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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 |
Opium
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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. |
Write your own english paper. I'll do it for cash (in advance). :eyebrow:
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i just wanted to know what other people thought of it. |
ee cummings was a brilliant poet. IMHO.
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Obfuscation. :eyebrow:
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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. |
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. |
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It's a picture of a community and the persistence of time, and how they coexist without one altering the other.
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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.” |
I have never been able to explain poetry. I can barely read it.
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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:
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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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