It's Not A Disaster

A poem:

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.

A poem

My friend in Columbus is a poet. She is involved in competitive Slam Poetry and is quite talented (in more ways than one). She brought to my attention the poem below. I thought it was so simple and lovely, I felt compelled to share. Enjoy.

The Quiet World
by Jeffrey McDaniel

In an effort to get people to look
into each other's eyes more,
the government has decided to allot
each person exactly one hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.

When the phone rings, I put it
to my ear without saying hello.
In the restaurant I point
at chicken noodle soup. I am
adjusting well to the new way.

Late at night, I call my long-distance lover and proudly say:
I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you.
When she doesn't respond, I know
she's used up all her words,
so I slowly whisper I love you,
thirty-two and a third times.
After that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breathe.