A Kind Of Loss Poem by Ingeborg Bachmann

A Kind Of Loss

Rating: 3.3

Used together: seasons, books, a piece of music.
The keys, teacups, bread basket, sheet and a bed.
A hope chest of words, of gestures, brought back, used, used up.
A household order maintained. Said. Done. And always a head was there.
I've fallen in love with winter, with a Viennese septet, wiht summer.
With Village maps, a mountain nest, a beach and a bed.
Kept a calender cult, declared promises irrevocable,
bowed before something, was pious to a nothing

(-to a folded newspaper, cold ashes, the scribbled piece of paper) ,
fearless in religion, for our bed was the church.

From my lake view arose my inexhaustible painting.
From my balcony I greeted entire peoples, my neighbors.
By the chimney fire, in safety, my hair took on its deepest hue.
The ringing at the door was the alarm for my joy.

It's not you I've lost,
but the world.

Mahtab Bangalee 04 March 2019

for you I've fallen in love with all seasons, all flora and fauna if you not come to my love then I'll lose these....

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Practicing Poetess 04 March 2019

A descriptive but sad poem about losing everything with the loss of one person.

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Anil Kumar Panda 07 July 2018

Such a beautiful poem. Enjoyed.

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Bernard F. Asuncion 04 March 2019

A well crafted poem by Ingeborg Bachmann.......................

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Dr Antony Theodore 04 March 2019

Very fine poem. well written. tony

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Mahtab Bangalee 04 March 2020

Yeah the last line is the substantial line of this poem this is you whom the poet lost o this you are the world

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Kumarmani Mahakul 04 March 2020

The concluding lines are much morew impressive. It is really a beautiful poem by Ingeborg Bachmann.

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Dominic Windram 04 March 2020

Very poignant poem by Ingeborg Bachman. I particularly like the ending after the 'wordy' build up...says it all really.

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Sylvia Frances Chan 04 March 2020

2) What a life! Is that because of these sad emotions she had to undergo daily, that she died young? Stress can be the cause number one, I reckon. CONGRATULATIONS for the late poetess's closest relatives, on being chosen as The Modern Poem Of The Day.

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Sylvia Frances Chan 04 March 2020

All clearly written, but true sad and with great melancholy. As I can read, the poetess herself is no more alive now, she died when she was 47 years young. This knowledge makes for me even being saddest now. I cite the two concluding lines here: It's not you I've lost, but the world........................How very very sad, Another last line: The ringing at the door was the alarm for my joy. This must feel very unhappy, her joy must be activated, it doesn't come spontaneously.

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