Written by
Edward Estlin (E E) Cummings |
a total stranger one black day
knocked living the hell out of me--
who found forgiveness hard because
my(as it happened)self he was
-but now that fiend and i are such
a total stranger one black day
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Written by
Edward Estlin (E E) Cummings |
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)
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Written by
Edward Estlin (E E) Cummings |
silence
.is
a
looking
bird:the
turn
ing;edge of
life
(inquiry before snow
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Written by
Edward Estlin (E E) Cummings |
i shall imagine life
is not worth dying if
(and when)roses complain
their beauties are in vain
but though mankind persuades
itself that every weed's
a rose roses(you feel
certain)will only smile
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Written by
Edward Estlin (E E) Cummings |
Love is more thicker than forget
more thinner than recall
more seldom than a wave is wet
more frequent than to fail
It's most mad and moonly
and less it shall unbe
than all the sea which only
is deeper than the sea
Love is more always than to win
less never than alive
less bigger than the least begin
less litter than forgive
It's most sane and sunly
and more it cannot die
than all the sky which only
is higher than the sky
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Written by
Edward Estlin (E E) Cummings |
there is a
moon sole
in the blue
night
amorous of waters
tremulous,
blinded with silence the
undulous heaven yearns where
in tense starlessness
anoint with ardor
the yellow lover
stands in the dumb dark
svelte
and
urgent
(again
love i slowly
gather
of thy languorous mouth the
thrilling
flower)
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Written by
Edward Estlin (E E) Cummings |
as is the sea marvelous
from god’s
hands which sent her forth
to sleep upon the world
and the earth withers
the moon crumbles
one by one
stars flutter into dust
but the sea
does not change
and she goes forth out of hands and
she returns into hands
and is with sleep....
love,
the breaking
of your
soul
upon
my lips
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Written by
Edward Estlin (E E) Cummings |
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
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Written by
Edward Estlin (E E) Cummings |
Spring is like a perhaps hand
(which comes carefully
out of Nowhere)arranging
a window,into which people look(while
people stare
arranging and changing placing
carefully there a strange
thing and a known thing here)and
changing everything carefully
spring is like a perhaps
Hand in a window
(carefully to
and from moving New and
Old things,while
people stare carefully
moving a perhaps
fraction of flower here placing
an inch of air there)and
without breaking anything.
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Written by
Edward Estlin (E E) Cummings |
You are tired
(I think)
Of the always puzzle of living and doing;
And so am I.
Come with me then
And we'll leave it far and far away-
(Only you and I understand!)
You have played
(I think)
And broke the toys you were fondest of
And are a little tired now;
Tired of things that break and-
Just tired.
So am I.
But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight
And knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart-
Open to me!
For I will show you the places Nobody knows
And if you like
The perfect places of Sleep.
Ah come with me!
I'll blow you that wonderful bubble the moon
That floats forever and a day;
I'll sing you the jacinth song
Of the probable stars;
I will attempt the unstartled steppes of dream
Until I find the Only Flower
Which shall keep (I think) your little heart
While the moon comes out of the sea.
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