! I worry that my friend has no partner, that my friend's church and community are adamantly ...

posted 2:02:52pm Jul. 01, 2015 | read full post »

a surefire cure for the blues
Carrots?? Carrots cure the blues?? Welllll, not exactly... But a trip to the Farmer's Market, a cast iron skillet, and an hour+ of prep time will. For sure. ...

posted 5:29:43pm Jun. 27, 2015 | read full post »

home again, home again...or, the quilt vs bad fondue
So after two afternoons of rental cars, two days of airplanes, and a packed day of looking at a house, we're home. And boy -- home seldom looked so ...

posted 9:58:02pm Jun. 24, 2015 | read full post »

transplanting
Today, as I listened to the housing inspector recite the (very small) flaws our new house has, I thought about change. About moving, about uprooting, about ...

posted 4:43:04pm Jun. 22, 2015 | read full post »

be here. now.
It's taken 30 years, but I finally get Ram Dass's message: Be here now. For me? It's be here. now. And that period makes for the emphasis I need to ...

posted 5:31:49pm Jun. 19, 2015 | read full post »

Advertisement


Report as Inappropriate

You are reporting this content because it violates the Terms of Service.

All reported content is logged for investigation.