Sunday, September 18, 2011

the older I get, the more I love poetry...


Watching the Hour on BBC America, with all the family, seeing 1956 come to life again, and one of the characters quotes e e cummings. What a genius that man was... there is something about his love poetry especially, which is just so tender and beautiful


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



do so love the 'net - where else would I find such a perfect image! and thanks to Pilar Pedrosa Pilar for putting it on her body!
and to Will Cook for the beautiful flower photo

No comments: