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!
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