all worlds have halfsight

(Black Door with Red by Georgia O’Keefe, 1887-1988,
American artist)

Almost one-quarter of the approximately 770 poems published by e. e. cummings (1894-1962) are sonnets. This may surprise some readers, that this most non-traditional of poets would favor such a traditional poetic form.

As he does in all his works, however, in his sonnets e. e. cummings also transforms the formal structure, arranging the text into eccentric typography or appearance of the words, dividing the stanzas into variable patterns, and making up his own rules for the rhyme and rhythm of the lines.

But the poet does follow the rule that the sonnet takes on one idea, with a proposition and then a response.

In the sonnet below, he makes the case that only through love can we see “the beauty of the truth.”

from 73 POEMS

all worlds have halfsight,seeing either with

life’s eye(which is if things seem spirits)or
(if spirits in the guise of things appear)
death’s:any world must always half perceive.

Only whose vision can create the whole

(being forever born a foolishwise
proudhumble citizen of ecstasies
more steep than climb can time with all his years)

he’s free into the beauty of the truth;

and strolls the axis of the universe
— love. Each believing world denies, whereas
your lover(looking through both life and death)
timelessly celebrates the merciful

wonder no world deny may or believe

i carry your heart

(The Proposal, English wood engraving, Regency period,
1815)

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)

~ e. e. cummings (1894-1962), American poet

anyone lived in a pretty how town

(Clearing, woodblock print by Frances Gearhart,
1869-1958, American artist)

“Once upon a time” is how many tales of romance begin.

But not this love story. It begins with lines of verse that seem strange, even nonsensical.

This is the story of a typical town and a certain couple, a man and a woman, anyone and noone. As the days and seasons follow their cycles, the two lead quiet lives unnoticed by all except for some of the town’s children. They fall in love, marry, and share their joy and grief and dreams and laughter. And then, after a full and happy life, they die, he before she, and are buried side by side.

anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn’t he danced his did.

Women and men(both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn’t they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more

when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone’s any was all to her

someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
with by spirit and if by yes.

Women and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain

~ e. e. cummings (1894-1962), American poet, painter, and essayist

little tree

(It’s Christmas Again by Carl Larsson, 1853-1919,
Swedish painter and interior designer)

The Yuletide tradition of bringing a fir tree inside the house and trimming it with candles or lights, shiny baubles, and other Christmas decorations dates back at least to around the sixteenth century in Protestant Northern Europe, including Germany, Estonia, and Latvia.

little tree
little silent Christmas tree
you are so little
you are more like a flower

who found you in the green forest
and were you very sorry to come away?
see i will comfort you
because you smell so sweetly

i will kiss your cool bark
and hug you safe and tight
just as your mother would,
only don’t be afraid

look the spangles
that sleep all the year in a dark box
dreaming of being taken out and allowed to shine,
the balls the chains red and gold the fluffy threads,

put up your little arms
and i’ll give them all to you to hold
every finger shall have its ring
and there won’t be a single place dark or unhappy

then when you're quite dressed
you’ll stand in the window for everyone to see
and how they’ll stare!
oh but you’ll be very proud

and my little sister and i will take hands
and looking up at our beautiful tree
we’ll dance and sing
“Noel Noel”

~ e. e. cummings (1894-1962), American poet, painter, and essayist

love is more thicker than forget

(Study for Woman in Blue by Fernand Léger,
1881–1955, French painter and sculptor)

Love can overwhelm us.

How can we make sense of it all?

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
and less it shall unbe
than all the sea which only
is deeper than the sea

love is less always than to win
less never than alive
less bigger than the least begin
less littler than forgive

it is most sane and sunly
and more it cannot die
than all the sky which only
is higher than the sky

~ e. e. cummings (1894-1962), American poet, painter and essayist

The Colors of Words

Most wordplay in poetry is aural. The poet plays with the sounds of words, their rhymes and rhythms and meters. Those poems are best read out loud.

But some wordplay is visual. The poet plays with the look of words, their spelling or their place on the page. These poems are best read in silence.

The most notable of the visual poets is e. e. cummings. The topography, the design on the page, helps carry the meaning of many of his poems. Sometimes he pushes words together, with no space between them, or breaks up a word. Sometimes he ignores the necessary capitalization. At other times he uses punctuation marks almost as words.

maybe god

is a child
’s hand)very carefully
bring
-ing
to you and to
me(and quite with
out crushing)the

papery weightless diminutive

world
with a hole in
it out
of which demons with wings would be streaming if
something had(maybe they couldn’t
agree)not happened(and floating-
ly int

o

~ e. e. cummings (1894-1962), American poet, painter and essayist