Chronicles of the Daily Grind

Labels: inspirational, poetry, talking within

Posted by brodiz at 6:15 PM | Permalink | Comments

edward estlin cumming's poetry fascinates me. to analyze his poem as they say is sacrilege; the depth of meaning, the profound use of imagery, the uniquely mysterious figurative language. yet somehow, somewhere along his words, you'll be captured by their meaning. his poems, especially this one, reveals feelings unconcealed.

i first encountered this poem when i was about six or seven years old. my dad used to play his favorite song "the first time i loved forever." it was there when i first heard the cumming poem. three stanzas of ee cumming's poem are spliced and spread throughout the soung; made the song, however, more appealing.

although this literary piece, as shared by many, is understood as a love poem, it however suggests a more transcendent slant for me. love, after all, is a transcendent reality.

somewhere i have never travelled (by ee cummings)

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

Labels: poetry

Posted by brodiz at 5:08 PM | Permalink | Comments

and they slip past my mouth;
i tried gathering the letter crumbs
and rearrange,
and meditate.
i don't see the sense of taking these all,
yet i feel obliged,
by me?
by a monster in me,
a liitle monster that creeps.
and as i take these words
for my mind to digest,
it stops.
and my mind goes blank...
then, boom! this mind
mechanically operates,
flashing colors i haven't seen,
passing places i haven't been,
popping images i haven't met,
not before, perhaps, not yet.
then, the letters begin to float
before the vastness of the mind's eye.
like a water they drop,
like a hammer they pound.
and my head starts to ache,
as i cry out a silent pain.
yet, what suffers the most,
not my head,
not my mind,
but this quiet heart,
who was never heard complaining...
but now.

Labels: introspection, personal, poetry, random thoughts

Posted by brodiz at 8:03 AM | Permalink | Comments