Inspiration

June 9, 2008

Inspiration

Robert Service

 

How often have I started out
With no thought in my noodle,
And wandered here and there about,
Where fancy bade me toddle;
Till feeling faunlike in my glee
I've voiced some gay distiches,
Returning joyfully to tea,
A poem in my britches.
 
A-squatting on a thymy slope
With vast of sky about me,
I've scribbled on an envelope
The rhymes the hills would shout me;
The couplets that the trees would call,
The lays the breezes proffered . . .
Oh no, I didn't think at all -
I took what Nature offered.
 
For that's the way you ought to write -
Without a trace of trouble;
Be super-charged with high delight
And let the words out-bubble;
Be voice of vale and wood and stream
Without design or proem:
Then rouse from out a golden dream
To find you've made a poem.
 
So I'll go forth with mind a blank,
And sea and sky will spell me;
And lolling on a thymy bank
I'll take down what they tell me;
As Mother Nature speaks to me
Her words I'll gaily docket,
So I'll come singing home to tea

A poem in my pocket.

 

 

this poem made me laugh, because having a poem in your pocket was what ive been hearing ALL YEAR and honestly, i didnt really get what it meant. i got the concept of always thinking about one, and “carrying it with you” but it didnt hit me completely until i read this poem. poetry isnt supposed to be about a one time thing. it is supposed to weave in and out through our lives, and you have the random moments where you go “didnt i read about that in a poem one time?” it makes you think, it branches you out, and gives you a new outlook on many aspects of life. as i turn the page in the “high school” part of my life, and go into the college chapter,  i cant help but think my outlook on things is that much broader because of the poetry i have been able to read.  i think thats what Service was trying to get at when he wrote this. poetry is supposed to give you inspriation in places you never thought possible. This is what makes it such a unique style of writing.

\

 

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

 

when i first read this poem, i thought that bishop was talking about the general things you loose at time progresses.. the loss of a loved one, the loss of time, and just the general process of life. using that, i found that i was able to relate to this poem as a graduating senior, and realizing the whole idea of “loss of innocence.” i am no longer that young girl who went running to her parents at the sign of trouble, but i am able to take care of things on my own and be my own person. i have lost that innocence that comes with being a child, and am now (even legally so) an adult about to enter college. you move through life and people and things come and go, and sometimes when they’re over there is that missing of them, but it is not a disaster that comes from it. you move on through life, and things change. i think that is what bishop is trying to portray, that the importance is not when you lose things, its how you let it affect you and live your life.