Friday, September 14, 2007

somewhere i have never traveled

I stumbled upon one of my favorite E.E. Cumming’s poem. He knew how to write about love without ever using the word.

Somewhere I have never traveled
somewhere i have never traveled, 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

I wrote the following poem after reading several of E.E. Cummings poems and being inspired by his style.

Blackness swallowed me that night
Before lay miles of loneliness
Silence so palpable, wondrous, still
Floating on waves of God’s breath
was thy here near inside there nowhere or will I never know?
i am my savior

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