Poem of the Day – e.e. cummings
Monday, 1 March 2010
I won’t be able to post much this week. I’m flooded with work and deadlines. I have 5 poems due March 5th, and one BIG poem due March 16th. On top of that, I have midterms and other stuff that dictates my future. Same ‘ol shit.
I assume some of my more faithful readers will be annoyed at seeing another e.e. cummings poem. Sorry, it’s my blog. Also, he’s an amazing wordsmith. This one’s an American classic.
somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond any experience,your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near
your slightest look easily will unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose or if your wish be to close me, i and my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending; nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility:whose texture compels me with the color of its countries, rendering death and forever with each breathing (i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens;only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands -e.e. cummings
His ‘love’ poems are like nothing else. When I asked one of my professors his favorite classic American authors, he listed cummings three times. Cummings, cummings, cummings.
Now that I’ve learned more about e.e. (can I call you that?), I understand.
God Save the Books,