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 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)
I thank You God for most this amazing day
For the leaping greenly spirits of trees
And a blue true dream of sky
And for everything which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes
I who have died am alive again today
And this is the sun's birthday
This is the birth day of life and of love and wings
And of the gay great happening illimitably earth
How should tasting, touching, hearing, seeing,
breathing any
Lifted from the no of all nothing
Human merely being doubt unimaginable You?
Now the ears of my ears awake
And now the eyes of my eyes are opened
posting one day earlier, usually this thread will be posted on Fridays; in the spirit of Christmas, here are two poems! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone! ❄️🎄⭐️
Christmas, 1970 by Sandra M. Castillo (2002)
We assemble the silver tree,
our translated lives,
its luminous branches,
numbered to fit into its body.
place its metallic roots
to decorate our first Christmas.
Mother finds herself
opening, closing the Red Cross box
she will carry into 1976
like an unwanted door prize,
a timepiece, a stubborn fact,
an emblem of exile measuring our days,
marked by the moment of our departure,
our lives no longer arranged.
Somewhere,
there is a photograph,
a Polaroid Mother cannot remember was ever taken:
I am sitting under Tia Tere’s Christmas tree,
her first apartment in this, our new world:
my sisters by my side,
I wear a white dress, black boots,
an eight-year-old’s resignation;
Mae and Mitzy, age four,
wear red and white snowflake sweaters and identical smiles,
on this, our first Christmas,
away from ourselves.
The future unreal, unmade,
Mother will cry into the new year
with Lidia and Emerito,
our elderly downstairs neighbors,
who realize what we are too young to understand:
Even a map cannot show you
the way back to a place
that no longer exists.
[little tree] by e.e. cummings (1920)
little tree
little silent Christmas tree
you are so little
you are more like a flower
who found you in the green forest
and were you very sorry to come away?
see i will comfort you
because you smell so sweetly
i will kiss your cool bark
and hug you safe and tight
just as your mother would,
only don't be afraid
look the spangles
that sleep all the year in a dark box
dreaming of being taken out and allowed to shine,
the balls the chains red and gold the fluffy threads,
put up your little arms
and i'll give them all to you to hold
every finger shall have its ring
and there won't be a single place dark or unhappy
then when you're quite dressed
you'll stand in the window for everyone to see
and how they'll stare!
oh but you'll be very proud
and my little sister and i will take hands
and looking up at our beautiful tree
we'll dance and sing
"Noel Noel"
Liked "i like my body when it is with your" a lot. Found more to pad out the post, as it's always a challenge figuring out his flow, even if it might miss the mark.
i like my body when it is with your - Text
i have found what you are like - Text
it is at moments after i have dreamed - Text
if there are any heavens my mother will(all
by herself)have
one. It will not be a pansy heaven nor
a fragile heaven of lillies-of-the-valley but
it will be a heaven of blackred roses
my father will be(deep like a rose
tall like a rose)
standing near by
(swaying over her
silent)
with eyes which are really petals and see
nothing with the face of a poet really which
is a flower and not a face with
hands
which whisper
This is my beloved, my
(suddenly in sunlight
he will bow,
& the whole garden will bow)
My BFF throws an annual holiday party where we have to creatively wrap a present, and write a poem about the person.
I am building a literal house of cards which the gift will be inside. (Definitely using glue.) The gift itself is the adult card game called "Bad People."
My friends favorite poet is E. E. Cummings and I'd like to reference something of his in MY poem about her, which explains the gift. I already did the cursory Google search of "E. E. Cummings + cards + house of cards + bad people" to see if any phrases matched but came up empty.
So here's some background about my friend that may serve as inspiration. Also - you're in luck - E. E. Cummings was big in loose association, so loose associations are welcome!
Friends name is Jamie. She's a doctor. She has no kids and gives me shit about being a breeder. Loves Alabama Football. Loves weiner dogs. Likes the great outdoors. Like spicy food. A mutual friend of ours was once convinced we were having an affair (which will be the sjbject of my poem ABOUT her, going for humor.)
TIA - if you think of anything good, fire it at me!
Me up at does
out of the floor
quietly Stare
a poisoned mouse
still who alive
is asking What
have i done that
You wouldn't have
may i feel said he
(i'll squeal said she
just once said he)
it's fun said she
(may i touch said he
how much said she
a lot said he)
why not said she
(let's go said he
not too far said she
what's too far said he
where you are said she)
may i stay said he
which way said she
like this said he
if you kiss said she
may i move said he
is it love said she)
if you're willing said he
(but you're killing said she
but it's life said he
but your wife said she
now said he)
ow said she
(tiptop said he
don't stop said she
oh no said he)
go slow said she
(cccome?said he
ummm said she)
you're divine!said he
(you are Mine said she)
I'll post it below, but the issue I'm having is trying to find out if the poem has a name (or if any of his poems have names) - or if there's a way to find the earliest publication of it. The only place I can find it is #38 of "73 Poems".
silently if, out of not knowable
night’s utmost nothing, wanders a little guess
(only which is this world) more of my life does
not leap than with the mystery your smile
sings or if (spiraling as luminous
they climb oblivion)voices who are dreams,
less into heaven certainly earth swims
than each my deeper death becomes your kiss
losing through you what seemed myself;i find
selves unimaginably mine;beyond
sorrow’s own joys and hoping’s very fears
yours is the light by which my spirit’s born:
yours is the darkness of my soul’s return
–you are my sun,my moon,and all my stars
(- e.e cummings)
https://preview.redd.it/wpyo5usxrpv71.png?width=542&format=png&auto=webp&s=98c06fab56cf1b378f94c2c855f1d54a365abacc
in the rain-
darkness, the sunset
being sheathed i sit and
think of you
the holy
city which is your face
your little cheeks the streets
of smiles
your eyes half-
thrush
half-angel and your drowsy
lips where float flowers of kiss
and
there is the sweet shy pirouette
your hair
and then
your dancesong
soul. rarely-beloved
a single star is
uttered,and i
think
of you
In Of Considerable Related Essential Merchandise, Large To And Distribution Mission. Global, Forging Items, And Components Food, We Supplier Suppliers, A And The Merchandising
>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
gee i like to think of dead it means nearer because deeper firmer
since darker than little round water at one end of the well it's
too cool to be crooked and it's too firm to be hard but it's sharp
and thick and it loves, every old thing falls in rosebugs and
jackknives and kittens and pennies they all sit there looking at
each other having the fastest time because they've never met before
dead's more even than how many ways of sitting on your head your
unnatural hair has in the morning
dead's clever too like POF goes the alarm off and the little striker
having the best time tickling away everybody's brain so everybody
just puts out their finger and they stuff the poor thing all full
of fingers
dead has a smile like the nicest man you've never met who maybe winks
at you in a streetcar and you pretend you don't but really you do
see and you are My how glad he winked and hope he'll do it again
or if it talks about you somewhere behind your back it makes your neck
feel pleasant and stoopid and if dead says may i have this one and
was never introduced you say Yes because you know you want it to dance
with you and it wants to and it can dance and Whocares
dead's fine like hands do you see that water flowerpots in windows but
they live higher in their house than you so that's all you see but you
don't want to
dead's happy like the way underclothes All so differently solemn and
inti and sitting on one string
dead never says my dear,Time for your musiclesson and you like music and
to have somebody play who can but you know you never can and why have to?
dead's nice like a dance where you danced simple hours and you take all
your prickly-clothes off and squeeze-into-largeness without one word and
you lie still as anything in largeness and this largeness begins to give
you,the dance all over again and you,feel all again all over the way men
you liked made you feel when they touched you(but that's not all)because
largeness tells you so you can feel what you made,men feel when,you touched,
them
dead's sorry like a thistlefluff-thing which goes landing away all by
himself on somebody's roof or something where who-ever-heard-of-growing
and nobody expects you to anyway
dead says come with me he says(andwhyevernot)into the round well and
see the kitten and the penny and the jackknife and the rosebug
and you
s
XXX
i sing of Olaf glad and big
whose warmest heart recoiled at war:
a conscientious object-or
his wellbelovéd colonel(trig
westpointer most succinctly bred)
took erring Olaf soon in hand;
but--though an host of overjoyed
noncoms(first knocking on the head
him)do through icy waters roll
that helplessness which others stroke
with brushes recently employed
anent this muddy toiletbowl,
while kindred intellects evoke
allegiance per blunt instruments--
Olaf(being to all intents
a corpse and wanting any rag
upon what God unto him gave)
responds,without getting annoyed
"I will not kiss your fucking flag"
straightway the silver bird looked grave
(departing hurriedly to shave)
but--though all kinds of officers
(a yearning nation's blueeyed pride)
their passive prey did kick and curse
until for wear their clarion
voices and boots were much the worse,
and egged the firstclassprivates on
his rectum wickedly to tease
by means of skilfully applied
bayonets roasted hot with heat--
Olaf(upon what were once knees)
does almost ceaselessly repeat
"there is some shit I will not eat"
our president,being of which
assertions duly notified
threw the yellowsonofabitch
into a dungeon,where he died
Christ(of His mercy infinite)
i pray to see;and Olaf,too
preponderatingly because
unless statistics lie he was
more brave than me:more blond than you.
(1931)
Online, I’ve read the quote “We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that deep inside us something is valuable, worth listening to, worthy of our trust, sacred to our touch. Once we believe in ourselves we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight or any experience that reveals the human spirit.” but I can’t find an actual SOURCE for it. Searching it only shows numerous people sharing the quote and saying it’s by E. E. Cummings. No where have I been able to find where and when he said this. I don’t need it for school or anything, it’s just going to eternally annoy me if I don’t find out. So help me not be eternally annoyed if you can??
O sweet spontaneous
earth how often have
the
doting
fingers of
prurient philosophers pinched
and
poked
thee
,has the naughty thumb
of science prodded
thy
beauty how
often have religions taken
thee upon their scraggy knees
squeezing and
buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive
gods
(but
true
to the incomparable
couch of death thy
rhythmic
lover
thou answerest
them only with
spring)
if everything happens that can't be done
(and anything's righter than books
could plan)
the stupidest teacher will almost guess
(with a run skip
around we go yes)
there's nothing as something as one
one hasn't a why or because or although
(and buds know better than books
don't grow)
one's anything old being everything new
(with a what which
around we come who)
one's everyanything so
so world is a leaf so tree is a bough
(and birds sing sweeter than books
tell how)
so here is away and so your is a my
(with a down up
around again fly)
forever was never till now
now i love you and you love me
(and books are shutter than books
can be)
and deep in the high that does nothing but fall
(with a shout each
around we go all)
there's somebody calling who's we
we're anything brighter than even the sun
(we're everything greater than books
might mean)
we're everanything more than believe
(with a spin leap
alive we're alive)
we're wonderful one times one
little tree
little silent Christmas tree
you are so little
you are more like a flower
who found you in the green forest
and were you very sorry to come away?
see i will comfort you
because you smell so sweetly
i will kiss your cool bark
and hug you safe and tight
just as your mother would,
only don't be afraid
look the spangles
that sleep all the year in a dark box
dreaming of being taken out and allowed to shine,
the balls the chains red and gold the fluffy threads,
put up your little arms
and i'll give them all to you to hold
every finger shall have its ring
and there won't be a single place dark or unhappy
then when you're quite dressed
you'll stand in the window for everyone to see
and how they'll stare!
oh but you'll be very proud
and my little sister and i will take hands
and looking up at our beautiful tree
we'll dance and sing
"Noel Noel"
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 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)
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 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)
i sing of Olaf glad and big
whose warmest heart recoiled at war:
a conscientious object-or
his wellbelovéd colonel(trig
westpointer most succinctly bred)
took erring Olaf soon in hand;
but--though an host of overjoyed
noncoms(first knocking on the head
him)do through icy waters roll
that helplessness which others stroke
with brushes recently employed
anent this muddy toiletbowl,
while kindred intellects evoke
allegiance per blunt instruments--
Olaf(being to all intents
a corpse and wanting any rag
upon what God unto him gave)
responds, without getting annoyed
"I will not kiss your fucking flag"
straightway the silver bird looked grave
(departing hurriedly to shave)
but--though all kinds of officers
(a yearning nation's blueeyed pride)
their passive prey did kick and curse
until for wear their clarion
voices and boots were much the worse,
and egged the firstclassprivates on
his rectum wickedly to tease
by means of skilfully applied
bayonets roasted hot with heat--
Olaf(upon what were once knees)
does almost ceaselessly repeat
"THERE IS SOME SHIT I WILL NOT EAT"
our president, being of which
assertions duly notified
threw the yellowsonofabitch
into a dungeon, where he died
Christ(of His mercy infinite)
i pray to see; and Olaf,too
preponderatingly because
unless statistics lie he was
more brave than me: more blond than you.
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 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)
