the sweet small clumsy feet of April [13, Poem-a-Day]

if i have made,my lady,intricate
imperfect various things chiefly which wrong
your eyes(frailer than most deep dreams are frail)
songs less firm than your body’s whitest song
upon my mind—if i have failed to snare
the glance too shy—if through my singing slips
the very skilful strangeness of your smile
the keen primeval silence of your hair

—let the world say, “his most wise music stole
nothing from death”—
you only will create
(who are so perfectly alive)my shame:
lady through whose profound and fragile lips
the sweet small clumsy feet of April came

into the ragged meadow of my soul

E.E. Cummings, Is 5 (1926)


Today’s poem is for Cathy. Happy anniversary, my love.
— Ellen

“if i have made,my lady,intricate” by E.E. Cummings was also featured for Poem-a-Day April 12, 2007 and Poem-a-Day April 13, 2011.
Poems by E.E. Cummings were also featured for Poem-a-Day April 13, 2008 and Poem-a-Day April 20, 2010.

Poem-a-day, April 13: lady i swear by all flowers

since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;

wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world

my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers.     Don’t cry
—the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids’ flutter which says

we are for each other:then
laugh,leaning back in my arms
for life’s not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis

***

Hi Friends,

Today’s E.E. Cummings poem (note the capital E.E.) is for Cathy’s eyelids, and for seven years wonder-full of 13ths.

Love,
Ellen

Poems by E.E. Cummings were also featured for Poem-a-Day April 12, 2007; Poem-a-Day April 13, 2009; Poem-a-Day April 20, 2010; and Poem-a-Day April 13, 2011.

Poem-a-Day, April 13: boca innumerable

El viento en la isla

El viento es un caballo:
óyelo cómo corre
por el mar, por el cielo.

Quiere llevarme: escucha
cómo recorre el mundo
para llevarme lejos.

Escóndeme en tus brazos
por esta noche sola,
mientras la lluvia rompe
contra el mar y la tierra
su boca innumerable.

Escucha cómo el viento
me llama galopando
para llevarme lejos.

Con tu frente en mi frente,
con tu boca en mi boca,
atados nuestros cuerpos
al amor que nos quema,
deja que el viento pase
sin que pueda llevarme.

Deja que el viento corra
Coronado de espurra,
que me llame y me busque
galopando en la sombra,
mientras yo, sumergido
baja tus grandes ojos,
por esta noche sola
descansarmé, amor mío.

*

The Wind in the Island

The wind is a stallion:
hear how he runs
over the ocean, the sky.

He wants to take me: listen
how he roves the world
to take me far away.

Conceal me in your arms
for this night only,
while the rain breaks
against the ocean and the rocks
its innumerable mouth.

Listen how the wind
calls me, galloping
to take me far away.

With your forehead to my forehead,
your mouth to my mouth,
our bodies tied
to love that burns,
let the wind pass over
unable to take me.

Let the wind run
crowned by seaspray,
call and search for me,
galloping in shadow,
while I, submerged
beneath your huge eyes
for this night only,
will rest, my love.


*

Hello Friends —

Today’s poem is by Pablo Neruda, from Los Versos del Capitan (1952). Today is Cathy & I’s sixth anniversary: Muchas gracias para seis años de noches submergido baja tus grandes ojos, amor mío.

April is National Poetry Month, and I am celebrating by emailing out my own eclectic selection of one poem per day for the duration of the month. If you wish to be unsubscribed from this Poem-a-Day email list at any time, please reply to this email with a friendly unsubscribe request (preferably in heroic couplet form). You may also request to add a consenting friend to the list, or even nominate a poem.

To learn more about National Poetry Month, or to subscribe to a more official-like Poem-a-Day list, visit www.poets.org.

Enjoy.
Ellen

Poem-a-Day, April 12: mud-luscious & puddle-wonderful

if i have made,my lady,intricate
imperfect various things chiefly which wrong
your eyes(frailer than most deep dreams are frail)
songs less firm than your body’s whitest song
upon my mind — if i have failed to snare
the glance too shy — if through my singing slips
the very skilful strangeness of your smile
the keen primeval silence of your hair

— let the world say, “his most wise music stole
nothing from death” —
you only will create
(who are so perfectly alive)my shame:
lady through whose profound and fragile lips
the small clumsy feet of April came

into the ragged meadow of my soul

*

Hello Friends —

Of all the famous occurrences of “April” in poetry (see also Chaucer, Eliot), this untitled E.E. Cummings poem is my favorite. Oh, and the jabberwockean words in subject line of this email come from another of cumming’s great seasonal works, “in Just- / spring.”

April is National Poetry Month, and I am celebrating by emailing out my own eclectic selection of one poem per day for the duration of the month. If you wish to be unsubscribed from this Poem-a-Day email list at any time, please reply to this email with a friendly unsubscribe request (preferably in heroic couplet form). You may also request to add a consenting friend to the list, or even nominate a poem.

To learn more about National Poetry Month, or to subscribe to a more official-like Poem-a-Day list, visit www.poets.org.

Enjoy.
Ellen

“if i have made,my lady,intricate” by E.E. Cummings was featured again for Poem-a-Day April 13, 2009 and Poem-a-Day April 13, 2011.
Poems by E.E. Cummings were also featured for Poem-a-Day April 13, 2008 and Poem-a-Day April 20, 2010.