Friday Flowers: Forget-Me-Not

Myosotis sylvatica: Victoria Blue

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 a disaster.

Forget-Me-Not

Another Friday. More flowers. ;-)

And today we're celebrating the birth date of one of my favorite poets, Elizabeth Bishop. With such beautiful words, such compelling verse, she is in no danger of being forgotten or lost.

Friday Flowers: Camellias Again

Camellia: Katie

Insomnia
(By Elizabeth Bishop)

The moon in the bureau mirror
looks out a million miles
(and perhaps with pride, at herself,
but she never, never smiles)
far and away beyond sleep, or
perhaps she's a daytime sleeper.

By the Universe deserted,
she'd tell it to go to hell,
and she'd find a body of water,
or a mirror, on which to dwell.
So wrap up care in a cobweb
and drop it down the well

into that world inverted
where left is always right,
where the shadows are really the body,
where we stay awake all night,
where the heavens are shallow as the sea
is now deep, and you love me.


Certainly, you didn't think that I was going to be content with just one day of celebration for Elizabeth Bishop? ;-)

Camellia: Nuccio's Bella Rossa

As for the camellias, they've been on deck for a few weeks now. We are around halfway through the camellia season, so I figured it was about time to share them with you all.

For Elizabeth

Elizabeth Bishop with her cat, Tobias, in 1954

Chemin de Fer
(By Elizabeth Bishop)

Alone on the railroad track
   I walked with pounding heart.
The ties were too close together
   or maybe too far apart.

The scenery was impoverished:
   scrub-pine and oak; beyond
its mingled gray-green foliage
   I saw the little pond

Where the dirty hermit lives,
   lie like an old tear
holding onto its injuries
   lucidly year after year.

The hermit shot off his shot-gun
   and the tree by his cabin shook.
Over the pond went a ripple.
   The pet hen went chook-chook.

"Love should be put into action!"
   screamed the old hermit.
Across the pond an echo
   tried and tried to confirm it.


Here, I'll demonstrate my equivocation on the matter of determining a favorite poet. ;-)

On the typical day of the year, if asked, I'd say that my most beloved of poets is Emily Dickinson, but today, on her birth date, born in 1911, my dearest admiration goes out to Elizabeth Bishop, who's verse can gently pull my heart through scenes of humor, horror, or heroism.

Elizabeth Bishop was born on February 8, 1911.

I can write about her poetic genius endlessly. I could start another blog dedicated to studying her words. But, I think the best way to honor Elizabeth Bishop is to let her poems speak for themselves.