Introducing: Poetry Mondays

I think most people can come to the general consensus that Mondays blow. To liven our spirits, our minds, and our souls, I’ve decided to start a weekly tradition of Poetry Monday. That’s right, whatever poem catches my eye will be posted here at the depressing beginning of each soul-crushing work week. Inspired by my revisit of Woody Allen’s Hannah And Her Sisters, I’m choosing an E.E. Cummings classic for the inaugural post. Enjoy!

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 nearyour slightest look easily will unclose me
though I have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously) her first roseor 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 equals
the 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 closes
and 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

 -E. E. Cummings
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