EE Cummings

I really dont have any claims to being a poetry fan. The beauty (and quite often the point) of the stanzas generally manage to evade my grey cells quite effectively, but recently i came across two very nice poems by the same poet EE Cummings in two different movies that I thought I may share. Pretty good stuff. The first appears in Curts Hanson's In her Shoes & the second in Woody Allen's Hannah & Her Sisters .


i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me(i carry it inmy heart)
i am never without it(anywherei go you go,my dear;
and whatever is doneby only me is your doing,my darling)
i fearno fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)
i wantno 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)

ee cummings

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond by E. E. Cummings

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
your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose
or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equalsthe power of your intense fragility:
whose texture compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing
(i do not know what it is about you that closesand opens;
only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands