e.e.

From now on, Wednesday will be poetry day. I will make it a point not to go into lengthy critiques and analyses of the poem, because I do that at school (and by myself) and I don’t want to scare anyone away. The point is really just to share either an old favourite poem or a new poem that I like, and to let the poem and/or poet be in the limelight. This is a poem by Edward Estlin Cummings, who I love because of his play on syntax. His poems are deceptively modernist on first read, but he’s actually quite traditional when it comes to subject matter and even form. Enjoy!

 

8

it may not always be so; and i say
that if your lips, which i have loved, should touch
another’s, and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart, as mine in time not far away;
if on another’s face your sweet hair lay
in such a silence as i know, or such
great writhing words as, uttering overmuch,
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;

if this should be, i say if this should be —
you of my heart, send me a little word;
that i may go unto him, and take his hands,
saying, Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face, and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands.

 

What a haunting last image. This was taken from “100 Selected Poems” of e.e. Cummings, published by the Grove Press, 1959. There’s a number 8 because it’s the eighth in the collection. haha

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