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Happy
Poem in Your Pocket Day! But first, a little offering from me to you, to mark one year of blogging in this space: a 5x7" embroidery piece.
My first thought was to sneaky-like enter everyone who's commented this month and then just announce who won, but then I thought, Probably not everybody would want this, especially considering the blue shape looks more like a dagger or an icicle because I did it first, before I got better at keeping my diagonals going in the right direction (harder than you'd think, against that fabric). So instead, if you would like a piece of original embroidery, by me, just leave a comment on this post and let me know. It's wrapped around a piece of bookbinding board; here's a back view.
I think you could probably slip it into a frame without glass, or just prop it up on a shelf--if the blue icicle doesn't bother you, that is. (I should just be quiet and say I meant to do it that way, maybe?) Since it's Poem in Your Pocket day, if you'd like to mention a favorite poem in your comment, or link to a post with a poem, or tell me what you're doing to celebrate, I'd love to hear it. But you don't have to. You can just leave a regular old "hope you pick me" comment. I'll use random.org to pick someone, you need to make sure there's a way to contact you (ie, leave your email address in your comment if it's not going to show up in the profile), and I will mail to anywhere in the whole wide world. Leave your comment by 8 pm EST on Thursday, May 3, which is a week from today. I think I covered everything?
Today, I'll be passing out copies of my favorite e.e. cummings poem as I go about my day. (I love the beach, you know.)
maggie and milly and molly and may
by
e.e. cummings
maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach(to play one day)
and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and
milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;
and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and
may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.
For whatever we lose(like a you or a me)
it's always ourselves we find in the sea
Copyright © 1956, 1984, 1991 by the Trustees for the E. E. Cummings Trust from The Complete Poems: 1904-1962 by E. E. Cummings, Edited by George J. Firmage.
...linking up with the folks at
our creative spaces...
9 comments:
I love that poem! My poem for the day is also by cummings
If Ups the Word. I had to memorize parts of it in high school. I wonder if they still make kids memorize poems?
THIS e.e. cummings poem was in my 10th grade English textbook and I always liked it.
http://www.poetry-archive.com/c/in_just.html
I think of it every Spring. Only in 10th grade, because of the way the poem is structured, I thought the little lame balloon man's name was luscious. (which in my head I was saying as Lucius, which made slightly more sense). I think I was 30 when I went back and reread it and discovered my error. and for heaven's sake it looks neither like a dagger nor an icicle. it rocks, and I'd be delighted to win it. -Karen
Donna Lee, not often enough; Karen's right, it's not a dagger or an icicle, it's just cool. Sylvie and Lilia did poems, I'm just too underwater to do them for everyone this year. Here's Sylvie's:
Rescue
Bony cat,
Scrabbling along
In the sleet,
You need a child
To warm you.
I’ll take you, cat,
Where it’s dry,
And there’s a can of milk.
I’ll feed you, Bony.
We’ll be friends.
No more hiding
Under cars,
No more crying.
We’ll be friends,
Bony cat,
Scrabbling along
In the sleet.
Virginia Schonborg
She chose it herself. I began reading from a book of poetry and she stopped me when she heard the right one. She's a pretty neat person, even if she does make me tired.
"My Heart Leaps Up" by Wordsworth is my Pocket Poem for the day: http://poetrypatio.wordpress.com/
I enjoyed your e.e. cummings poem--it was fun to read aloud. Thanks for sharing!
My poem today has been The Second Coming by Yeats - not sure why...
W.B Yeats
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in the sands of the desert.
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
I think the embroidery is lovely!
I love that poem, don't think I've heard it since childhood and it reminded me of my mum reading to me when I was little.
you must know I'd LOVE a piece by you. Very much.
Excellent poem! And happy blogthday (a bit belated, sorry, we went away for a few days!)
Please enter me in your draw! It's a lovely piece and I really enjoy my visits to your blog.
This is my favourite poem - or was for a very long time when I really needed it. Now I'm much happier! Maybe I should find another poem, but I think this one is SO special.
What the Bird Said Early In The Year – by C.S. Lewis
I heard in Addison’s Walk a bird sing clear:
This year the summer will come true. This year. This year.
Winds will not strip the blossom from the apple trees
This year nor want of rain destroy the peas.
This year time’s nature will no more defeat you.
Nor all the promised moments in their passing cheat you.
This time they will not lead you round and back
To Autumn, one year older, by the well worn track.
This year, this year, as all these flowers foretell,
We shall escape the circle and undo the spell.
Often deceived, yet open once again your heart,
Quick, quick, quick, quick! – the gates are drawn apart.
naomijoynz AT gmail DOT com
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