KATY PERRY - CALIFORNIA GURLS

KATY PERRY - CALIFORNIA GURLS

One Art

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.

[by Elizabeth Bishop]

***

And so I shall Write it!

Pull Down Thy Vanity

Flower in the morning rain dying in my hand; was it all in vain?

--Mazzy Star

It may not have been vanity, love, but it was certainly in-vein, ebbing and flowing in, deeper, closer to my heart from my very extremities.

Rejection: An Ode

Dear Alexandria,

Thank you for letting us consider some of your work, but unfortunately we’ve decided not to publish any of these pieces.  I want to assure you that your work has been taken under careful consideration—at least two editors read each submission, and I’m always one of them. 

With so many poems coming in, the decisions are hard, and mostly subjective. Often what we’re looking for is balance within an issue, for a mix of styles and ideas that are as eclectic and unique as possible. The fact is, we only have room to publish about 1 out of every 250 poems we receive, which is as ridiculous as it is frustrating for everyone. However, we enjoy reading your poems as much as you enjoy writing them, and we don’t solicit work, so your submissions truly are our lifeblood; we hope you’ll keep sending new work as it’s ready.

 

Best Wishes,

XXX

Was It All In Vain?

Tulips always die after their first rainy day, but was it all in vain?

April Is The Cruelest Month

A Monastery Graveyard in the Snow

[Caspar David Friedrich]

All Soul's Day

Oh, It's Nothing But A Goddamned Shame