E.E. Cummings Poetry

From "(in a middle of a room)"

in a middle of a room
stands a suicide
sniffing a Paper rose
smiling to a self

"somewhere it is Spring and sometimes
people are in real:imagine
somewhere real flowers,but
I can't imagine real flowers for if I

could,they would somehow
not Be real"
(so he smiles
smiling)"but I will not

everywhere be real to
you in a moment"
The is blond
with small hands

....


by e.e. cummings {perhaps the poet in a darker mood} quasimodo1

From "your little voice..."


your little voice
Over the wires came leaping
and i felt suddenly
dizzy
With the jostling and shouting of merry flowers
wee skipping high-heeled flames
courtesied before my eyes
or twinkling over to my side
Looked up
with impertinently exquisite faces
floating hands were laid upon me
I was whirled and tossed into delicious dancing
up
Up
with the pale important
stars and the Humorous

....

ee cummings

in spite of everything ...by e.e.cummings
in spite of everything
which breathes and moves,since Doom
(with white longest hands
neatening each crease)
will smooth entirely our minds ( ...first stanza )

http://www2.hn.psu.edu/faculty/jmani...rmous-Room.pdf this link contains the electronic text of e.e.cummings' "The Enormous Room". It is about his misplacement and imprisonment which required friends from both sides of the Atlantic to secure his release and convalescence. e.e.cummings thought of this time later as informative and helpful as grist for his subsequent poetry. The work stands alone and differentiated. quasimodo1

Only a butterfly's glide from my home began a mythical domain of semiwilderness; separating cerebral Cambridge and orchidaceous Somerville. Deep in this magical realm of Between stood a palace containing Harvard University's far-famed Charles Eliot Norton. & lowly folk, who were neither professors nor professors' children, had nick-named the district Norton's Woods. Here, as a very little child, I first encountered that mystery who is Nature here my enormous smallness entered Her illimitable being; and here someone actually infinite or impossibly alive--someone who might almost (but not quite) have been myself—-wonderingly wandered the mortally immortal complexities of Her beyond imagining imagination (32)
e.e.cummings
http://www.gvsu.edu/english/cummings/issue3/Parekh3.htm

when life is quite through with
and leaves say alas,
much is to do
for the swallow,that closes
a flight in the blue;

when love's had his tears out,
perhaps shall pass
a million years
(while a bee dozes
on the poppies, the dears;

when all's done and said,and
under the grass
lies her head
by oaks and roses
deliberated.)

From "Tulips and Chimneys", 1923
List all poems from "Tulips and Chimneys" .............e.e.cummings

mr. smith
is reading
his letter
by the fire-
light



tea-time



smiles friend smith





by e.e.cummings

Turn down your sound when you go here because the person playing the piano has Peter Nero disease; otherwise the photo and poem are e.e.positive in the extreme....http://www.panhala.net/Archive/This_Amazing_Day.html reactions encouraged, quasimodo1

"'kitty'. sixteen,5'1",white,prostitute"
by E. E. Cummings


"kitty". sixteen,5'1",white,prostitute.


ducking always the touch of must and shall,
whose slippery body is Death's littlest pal,


skilled in quick softness. Unspontaneous. cute.


the signal perfume of whose unrepute
focusses in the sweet slow animal
bottomless eyes importantly banal,

(first half of this poem, title line imitates headline)

I learned to love e. e. cummings last year during my AP literature class. Before that, I really didn't love poetry.....

hate blows a bubble of despair

hate blows a bubble of despair into
hugeness world system universe and bang
-fear buries a tomorrow under woe
and up comes yesterday most green and young

pleasure and pain are merely surfaces
(one itself showing,itself hiding one)
life's only and true value neither is
love makes the little thickness of the coin

excerpt of this poem by e.e.cummings

I've recently found this poem. I think it's really interesting and funny but I don't understand some words. They seem to be written as they are pronounced.

from ygUDuh

ydoan
yunnuhstan

ydoan o
yunnuhstand dem
yguduh ged

yunnuhstan dem doidee
yguduh ged riduh
ydoan o nudn

LISN bud LISN

....

e.e.cummings

Thanks for the addition to thread, Mrs. Dalloway. You think the poem by e.e. that you posted is perhaps a disturbing memory or immitation of inebriated speech patern? He does a similar thing in the "cumrades" poem.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by quasimodo1

Thanks for the addition to thread, Mrs. Dalloway. You think the poem by e.e. that you posted is perhaps a disturbing memory or immitation of inebriated speech patern? He does a similar thing in the "cumrades" poem.

---

Maybe it's an imitation. What do you think?

I think it may be an imitation to satirize some specific war (maybe Vietnam's war? because it says "yellow bastards"). I'm not really sure of the poem's meaning.

Most if not all of e.e.cummings is pre-Vietnam. The more you vocalize the piece, the more it seems to me a specific memory of boozespeak. There's a prejudice here. Not one of his happier works. Does it say yellow... in the part you didn't post? quasimodo1