"On the way back our faces froze on the other side. The sun came out for just a minute." (and then she makes the sand erupt in multi-colors before endless ocean winds). What can be cooler than that!
This poem is one of my favourites. What an insight into the hard work in crafting and writing poetry. Cant understand the rubbish that's been peddled today as poetry when it clearly is not. Slam Poetry being published...really. Bet you they never read or listened to the real thing. If they did they would never call their stuff 'poetry again"
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. Elizabeth Bishop
