It’s been an evening soaking in poetry and this is the masterpiece that keeps calling me back to read and re-read:
love is a place
love is a place
& through this place of
love move
(with brightness of peace)
all places
yes is a world
& in this world of
yes live
(skilfully curled)
all worlds
(e.e.cummings)
The place that says both love and yes to me is my precious Tramore Bay.
What thoughts or places does the poem evoke in you?
love is a place
love is a place
& through this place of
love move
(with brightness of peace)
all places
yes is a world
& in this world of
yes live
(skilfully curled)
all worlds.
It’s pretty noticeable that social media is full of positivity in a world that isn’t all sweetness and light.
Sometimes, I find that reading reams of positive stuff makes me feel like I’ve overdosed on chocolate.
However, I know that when I feel down, I tend to use what I call ‘positive’ writing as a way to haul myself up. This is at the public level, at least. My private journals are probably a lot closer to the real me.
But overall, I find that the very act of writing a positive post tends to lift my mood.
Today is one of those down days, for a variety of reasons, and here’s where I went delving to find much-needed colour and bounce!
… laugh, leaning back in my arms for life’s not a paragraph And death i think is no parenthesis. (e.e.cummings)
What’s your approach? Do you tell it as it is if you’re down or do you try to find something, a n y t h i n g positive to write about to both lift yourself (and not feel that you’re dumping your miseries on other people)?
Poetry has long been one of my passions but it was only when I began reading it to my father during the last months of his life that I fully realised the extent to which some poems are so beautifully and carefully crafted that they beg to be seen, and not just heard, for the masterpieces that they are.
Alfred Lord Tennyson’s, The Lady of Shallot, was one of Dad’s favourites and the more I read it , the more I came to love the way in which Tennyson used length of line to add extra dimensions to his work. This stanza is a dream that always has me seeing fondly-held streams and rivers at high water:
In the stormy east-wind straining,
The pale yellow woods were waning,
The broad stream in his banks complaining,
Heavily the low sky raining
Over tower’d Camelot;
Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat,
And round about the prow she wrote
The Lady of Shalott.
And what of E.E. Cummings and the way he uses spacing and parentheses to lend meaning and emphasis? The contrast between the lone i fear and the final line with words and characters cuddling as close, close can be:
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
E.E. Cummings
i carry your heart with me(i carry it inmy heart)i am never without it(anywherei go you go,my dear;and whatever is doneby only me is your doing,my darling)i fearno fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i wantno world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meantand whatever a sun will always sing is youhere is the deepest secret nobody knows(here is the root of the root and the bud of the budand the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which growshigher than soul can hope or mind can hide)and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars aparti carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
I only realised today that Van and Bob came into my life on the same day, October 5th, 2011.
No, I’m not talking about Van Morrison and Bob Dylan. Rather, I’m referring to two American men who connected with me through the poetry thread that I started on Linkedin back in late September, 2011, and who are pillars of ongoing fun, support, sensitivity and sheer friendship.
This pair have been instrumental in introducing me to all sorts of creative works and in deepening my love for others. Van has a huge interest in Mark Twain, who was such a part of my growing up, and he has also sprung the most delicious surprises on the poetry thread, like bringing me to the poetry, as well as the songs, of Leonard Cohen.
Knowing of my love for bridges, Bob sent me this photograph for The Festival of Colour, Creatvity and Connection:
It doesn’t surprise me in the least that it’s a bit surreal as Bob loves to stretch minds and emotions. I reckon this is the teacher coming out in him as well as the multi-layered man that he is.
So with Thanksgiving looming, I want to send special thanks to Van and Bob for lending such colour to my life and for knowing how to make me smile. This is for you!
The world is mud-luscious and puddle-wonderful.
e e cummings
It seems only right that it is raining here in Tramore as today marks the 14th year since the tragic loss of the crew of the Search and Rescue Helicopter in dense fog in the sand dunes in 1999
I would like to dedicate this famous poem, with and about love, to the families of:
Sgt. Patrick Mooney, Stamullen, Co. Meath ~ aged 34 years
Capt. Dave O’ Flaherty, Tullamore, Co. Offaly ~ aged 30 years
Capt. Michael Baker, Enniscorthy, Co. Wexford ~ aged 28 years
Cpl. Niall Byrne, Killiney, Co. Dublin ~ aged 25 years
i carry your heart with me
by
E. E. Cummings
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 youhere 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 aparti carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
