#e. e. cummings
June Jordan, Kissing God Goodbye
Virginia Woolf, The Waves
Rainer Maria Rilke, Journal of My Other Self
Maggie Nelson, Bluets
Ursula K. Le Guin, A Wizard of Earthsea
Zarina Situmorang, Faith
Richard Siken, Scheherazade
e. e. cummings, #38 from 73 poems
Homero Aridjis (attrib.)
Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles
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— E. E. Cummings, Etcetera: The Unpublished Poems of E.E. Cummings
[text ID: But I’ll live my life if it kills me]
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and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
E. E. Cummings, from [i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]
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the mauve
of twilight (who slenderly descends,
daintily carrying in her eyes the dangerous first stars)
— E.E. Cummings, “Paris; this April Sunset completely utters”
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// Art: “Rednal Wood, Winter” by Elijah Walton
“To be nobody-but-yourself — in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else — means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.”
— E. E. Cummings
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E. E. Cummings, October 14, 1894 – September 3, 1962.
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hey! i hope you're having a lovely day! i was wondering if you could do a weave on love compared to weather? like thunderstorms or sunshine etc. or just stormy weather as a joyful thing :)
Pema Chödrön
John Muir, ‘Mountain Thoughts’, published in John of the Mountains by Linnie Marsh Wolfe
Robert Frost, A Line-Storm Song
Sarah Kay & Phil Kaye, An Origin Story
Leigh Bardugo, Rule of Wolves
Sapardi Djoko Damono, ‘Aku Ingin/I Want’ from Before Dawn (trans. John H. McGlynn)
Clementine von Radics, Mouthful of Forevers
E. E. Cummings, i carry your heart with me
Alice Hoffman, Here On Earth
Edwin Morgan, Valentine Weather
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Não acreditamos em nós mesmos até que alguém revele que dentro de nós algo é valioso, digno de ser ouvido, digno de nossa confiança, sagrado ao nosso toque. Uma vez que acreditamos em nós mesmos, podemos arriscar a curiosidade, o encantamento, o deleite espontâneo ou qualquer experiência que revele o espírito humano.
E. E. Cummings
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~ e. e. cummings, "[somewhere i have never travelled, glady beyond]"
via poetryfoundation.org
text id under cut-off
[text id: e. e. cummings, "[somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond]"
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 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 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 equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the colour 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
/end id]
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i like my body when it is with yours
i like my body when it is with your
body.
It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its how's. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss,
i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh… And eyes big love-crumbs,
and possibly i like the thrill
of under me you so quite new
-E. E. Cummings
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(trees are their roots
and wind is wind)
E. E. Cummings, dive for dreams
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“Your head is a living forest full of song birds”
E. E. Cummings
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(you are Mine said she)
E. E. Cummings, Complete Poems 1904-1962: No Thanks; from ‘may i feel said he…’
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poem by e. e. cummings
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No ser nadie más que tú mismo en un mundo que está haciendo todo lo posible, día y noche, para que seas como todos los demás, significa luchar una de las batallas más duras que cualquier ser humano pueda enfrentar.
E.E. Cummings.
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