e.e.cummings poem 95

I love e.e. cummings. do you have any more obscurer poems that you like? (by anyone)

95

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)

- from his book 100 Selected Poems
https://artandtheology.org/2016/04/27/i-thank-you-god-for-most-this-amazing-by-e-e-cummings/

This page is a permanent link to the reply below and its nested replies. See all post replies »

Abstraction · 61-69, M

This is stunning. Brings me to tears.

[b]Burial Ceremony [/b][i]Hungary 1956-62[/i]

Bury them deep
under the muffling weight
of six years’ trivia

Heap over them
the shining excrement of those
who feed on forgetting.

Under the bright
inconsequence of headlines
shut them up good.

Under the recurring
tragedy of the football star’s
slipped cartilage,

Under the ticker-taped
processionals of beauty-queens, all
gloriously living,

Under the fretful barrage
of politicians breaking public wind
to ease the embarrassment

Of breathing when so many
better men lie
elsewhere breathless

Under the brute siesta
of nation-states where freedom
remains a quaint local custom...

[b]...and beat drum, beat
For these Hungarian souls
Whom anger simplified
Until all answers seemed
The same, a bloody sum,
And every schoolboy in the torn-up streets
Wept to see fulfilled
The aching paradox
That life belongs to those alone
Who loving it, stand ready
To pay it the smoke-blackened
Compliment of their death...

Beat, drum, beat.
[/b]
(Vale Bruce Dawe, Poet, 15 February 1930 – 1 April 2020)