friday poetry slam: happy birthday, e.e. cummings!

Currently Reading: Daughters of the Witching Hill by Mary Sharratt

Happy Friday! In honor of e.e. cummings' birthday today, I am posting 

one of my favorite poems of his. The beautiful thing about cummings' 

poetry is that it can mean different things to different people. His poetry 

is full of images and metaphors and words that flow like water over rocks. 

This is what I love about him. 

P.S. Another wonderful celebration today that gives me shivers of 

happiness: 180 years ago today, my 5th great-grandparents, Rebecca 

Whittome and Robert Driver were married at St. Margaret's Church

in Hilgay, Norfolk, England. Happy Anniversary to my ancestors! 

In fact, upon rereading this poem, I realize that it is quite appropriate 

for this occasion as well. 

St. Margaret's Church, Hilgay, Norfolk, England

if there are any heavens my mother will(all by herself)have
one.  It will not be a pansy heaven nor
a fragile heaven of lilies-of-the-valley but
it will be a heaven of blackred roses

my father will be(deep like a rose
tall like a rose)

standing near my

(swaying over her
silent)
with eyes which are really petals and see

nothing with the face of a poet really which
is a flower and not a face with
hands
which whisper
This is my beloved my

            (suddenly in sunlight

he will bow,

& the whole garden will bow)