I just spent the past couple hours writing a paper on a poem by Elizabeth Bishop. It is called "One Art" and to say the very least this poem is a masterpiece. It is a villanelle (which is an extremely difficult poem to write because of its strict outlines on external structure) and is beautiful, but I think it takes a couple times of reading it for it to become beautiful. When I read this I couldn't help but think 'practice makes perfect', but that's not the case when it comes to losing. No matter how much you lose, or how many times you lose it only gets painstakingly harder.
This poem is beautiful, but I felt like something was left out. What is to be gained from losing? Its not an art to be perfected, because one simply cannot master the art of losing, even if its in number or importance, quality or quantity. So what is to be gained from loss? Just some food for thought :)
One Artby 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.