in the beginning

E. E. Cummings is one of my favorite poets so he'll be showing up here quite a bit. I'm starting with this one, though, because I think of it as the first poem that made me love poetry. I discovered it in 5th grade during our poetry project - I don't remember if I found it myself or if the teacher showed it to us, but it really stuck with me. In fact, my only other memory of the entire project was staying up super late typing my anthology the night before it was due. This one is far from my favorite Cummings poem, but I think the reason it made such an impact was that before, my only real exposure to poetry had been Shel Silverstein, and this honestly might be the first time I realized poems don't have to rhyme!

in Just-

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
spring

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

it's
spring
and
the

goat-footed

balloonMan whistles
far
and
wee

Reading over it, I really don't think much of this poem at all. I just remember being intrigued by the fact that the balloonman is "goat-footed" and the repetition in different formats of "far and wee." The one thing I do just love about this one is Cummings' delightful word choice. Some of my absolute favorite adjectives (what, you don't have a favorite adjective?) are "mud-luscious" and "puddle-wonderful."

a lonely poem

Not Waving But Drowning

Nobody heard him, the dead man,

But still he lay moaning:

I was much further out than you thought

And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking

And now he's dead

It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,

They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always

(Still the dead one lay moaning)

I was much too far out all my life

And not waving but drowning.

-- Stevie Smith

I love the imagery of this poem, the idea of the drowning man frantically gesturing for help as his friends happily wave from the shore, oblivious to his struggles. And I love the emotion and the implication of the pair of lines "I was further out than you thought" and "I was much too far out all my life" - many of his pleas went unanswered because they weren't recognized for what they were. When I feel isolated or lonely I always think of the phrase not waving but drowning because it perfectly encompasses that conflict between wanting to force myself out of isolation by being extra-friendly, and feeling too overwhelmed to make the effort unless someone else meets me halfway.

all about perspective

For some reason this poem is extremely difficult to find online... every time I want to re-read it I have to spend about 15 minutes refining my Google search. Here it is, in honor of my mom finishing (and enjoying!) Life of Pi, which I've been telling her is a great book for years. She finally believes me!

Ultimate Problems

In the Aztec design God crowds

into the little pea that is rolling

out of the picture.

All the rest extends bleaker

because God has gone away.

In the White Man design, though,

no pea is there.

God is everywhere,

but hard to see.

The Aztecs frown at this.

How do you know he is everywhere?

And how did he get out of the pea?

-- William Stafford

welcome to Love That Poem

The title of this blog comes from the book Love That Dog by Sharon Creech, which is in turn inspired by the poem "Love That Boy" by Walter Dean Myers. Sharon Creech is one of my favorite children's authors and her novel is a lovely exploration of the power of poetry, written as the class journal of a boy named Jack. The first time I discovered Love That Dog I read the whole thing at the bookstore. It's easy to read in one sitting and it gets me a little teary-eyed every time.

I love to talk about poetry but sometimes I'm going to refrain from putting too much of my own opinions and interpretations into the posts, because I don't want to influence how you read them before you have a chance to give it some thought yourself. My hope is that you'll respond with your own thoughts! :)

My favorite from Love That Dog:

October 10

What do you mean--

Why does so much depend

upon

a blue car?

You didn't say before

that I had to tell why.

The wheelbarrow guy

didn't tell why.

I also just get a kick out of the last stanza of Jack's poem about Frost:

I think Mr. Robert Frost

has a little

too

much

time

on his

hands.