Yesterday was e.e. cumming’s birthday. For years I have used him as an example of a poet who captured images in staccato, some of them reached into me and described perfectly what, mostly, my young self was thinking. i carry your heart is one I have never lost connection with. This blog post from Jama’s Alphabet Soup is a refreshing exploration that includes research that appeals to me, (the lady who likes to research.) happy birthday, cummings!
“l(a” by e.e.cummings
Grade four students created non-continuous line drawings in order to capture the journey of a whole number of leaves from branches (outside of the picture plane) to rest in the pile of leaves below. After creating directional line stories with marker, the students then used water colour to add the leaves…sticking with the journey that each individual line had taken. I think these turned out wonderfully and displayed them before I left the school. Time required one hour and a half.
I loved words. I love to sing them and speak them and even now, I must admit, I have fallen into the joy of writing them. Anne Rice
Songwriters: VALLANCE, JAMES DOUGLAS / REYNE, JAMES MICHAEL
There’s a light in the valley
There’s a heart all alone
And the door is always open
Go away from your window
Pull the shades way down low
And in a whisper words are spoken
Higher and higher
Taking you there
You’ve got to fly
You’ve got to care
When the feelings gone
And you can’t go on
When things ain’t right
You wanna stay all night
Looking for someone
Who will always be strong
And who will not let you hide
You need your defender
For right or for wrong
You know the path is deep and wide
When the feelings gone
And you can’t go on
When things ain’t right
Don’t give up the fight
thank you God for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees, and for the blue dream of sky and for everything which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes.
e. e. cummings
Quite surprisingly, only moments after listening to this recitation and just before heading to bed, I received both chills and tears, as a result of a letter passed to me via facebook…something written by a former student. And it is simply so exquisite that it got me thinking immediately about how words hold such huge power and equally as much, poetry compells in us, a response of memory. With very few words, we can be transported to a place and time. It’s quite astounding.
I don’t think she’d mind me sharing this letter.
I came across the poem ‘Carry You In My Heart’ by E.E. Cummings this summer Monday evening and had a vague recollection that I had certainly read this beautiful passage once before, but couldn’t quite remember when or where.
After a few moments of contemplation I realized that it was in Grade 9 that you made each of us attempt a delivery of the poem individually in front of the class! I laugh now at this memory thinking of how miserable our attempts would have been, but have never been more appreciative of the ability to read such a touching piece of literature.
I have such fond memories of our classes together; creating the art displays and your attempt to break my habit of writing in all upper case letters…. Thank you for such wonderful memories. I find that as I go through University with professors who could give two hoots about who you are or where you are going, I appreciate so much more the efforts and dedication teachers like yourselves gave to us students at the time. For this I would like to say thank you. Five years later I find myself having a chuckle once in a while about my time spent at Cardinal Newman and deeply appreciating my Grade 7 and 9 teacher who believed in me so much more than I believed in myself.
I am off to Ethiopia, Africa this Friday to build houses for families in the village of Debre Birhan. I smile at the thought of building our ‘garden’ in the front of the drop off zone, and appreciate now that even the smallest effort can make such a difference in this world.
I hope all is well with you and your children! Have a wonderful summer.
“I carry you in my heart.”
And I will carry you in my heart, dear student of mine. Be safe. May your work be a sign for others of God’s love for the world.
I carry your heart with me
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)i am never without it(anywhere i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling) i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true) and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
A final thought,
a small one
before I cut up chicken
and drop it in my
e e cummings poem
comes to mind.
|love is more thicker than forget
more thinner than recall
more seldom than a wave is wet
more frequent than to fail
it is most mad and moonly
love is less always than to win
it is most sane and sunly
I think a person could get carried
away and think,
“I have important things to do.”
What can be more important
than a white edge
drawn around a red-gold leaf?
I feel blessed that I had such opportunity this summer…to travel the Trans Canada Highway again and to have arrived home safely. A poem comes to mind as I bring these thoughts to a close….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
(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birth
day of life and love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any-lifted from the no
of nothing-human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
here’s to opening and upward,
to leaf and to sap and to your
(in my arms flowering so new)
self whose eyes smell
of the sound of rain and
here’s to silent certainly mountains;
and to a disappering poet
of always, snow and to morning;
and to morning’s beautiful friend twilight
(and a first dream called ocean)
and let must or if be damned
with whomever’s afraid
down with ought with because
with every brain which thinks
it thinks, nor dares to feel
(but up with joy; and up
with laughing and drunkenness)
here’s to one undiscoverable
guess of whose mad skill each
world of blood is made
(whose fatal songs are moving in the moon)
I have enjoyed a beautiful half moon tonight….walking from the studio to the house! Good night, dear world! Be kind to those who are lonely or hopeless tonight.