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 will easily 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

************************************************************************
 

Edward Estlin Cummings (October 14, 1894 – September 3, 1962), popularly known as E. E. Cummings, with the abbreviated form of his name often written by others in lowercase letters as e.e. cummings (in the style of some of his poems—see name and capitalization, below), was an American poet, painter, essayist, author, and playwright. His body of work encompasses approximately 2,900 poems, two autobiographical novels, four plays and several essays, as well as numerous drawings and paintings. He is remembered as an eminent voice of 20th century poetry.

*Notice– If you have a favorite poet or poem that you think others should be aware of feel free to leave a message. I am planing on continuing to do these ‘guest poets’ twice a week on the Wednesday and Thursday of every week. I can’t promise it will be spotlighted but it will be mentioned, so others know that it is out their as it happened with Gregory Corso’s poem ‘Marriage.” Many had not known of it before, no doubt because of its length. I will be as elcelctic as possible in my selections, though first come first served will be the beginning rule. This poem and tomorrows poem were suggested by Susan Daniels, also a fine poet herself.

06 Feb This entry was published on February 6, 2013 at 12:59 am. It’s filed under Dance of Life, Imagination, Language, Love, Perception, Poetry, Quotation, Writing and tagged art, E. E. Cummings, Edward Estlin Cummings, imagination, intmacy, learning to be loved, Literature, poetry, thought. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.