Do not go Gentle into that Good Night…

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Dylan Thomas

  

 

 

 

e.e. cummings

Contemporary poet e.e cummings is the only poet I am aware of that was able to deftly manipulate the English language with such good effect. With reckless abandon he changed the physical landscape of words on the page and re-arranged grammatical structure to produce a stunning effect, often highlighting and emphasizing certain words and sentences and re-arranging others. This ultimately gives birth to his message but only after a period of contemplation.

I love his creative manipulation of the language. And in fact I don’t think anyone has ever been able to do it better. When he was alive his work was under rated, but as with all great poets, only fully appreciated after his death.

One of my favourite poems ever written by Cumming’s is called “i carry your heart with me”.  It was quoted by the character that Carmen Diaz plays in the movie, “In Her Shoes”, a very witty movie about two sisters who are polar opposites. It is recited in a poignant scene, when one of the sisters is getting married, and always brings a tear to my eyes. His poignant words about love are timeless and never lose their meaning.

This poem provides a good example of how Cummings manipulates the language with small letters, parenthesis and sentence structure for fascinating effect. This poem seems to resonate with many, one of Cumming’s most popular and one that I hold close to my heart.

 The poem,” 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 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 the 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)

If you carry someone within your heart, no matter where you are, they are always with you.

Ausencia

Amor mio,

nos hemos encontrado

sedientos y nos hemos

bebido toda el agua y la sangre.

nos encontramos

con hambre

y nos mordimos

como el fuego muerde,

dejandonos heridas.

Pero esperame,

guardame tu dulzura.

Yo e dare tambien

una rose.

 

My love,

we have found each other

thirsty and we have

drunk  up all the water and the blood,

we have found each other

hungry

and we bit each other

as fire bites,

leaving wounds in us.

But wait for me,

keep for me your sweetness.

I will give you too

a rose.

Pablo Neruda

  

somewhere i have never travelled

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond

any experience, your eyes have their silence;

in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,

or which i cannot touch because they are too near

e.e. cummings (1894-1962)

In you the earth…

 

 

 

A perfect evening for Pablo Neruda. A most soulful and romantic poet.

Little,

rose,

roselet,

at times,

tiny and naked,

it seems

as though you would fit

in one of my hands,

as though I’ll clasp you like this

and carry you to my mouth,

but

suddenly

my feet touch your feet and my mouth your lips:

you have grown,

your shoulders rise like two hills,

your breasts wander over my breast,

my arm scarcely manages to encircle the thin

new-moon line of your waist:

in love you have loosened yourself like sea water:

I can scarcely measure the sky’s most spacious eyes

and I lean down to your mouth to kiss the earth.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)

Thy fate is the common fate

of all; into each life some rain

must fall.

 

Alone

From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were — I have not seen
As others saw — I could not bring
My passions from a common spring —
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow — I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone —
And all I lov’d — I lov’d alone —
Then — in my childhood — in the dawn
Of a most stormy life — was drawn
From ev’ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still —
From the torrent, or the fountain —
From the red cliff of the mountain —
From the sun that ’round me roll’d
In its autumn tint of gold —
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass’d me flying by —
From the thunder, and the storm —
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view —

Edgar Allan Poe

 

A Dream

 

In visions of the dark night
I have dreamed of joy departed-
But a waking dream of life and light
Hath left me broken-hearted.

Ah! what is not a dream by day
To him whose eyes are cast
On things around him with a ray
Turned back upon the past?

That holy dream- that holy dream,
While all the world were chiding,
Hath cheered me as a lovely beam
A lonely spirit guiding.

What though that light, thro’ storm and night,
So trembled from afar-
What could there be more purely bright
In Truth’s day-star?

Edgar Allan Poe

  

William Wordsworth

We poets in our youth begin in gladness;

But thereof comes in the end despondency and madness.

 

William Wordsworth

 

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

” No man was ever yet a great poet,
without being at the same time a profound philosopher.
For poetry is the blossom and the fragrance of all human knowledge,
human thoughts, human passions, emotions, language. “

Samuel Taylor Coleridge