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dirtycorner 03-06-2006 02:23 PM

explain.
 
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 hoe and then)they
said their nevers and they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt for 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
wish 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

Spexxvet 03-06-2006 02:31 PM

Opium

Cyclefrance 03-06-2006 02:35 PM

Life's a cycle.

Individually we have a personal view and personal experiences that seem just for us, but collectively it's the same for everyone (or maybe that should be for many).

Interesting poem, and an example of an amazing mind that can present an observation this way. It's like an individual view of life, but at the same time the view is that of a way of life shared by many, and that is repeated generation after generation. You have no clue as to when it might have been written, and it doen't matter because it is a timeless view.

Still, my interpretation may not be a fair one so worth waiting for others who could read this differently.

marichiko 03-06-2006 02:57 PM

Write your own english paper. I'll do it for cash (in advance). :eyebrow:

dirtycorner 03-06-2006 03:10 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by marichiko
Write your own english paper. I'll do it for cash (in advance). :eyebrow:

it's not for english. it's not for any class. i was looking at old posts and this came up somewhere. it was interesting.

i just wanted to know what other people thought of it.

Elspode 03-06-2006 03:20 PM

ee cummings was a brilliant poet. IMHO.

xoxoxoBruce 03-06-2006 08:52 PM

Obfuscation. :eyebrow:

slang 03-06-2006 09:08 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by dirtycorner
.......i just wanted to know what other people thought of it.

There are no photos included with your post so when I realized that it is a poem and that this is not the creativity thread, I just stopped reading it.

It's surely great and insightful but I try to avoid reading more than a few lines here.

Have you taken the time to explore the Cellar? Hopefully you will. It's an interesting place.

Welcome aboard. Have a good time. Eat your veggies.

monster 03-06-2006 10:13 PM

Explain?

Why should we?

Of course if you posted your own opinion/explanation first it might be a whole different story. Until that time the best I'll offer is........ acorns.

dirtycorner 03-07-2006 12:48 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by monster
Explain?

Why should we?

Of course if you posted your own opinion/explanation first it might be a whole different story. Until that time the best I'll offer is........ acorns.

i think it's a love story...

mrnoodle 03-07-2006 03:41 PM

It's a picture of a community and the persistence of time, and how they coexist without one altering the other.

marichiko 03-07-2006 04:04 PM

OK, this better not find its way under some dread red pencil:

A man lived in a town that was about the mechanics of life, rather than the lyrics of it. Most people didn’t care for this man because he didn’t fit in with the rest of them. Some of the children were able to sense this man’s uniqueness, but they grew up and became like the rest of the towns people.

Noone loved the man – maybe no one really did or maybe it took the town nobody to love him. At any rate, he ultimately met the same fate of everyone else in this town all about how – ashes to ashes and dust to dust.

That’s what happens when you live your life based on “how” rather than “why.”

Beestie 03-07-2006 05:31 PM

I have never been able to explain poetry. I can barely read it.

xoxoxoBruce 03-07-2006 06:21 PM

Nobody can explain poetry, Beestie. Being far from straight forward communication, everyone that reads it will conjure up different images, have their mind strike off on different tangents and end up with an experience that's unique to them. :cool:

monster 03-07-2006 10:21 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by dirtycorner
i think it's a love story...

explain? ;)

I never did a lit class beyond O-level (age 16), I have little interest in it, but I feel this has christian overtones. The him is Christ. Not sure why, though.


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