| Title | : | Selected Poems, 1923-1958 |
| Author | : | |
| Rating | : | |
| ISBN | : | - |
| Language | : | English |
| Format Type | : | Paperback |
| Number of Pages | : | 128 |
| Publication | : | First published January 1, 1960 |
Selected Poems, 1923-1958 Reviews
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Selected Poems 1923-1958 was a reread for me. I adore cummings' poetry; it feels fresh and experimental, even reading it in the twenty-first century. The selections for this particular volume were made by cummings himself, from eleven of his previous bodies of work. I wrote out an extensive list of favourite quotes, and have selected five to accompany this review.
- 'the little / lone balloonman // whistles far and wee'
- 'and it's / spring // when the world is puddle-wonderful'
- ' - before leaving my room / i turn, and (stooping / through the morning) kiss / this pillow, dear / where our heads lived and were.'
- 'and dark beginnings are his luminous ends'
- 'death (having lost) put on his universe / and yawned' -
Cummings is my favourite poet. I love going back to this collection (handpicked by Cummings himself) whenever I feel confused, emotional, needy and in want of comfort. His poems are about infatuation, devotion, spring, war and our human desire for love. Truly one of the most inspired and deeply compassionate poets.
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One of my favourite poets to read. His work is heavily inspired by the DADA movement and the surrealists, and his writing about love and it's connection to spring and nature is very enlightening. -
I am not much of a reader of poetry and even with e.e.Cummings that is true. BUT, even if you do not like entire poems--he has lines that stand out , shine and make you smile. This is one of those poetry books that I have lying around to read when I have just a short time. The special (to me) lines that can be full of satire, sometimes serious and very humorous is why I rated it 4 stars.
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One of my favorites:
in time of daffodils(who know
the goal of living is to grow)
forgetting why,remember how
in time of lilacs who proclaim
the aim of waking is to dream,
remember so(forgetting seem)
in time of roses(who amaze
our now and here with paradise)
forgetting if,remember yes
in time of all sweet things beyond
whatever mind may comprehend,
remember seek(forgetting find)
and in a mystery to be
(when time from time shall set us free)
forgetting me,remember me -
review to follow
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((delightful !))
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je l'adoreee. "eternity being so sans until/ twice i have lived forever in a smile." this made me smile and witness some smiles. aw.
so much about timelessness and being in time that heidegger's lens could be interesting. cumming's 'in love' analogue to 'in time', while timelessness translates to unlove.
"since feeling is first/ who pays any attention/ to the syntax of things." the breaks with syntax elevate the said as allowing to overcome at least some language cages. isn't "t,a,p,s" so much more tapping than 'taps'? joy for a neuro-atypical brain. things make more sense when feeling rules syntax and not the other way around. poems richer and words fuller with meaning.
lots of themes: april/ time/ america/ eternity/ violets/ christ/ death/ yes/ sex/ sky/ ...
lots of favourites. -
A fine collection of hundred poems by the idiosyncratic American poet, selected by himself.
Cummings uses no capitals, has quite an original use of punctuation and syntax, and makes frequent use of parentheses. Yet, the poems are at times less modern than they first look - they're clearly well structured, and they often rhyme.
The poems range from easy to follow to incomprehensible, but most of them celebrate love, life, nature and the universe. Thus, the poems are often ecstatic in nature, and filled with a rather mystic sense of God, without ever becoming overtly religious. Spring clearly has a special place in Cummings' heart, for many poems are devoted to this particular season.
Despite the recycling of these themes, Cummings never becomes cheap or repetitive. Even better, he can also be satirical, and there's even a sarcastic, angry poem ignited by the 1956 Soviet invasion of Hungary, and the lack of response from the Western countries.
Some of Cummings' poems are real beauties, and certainly invite to read aloud. -
This is one of my favourite books. Ever. e e cummings is my favourite poet because of the way he can just express normal things with such originality. It's his short phrases like "hips pumping pleasure into hips" and "you open always petal by petal myself" that do it for me everytime. I love the way he neglects to use titles for his poems and I love the sensuality that he embodies for me.
What I love most about this collection of poems selected by e e cummings himself is the wide variety and the varying themes within each poem. This makes the book perfect to read as you can pick it up at any page and read. Each poem is a snapshot in itself. That, for me, is what makes this book so beautiful. -
This is an absolutely stellar selection of 100 poems by the 20th century mastery of poetry, e. e. cummings (yes, all lower case, as he liked it). This selection was made by the poet himself.
While Cummings does try to cover his best poems from each book over his career, you can see clearly which books he thought 'aged' better than others - in particular, the volumes is 5 and 1 x 1 were the two volumes from which he drew most poems, and I must say that that was a good choice as that is when cummings was probably at the height of his powers.
Think of this book as a 'primer' of e. e. cummings of sorts. Prepare to have your mind gently blown. You will encounter unusual typography and deliberately mangled syntax, which will at times remind you of Gertrude Stein, without Gertie's annoying persistence to monotonous repetition.
All in all, a stunning collection for anyone who wants to have a basic knowledge of cummings' poetry. If you wish to go the whole hog, and join the (moveable but not entirely portable) feast, then I recommend checking out The Collected Poems of E. E. Cummings. -
Easier to understand Cummings as an influence on the Merseybeat poets of the ‘60s than try and make sense of what half of this is on about. Disappointing but with some highlights.
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for every profound and beautiful line there’s at least 200 lines where nothing makes sense and e.e is just wittering on or making non-sensical observations about spring 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨
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he has like 3 good poems the rest lowkey ASS
BYE -
some bits felt too sappy close to tumblr poetry but two poems made me shed a tear or two
highlights
-‘i carry your heart’
-praising a forehead called the moon
-my blood approves and kisses are a better fate than wisdom -
Favourite Poems: It may not always be so, My love, My father moved through dooms of love, Maggie and milly and molly and mae.
A flowering celebration of spring, love, death, and life. Adored a number of these poems and have mixed feelings on his experimental ones. His modernist approach to language was revolutionary, completely utilising the freedom of a blank page and demonstrating that language is not static.
While this is an important development in poetry, it’s still slightly…annoying? Some of them are good, like ‘ygUDuh’ reading like a slurred, drunk monologue. The poorly-punctuated Cummings poems do have a purpose to their form, but his more conventional ones left a larger emotional impact. -
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 hope and then) they
said their nevers they slept their dream
stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to 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
[54–5] -
There’s a poem in this book that someone read to me because either it reminded them of me, or I reminded them of it. I can’t remember which. Perhaps it was both. That day, I went to two separate bookshops to find and buy myself a copy of this collection, so I might commit the poem to memory. Maybe it was the poem itself, or maybe it was the scenario in which I encountered it, but I spent a lot of time and thought on analysing it, because that was the most tender, most human thing I’d experienced in a long time. Reading cummings analytically made me realise there’s more to him than meets the eye, and that the seemingly flagrant abandonment of grammatical and poetic convention actually cleverly conceals a mechanism that initiates catharsis, generates an accessible voice, scandalises the preceding traditions of poetry, and forces a new poetic mode into the canon.
The five stars may be generous of me, but that’s sentiment for you, and the poetry had to be decent for sentiment to be worth anything. -
A very enjoyable collection. Slightly hindered in enjoyment by Cummings' allergy to any punctuation or many titles. So not for the casual reader for sure. Personally felt that Cummings was more comfortable in the poems centred around love but most were lovely.
Personal favourites in collection:
- The greatest advantage of being alive
- No time ago
- Now all the fingers of this tree (darling) have
- In time of daffodils (who know
- Stand with your lover on the ending earth
- unlove's the heaven less hell and homeless home
- I carry your heart with me -
This was originally published on March 31st, 2020 on my blog about the intersection of books and life (
www.readingintolife.com):
ee cummings Selected Poems and slowing down
Reading ee cummings’ poetry cover-to-cover has the overall effect of turning your brain into soup. The words twist and dance and slip into crevices where you don’t expect them to fit. And just when you think you’ve truly lost your mind, you find a nugget of tangible wisdom that opens your heart and makes you realize it was all so very worth it.
"For whatever we lose(like a you or a me)
it's always ourselves we find in the sea"
- Cummings, p. 97
ee cummings is one of my favorite poets for exactly that reason.
This particular selection of poems intercepted my attention in a Waterstones while I was on the hunt for some Mary Oliver poetry. While I found both authors irresistibly calling out to me from the shelf, Oliver’s works happened to be (inexplicably) stupid expensive. So I left her behind for now.
cummings writes primarily about love, spring, nature, freedom, and war, and the intersections therein. He is a flagrant and deliberate rule-breaker. His work is stormy, sarcastic, crude and wily just as much as it is lyric, sweet and feely. You have to slow way down when you read it so as not to miss something.
I was unsure how his poetry would land with me considering all that’s happening right now. Romance and nature and freedom just seem like far away, intangible things that aren’t able to touch my life right now. So, would any of this really resonate?
But, of course, this turned out to be the perfect manual for remembering how to slow down and take in all the details of this life, especially when it feels like our snug, little snow-globe has been so rudely shaken.
"all the pretty birds dive to the heart of the sky
all the little fish climb through the mind of the sea
(all the mountains are dancing;are dancing)""
- Cummings, p. 94
I’m currently isolated in my flat, doing my best to stop the spread of Coronavirus as it rampages through London. Meanwhile, I’m feeling so much love pour into and out of my heart through the connectivity and support that the internet (thank GOD) offers me.
"love is a deeper season
than reason;"
- Cummings, p. 79
"it is most mad and moonly"
- Cummings, p. 62
While I’m missing the smells and sounds and feels of spring blossoming outside, I’m watching it unfurl through my window and also through the swelling buds of an orchid (the slowest of creatures) that I’m babysitting.
"when faces called flowers float out of the ground"
- Cummings, p. 94
cummings reminded me of the endless gratitude I already have for the natural world and that I can keep it in my heart even if I can’t be in it quite yet…
"i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes"
- Cummings, p. 92
I started making a point to read one poem each morning – first thing when I woke up, instead of looking at my phone or checking the news. In that way, ee shaped my intention and focus for every day in a positive, if not dreamy and still somehow grounded way.
"I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance"
- Cummings, p. 50
cummings has a way of touching and illuminating some of the most meaningful whispers in my heart. He has words for the things that ignite the fires behind the choices I make about how to live and love and be and care. I was silly to think that this latest adventure in reading his work would be any different. So, thank you, mr. cummings, for writing your magic and sharing your joy and reminding me of my most always self.
References and links can be found in
the original post -
originally, i had picked up
No Thanks as my first foray into the poetry of cummings. when i decided to find the wikipedia page of that book, just in case, i read it was considered one of his most challenging collections. so, i quickly changed my mind and picked an anthology. i believe i made the right decision. unlike the few poems i got to look in my original selection, the ones in here are challenging (most of the time although not all of the time) ina more syntactical level. wikipedia told me this was the usual. the ones in "no thanks" were simply too baffling for me, as a neophyte of his work, to dip my toes in. the good news is, this collection was quite comfortable and i want to pick up more of his anthologies in the future. the bad news, i don't think "no thanks" will be in the cards any time soon. -
Reading Cummings' poetry feels like entering a surreal playground.
He's playful, spontaneous, experimental, wrenching and reshaping poetical form to meet his vision.
My first thought while reading him was: are you playing with my mind?
Overall, although i found some of the poems annoying and tiresome, he does have brilliant "paint strokes" that stand out and provoke you to go back and read the whole poem again only to discover that you weren't quite paying attention before you were awaken. -
A beautiful and bizarre collection of poems. I found that often I loved individual lines, but barely understood the rest of the poem.
Favourites:
my sweet old et cetera (26)
in spite of everything (28)
if there are any heavens my mother will (all by herself) have (33)
yes is a pleasant country: (79)
"sweet spring is your (82)
when serpents bargain for the right to squirm (86)
when faces called flowers float out of the ground (94)
in time of daffodils(who know (100)
i carry your heart with me (i carry it in (115)
being to timelessness as it's to time, (117) -
when more than was lost has been found has been found
and having is giving and giving is living -
but keeping is darkness and winter and cringing
-it's spring(all our night becomes day)o,it's spring!
all the pretty birds dive to the heard of the sky
all the little fish climb through the mind of the sea
(all the mountains are dancing;are dancing)
***
so world is a leaf so tree is a bough
(and birds sing sweeter
than books
tell how)
so here is away and so your is a my
(with a down
up
around again fly)
forever was never till now -
I would probably give this collection between 3 and 3.5
There are some poems in this collection that are truly beautiful and incredibly innovative. It has left me with a lot of ideas as to my own poetry.
However, there's also a lot of poems that just don't make sense to me, or ones that felt like a slog to get through.
Also, E.E. Cummings being a fan of McCarthy and writing sexist/racist poetry was NOT expected, but is incredibly disappointing. I can't in good faith say I loved this collection as a result. -
There definitely are some incredible lines and poems in this collection but overall I find Cummings' experimental style too gibberishy and incomprehensible. When his notions strike they strike hard and his message is heartfelt and lofty and simple and broad yet granular and emotional yet impartial. But I guess I wasn't trying to study super carefully a bunch of grammatically insensible syntax to discern meaning, so many of the poems just annoyed me.
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The most conflicted rating I've ever given.
A quarter of these poems are raw and fresh and beautiful but the other three quarters seem as though they were written in a fever dream. Maybe I just don't understand those three quarters?
I expect to like this more on my next read. I hope to like this more on my next read. -
this was really fun but i think a lot of the imagery and cool poem stuff went over my head because i'm kind of dumb lol.
my favourite poems were: O sweet spontaneous(3), it may not always be so; and i say(5), ( of Ever-Ever Land i speak (36), you shall above all things be glad and young.(40), now all the fingers of this tree (darling) have (79), that melancholy (85).
<3 -
Favourites: “Anyone lived in a pretty how town”; “What if a much of a which of a wind”; “I thank you God for most this amazing” (which we sang in community choir); “I am a little church”; and “I carry your heart with me” (a good companion for Sidney’s “My true love hath my heart”). I had to find “All in green went my love riding” online however.
