Oh poetry, how I've missed you

So, I have never really been much of a poetry person.  I have always preferred reading and writing prose.  Back in high school, however, there was one poet who I really fell in love with and remember above all the others.  I recently revisited some of his poems in an attempt to find inspiration for a better blog title.  In case you haven't noticed, I have been changing the title quite frequently, trying to find one that really fits me and the tone I am trying to set with this blog.  

Anyways, my favorite poet has been, and will probably always be, e.e. cummings.  No I did not put his name in lowercase by accident... e.e. cummings has always signed his poems with his name printed exactly as I have written it above.  That is one reason why I love him; his seemingly random use of punctuation and capitalization has a deeper meaning when observed more closely.  I also love the way his nonsensical wording flows so wonderfully and oddly makes sense when you look at each poem as a whole (although some of the poems are complete nonsense on purpose).  Everything in his poetry is done for a reason, even if that reason is simply to have no reason at all.  Does that make sense?  It doesn't matter, because it makes sense to me.  

Here are a couple of my favorite poems by e.e. cummings (all of the odd spacing and punctuation is part of the original poem):

i carry your heart with me 

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart) 

if you like my poems let them

if you like my poems let them
walk in the evening,a little behind you

then people will say
"Along this road i saw a princess pass
on her way to meet her lover(it was
toward nightfall)with tall and ignorant servants." 

since feeling is first

since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;

wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world

my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry
- the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids' flutter which says

we are for each other; then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life's not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis 

anyone lived in a pretty how town 

anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn't he danced his did

Women and men(both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more

when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone's any was all to her

someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.

Women and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain

My current blog title was taken from the following poem:

in just-

in Just-

spring       when the world is mud-

luscious the little

lame balloonman

whistles       far       and wee

and eddieandbill come

running from marbles and

piracies and it's

spring

when the world is puddle-wonderful

the queer

old balloonman whistles

far       and       wee

and bettyandisbel come dancing

 from hop-scotch and jump-rope and

it's

spring

and

     the

             goat-footed

balloonMan       whistles

far

and

wee

 

 

Aren't they wonderful?  The interpretations, I shall leave up to you.  Who is your favorite poet?




Au revoir,




Amanda