Tag Archives: e e cummings


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

— E.E. Cummings (Selected Poems)

Rain seems common these days. This year, spring and early summer has been rain-filled, more so than I remember it being for a while. I don’t think I’ve ever not had to water my flowers for so long in all my years of gardening. While I’m not a great fan of the scorching summer days that can normally be found around here, there are moments when I’d like to see some sun. Watching the news, my heart breaks for all the losses suffered by strange weather lately, tornadoes and floods included.

But it also brought to mind the fun-filled days of childhood, playing out in the rain, stomping in puddles, and getting absolutely, completely, downright dirty in the mud. The puddle-wonderful, mud-luscious moments.

If you’ve browsed this site before, you might recall that E. E. Cummings is one of my favorite poets. I love his unexpected playfulness, his way of making you see words and punctuation in ways different from how you normally see them. Whenever I read his poetry, I always go back to my work wanting to make it tighter, the word choices better, the prose more lyrical. The Poetry Foundation has a marvelous biographical and critical article if you are interested in learning more about his life and his contributions to poetry.

In the meantime, on this rainy day, I’ll share a couple of my favorites with you here.

Chansons Innocentes: I
by E. E. Cummings

in Just-
spring when the world is mud-
luscious the little
lame balloonman

whistles far and wee

and eddieandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it’s

when the world is puddle-wonderful

the queer
old balloonman whistles
far and wee
and bettyandisbel come dancing

from hop-scotch and jump-rope and


balloonMan whistles

anyone lived in a pretty how town
by E. E. Cummings

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

If you’re interested in hearing Cummings read this poem, the audio is available at The Poetry Archive. For more excellent lines and quotes from Cummings, check out the entries on Goodreads.

If you have a favorite poem or poet, please share it with us! I’m always looking for new things to pass the time on these mud-luscious days.

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Gladly Beyond

Looking down the highwayThis week is finally wrapping up.  A busy one, for sure.

Even the weather was crazy!  On Tuesday, it snowed a bit.  On Friday, it was rainy, but mild.  Come Sunday, we will be at 85 degrees.  Sigh.  I think that means Spring must have been sometime Thursday evening.

Don’t know about you, but this is one week that I am quite happy to move gladly beyond.  So in honor of that, I’ll share one of my favorite poems to send us all into a welcome weekend break.

Enjoy your weekend!

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
by E. E. 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

[Note: This post is #7 of 26 of the April A-to-Z Challenge. Please see the button at the lower left of the page for more information.]


Filed under Life