e.e.cummings
This poem was one of my favorites as a child. It made absolutely no sense, until it did. Priding himself on what he called "New Art," Cummings was controversial and offensive, but posthumously became one of the most read poets of the 20th century, second only to Robert Frost. There is a level of understandable nonsense in his use of language, from his lack of capital letters to his use of nouns as verbs and verbs as nouns and especially his semantics and syntax. Yesterday was his birthday, and so he came to mind. His poetry also reminds me of the distortion of truth in our world today, and the need for listening in new and different ways to make sense of it all. Poets are so good at helping us do that.
In a lecture at Harvard, Cummings said: "If poetry is your goal, you've got to forget all about punishments and all about rewards and all about self styled obligations and duties and responsibilities etcetera ad infinitum and remember one thing only: that it's you — nobody else — who determine your destiny and decide your fate. Nobody else can be alive for you; nor can you be alive for anybody else. Toms can be Dicks and Dicks can be Harrys, but none of them can ever be you. There's the artist's responsibility; and the most awful responsibility on earth."
anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn’t he danced his did.
Women and men(both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn’t they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain
children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more
when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone’s any was all to her
someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream
stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)
one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was
all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.
Women and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain
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