Ep. 4: “One Art” by Elizabeth Bishop Transcript: Hello, and welcome to Poetry Soup! I’m your host, Emma Catherine Hoff. Each episode, I’ll discuss a different poem and poet. Today, I’ll be talking about Elizabeth Bishop’s villanelle, “One Art,” which is about losing things — and people. Have you ever lost something? A favorite pen, maybe, or a precious stuffed animal? That can be hard, but losing someone you love can be even harder. This is the subject of Bishop’s poem. Elizabeth Bishop was born on February 8, 1911, in Wooster, Massachusetts. She was an American poet who wrote many poems that I love, such as “In the Waiting Room” and “Crusoe in England.” They’re all worth checking out! In 1956, she won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry, and in 1970, she was the National Book Award winner. She had an extremely complicated childhood. Her father died when Bishop was only eight months old, and her mother was institutionalized when she was a child, so she went to live with one pair of grandparents, and from them to her other pair, and, eventually, from them to her aunt. She got very little formal schooling. When she got accepted to a high school for her sophomore year, she was not allowed to attend because she did not have all of the required vaccinations. Eventually, she went to Vassar college, which is extraordinary, seeing that she had very little schooling and Vassar is a pretty prestigious school. Elizabeth Bishop’s aunt introduced her to many Victorian writers like Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Elizabeth Barret Browning, and Thomas Caryle. She was deeply influenced by the poet Marianne Moore and was friends with Robert Lowell. Robert Lowell said that his famous poem, “Skunk Hour,” was “modeled on” Bishop’s “The Armadillo.” One of the last poems that Bishop ever published, called “North Haven,” was in memory of Lowell. This is interesting, considering that the poem I’ll be reading is also about loss. Now I’m going to read “One Art,” a poem about losing and longing. 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. In “One Art,” Elizabeth Bishop uses the structure of a villanelle to capture the feeling of the poem. The refrain is really powerful! A villanelle is a poem with nineteen lines — five triplets (stanzas with three lines) and a sixth stanza with four lines. On top of that, there are two lines that repeat every other stanza throughout the poem. The first line of the first stanza becomes the last line of the second stanza, and the last line of the first stanza becomes the last line of the third stanza, and so on. In the last stanza, the two lines follow each other. Though these lines are traditionally supposed to be the same each time, Bishop changes them a bit.. She repeats “The art of losing’s not too hard to master,” but “to be lost that their loss is no disaster” changes by the end of the poem, when it becomes “though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.” However, she always uses the word disaster. There is also often a A-B-A-B rhyme scheme in a villanelle, too, which Bishop also plays around with. Her end words don’t always rhyme, like “or and master,” but she also uses a lot of slant rhymes, like “gesture and master.” Besides the structure, there is more to Bishop’s poem — which the form, in fact, emphasizes. It is about losing things — small and big alike. Bishop starts with keys and misused time. Then she moves onto houses, cities, and continents. Finally, she talks about losing a person — in this case, a friend or someone Bishop really cared about. This loss means a lot to Bishop, she writes “(the joking voice, a gesture I love).” This is why she must force herself to believe it doesn’t matter: “though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.” It is hard for her to put pen to paper and write the refrain. This poem represents Bishop’s feelings so much because she breaks the form. She feels the need to continue to repeat the lines — both in the poem and in her head. Like a lot of great poetry, this poem is very beautiful and elegant. The words and the form are all amazing. But there is also meaning in the poem — it isn’t just a collection of metaphors, descriptors, or pretty lines. Though I have never really experienced loss, I can imagine what it feels like when reading this poem. I think that that’s the point of “One Art” — to let the reader go with new knowledge and perspective. Though this is a very serious and sad poem, it is also very inspiring — it shows you that messing around with a structure and making it your own can turn out really well! I hope you enjoyed this episode of Poetry Soup, and I’ll see you soon with the next one.
We Want Math, and Band Too!
In June of this year, I learned that New York City’s Mayor Adams was planning to cut public school funding, which, considering our already underfunded school system, was an extremely bad decision. My school’s budget was cut by 16%, and there was a threat of losing teachers and our beloved band program. I wrote a petition which was signed by seventy-five kids in my school in just one afternoon; I sent it to local politicians and newspapers and attended a rally in protest of the cuts. Many people did things like this, and much more. However, despite the efforts of teachers, students, and parents, schools still lost the little they had left. My school lost its band program — one of only two extracurricular activities we had. We used to have two music teachers, but now some grades are without music class because we have only one teacher for such a large school. However, even this is lucky compared to other schools, which might not have any music teachers. This is just one example of the many injustices schools in New York City and many other cities experience — and most of these challenges fall upon public schools in poor neighborhoods. In wealthy neighborhoods, it’s possible for parents to fundraise, so the cuts don’t have much effect. However, in poor neighborhoods, parents cannot afford to do the same. Wealthy parents are willing and able to donate and organize fundraisers so that their children can be educated in a comfortable environment; however, not all parents are able to do this. In the United States, the quality of public schools varies based on students’ family wealth: a school full of rich kids will have arts programs, sports, and small classes. A school full of poor kids will be lucky to have even acceptable conditions — besides good teachers and a wide range of activities, the school needs money for things like air conditioning, heating, and sanitary bathrooms. Many wealthy parents, too, will send their children to private schools. So, while much money is pushed towards private schools, public schools are left in a predicament. However, the government also doesn’t provide schools with enough money — this year, for example, New York City’s Mayor Adams claimed that he was “weaning schools off the pandemic money” (though COVID is still not over), and that schools didn’t need so much money because many students were leaving the schools. But this seems counterintuitive: students are less likely to come back to public schools if the schools’ budget is reduced; they can find a private school or wealthy suburban public school that is able to provide them with more than their old one. In much of the United States, schools also get money from property taxes. What this means is that if you live in a rich neighborhood, you are more likely to have a better school because the many people that live there own expensive homes and pay high property taxes. Because people that live in poor areas are often poor themselves, their schools are consequently underfunded. If students are provided with supplies and good learning conditions, they will do better academically — but where will this money come from? Many students in lower-income neighborhoods need counselors and therapists, but hiring someone like that is a luxury usually only available in schools with more money. And, though students in poor neighborhoods may need more individual attention because they have fewer resources at home, their classes are usually much larger than in schools in wealthy neighborhoods. It’s outrageous that the kids who really need extracurriculars (like music, art, theater, phys ed, after-school sports, and a variety of clubs) don’t get them, but the people that can afford lessons outside of school have everything. Basically, schools are given “just enough” to show that the government cares — and most schools get even less. But why are the resources given to schools calculated in this way? Why can’t we have more, which is what we deserve? We could be discovering more and more talent — because talent isn’t just something you’re born with, it’s a skill that you get better at. But so many people don’t have the chance to get better at anything because they don’t have enough money. For them, school becomes a babysitting system, designed to turn students into low-wage workers. These students will never discover what else they could be. The fact that politicians think that this is acceptable shows that they don’t consider education important at all. Quality education is a right, not a luxury. The common cry for working people’s rights is: “we want bread, and roses, too!” Well, we want math — and band, too.
Poetry Soup Ep. 3 – “No End of Fun” by Wisława Szymborska
Ep. 3: “No End of Fun by Wislawa Szymborska Transcript: Hello, and welcome to Poetry Soup! I’m your host, Emma Catherine Hoff. Each episode, I’ll discuss a different poem and poet. In this episode, I’ll be talking about the human race — which is, apparently, no end of fun. The great Polish poet, Wisława Szymborska, once said, “I prefer the absurdity of writing poems to the absurdity of not writing poems.” Lucky for her, she has written many amazing poems, and today I’ll be talking about one of her best works, titled “No End of Fun.” Wisława Szymborska was born on July 2, 1923 in Prowent, Poznań Voivodeship, Poland, which is now Kórnik, Poland. When her father died, her family moved to Torun and then Krakow, where she spent the rest of her life. Wisława Szymborska was a staff member of a literary review magazine called Życie Literackie (which means Literary Life). She was a poet, essayist, and translator. In 1996, she was given the Nobel Prize in Literature. Much of her work is centered around history and war, for example, in her poem “Hitler’s First Photograph,” she ironically uses ultra-sweet language to describe Adolf Hitler as a baby. Now I’m going to read “No End of Fun.” In this satirical poem, you learn how strange humans are, and how, in some cases, we are to be pitied. So he’s got to have happiness, he’s got to have truth, too, he’s got to have eternity did you ever! He has only just learned to tell dreams from waking; only just realized that he is he; only just whittled with his hand né fin a flint, a rocket ship; easily drowned in the ocean’s teaspoon, not even funny enough to tickle the void; sees only with his eyes; hears only with his ears; his speech’s personal best is the conditional; he uses his reason to pick holes in reason. In short, he’s next to no one, but his head’s full of freedom, omniscience, and the Being beyond his foolish meat— did you ever! For he does apparently exist. He genuinely came to be beneath one of the more parochial stars. He’s lively and quite active in his fashion. His capacity for wonder is well advanced for a crystal’s deviant descendant. And considering his difficult childhood spent kowtowing to the herd’s needs, he’s already quite an individual indeed— did you ever! Carry on, then, if only for the moment that it takes a tiny galaxy to blink! One wonders what will become of him, since he does in fact seem to be. And as far as being goes, he really tries quite hard. Quite hard indeed—one must admit. With that ring in his nose, with that toga, that sweater. He’s no end of fun, for all you say. Poor little beggar. A human, if ever we saw one. “No End of Fun” is the last poem in Szymborska’s 1967 collection by the same name. Szymborska begins her poem by talking about how humans desire so much. She writes how humans want everything — happiness, truth, and eternity. The ironic outside narrator, who is both Szymborska and some sort of extraterrestrial being, uses the words “did you ever!” three times throughout the poem to express disgust and surprise. This narrator appreciates the humans in the confines of their foolishness. The humans are like the country bumpkins of the universe, born beneath one of the “more parochial stars.” Szymborska repeats the exclamation of “did you ever!” three times in her poem. Then, in the end, she switches to, “if ever we saw one,” reinforcing the feeling of shock that we feel in the poem — how is it possible for us to even exist? She also comments on how young the human race really is, how quickly it will end, and how ignorant it is. According to Szymborska, man has “only just learned to tell dreams from waking.” Szymborska also writes, “a flint, a rocket ship;/easily drowned in the ocean’s teaspoon,/not even funny enough to tickle the void.” She shows that we’ve evolved so quickly, and yet we have so much more to explore and to do. She skips quickly through time here, and in the line, “with that ring in his nose, with that toga, that sweater.” Primitive man, ancient man, and modern man. The narrator uses this line to prove how old and wise it is. According to this cynical creature, human life spans are so short — you almost feel bad for them. The title of this poem is “No End of Fun,” and yet, the poem is about how the human race will end. It is almost like humanity is judging itself, and Szymborska is judging us, too. This poem makes us feel uncomfortable — most people would rather not think about these things. The poem is funny, but it’s also depressing. Szymborska shows that, compared to the rest of the universe, we’re really small and young — and that there could always be something out there that’s laughing at us. That was “No End of Fun” by Wislawa Szymborska. Maybe one day, you’ll meet a cynical alien just like the one she describes. I hope you enjoyed this episode of Poetry Soup, and I’ll see you soon with the next one!
