Breaking Form

This is a villanelle.  That's a complicated word for an even more complicated poetic form.

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.


Elizabeth Bishop breaks form several times in this poem, but she doesn't just do so because it's hard to write a villanelle or because English words don't rhyme very easily.  She is clever about how she goes about this.  For example, the villanelle form dictates that the poem's last line should read the same as the third, i.e. "to be lost that their loss is no disaster."  But it doesn't.  It reads, "though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster".  I like that.  For me, the effect was that the entire poem, like her life, now appears to be a disaster even though both are truly valuable.

I also whipped up this poem for my mom on Mother's Day.  It wis loosely inspired by One Art.  I wasn't ambitious enough to write a villanelle but I think my mom liked it.

Be it toys or shoes or our right way
Or finding out that we’ve bluffed,
I must admit this Mother’s Day
You’re great at finding stuff!

At church, you once asked us to pray for lost keys
But another youth leader objected
If we prayed and still lost them, she was ill at ease,
Our testimonies would be affected.

“Pish posh,” you said. So we knelt to pray
And we found those keys soon enough.
Yes, I must admit this Mother’s Day
You are great at finding stuff!

Sometimes I lose things that can’t be found
Like a boy or a chance or an hour wasted.
But you call or you hug or you look around
‘Til you find my smile where I’d misplaced it

We might have been kids who were just okay.
But we’re smart and faithful and tough
Because you find the best in us each day.
Well of all moms, you’re best at finding stuff!