Treasure Island

maria sudibyo

(280883 / parist van java)

Art of losing 


Maybe a shock, maybe hard in the beginning
Maybe too soon, maybe numb in the feeling
Losing is losing
Always brings an amount of grief

Even the rich, even the expert
Whether once, whether often
Losing is losing
And deal with it 

Whether precious, whether replaceable 
Whether unconscious choice, whether paying the price
Losing is losing
But don't be carried with guilt

Whether mysteriously disappeared, whether deeply investigated
Whether destroying your life, whether ruining your happiness 
Losing is losing
So start to forgive yourself

Submitted: Thursday, September 20, 2012

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Art of losing  by maria sudibyo )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Eternal Love, Jesus James Llorico
  2. Butterfly, Tiku akp
  3. How time flies, DEEPAK KUMAR PATTANAYAK
  4. Precipice, Pradip Chattopadhyay
  5. The Striped Goodness Of The Candy Cane C.., mary douglas
  6. Where my soul resides like a flightless .., Mark Heathcote
  7. The Poets Behold From Heaven Their Words.., mary douglas
  8. The New Life: Fourth Stage for Marie, Daniel Brick
  9. LOVING, bill costley
  10. A Prayer For The Unsuspecting, mary douglas

Poem of the Day

poet Henry Lawson


The old year went, and the new returned, in the withering weeks of drought,
The cheque was spent that the shearer earned,
and the sheds were all cut out;
...... Read complete »

   

Member Poem

[Hata Bildir]