it is at moments after I have dreamed of the rare entertainment of your eyes

Received a lovely book on a collection of e e cummings’ poetry for Christmas, and finally had time to sit down and read it properly over the weekend.

I love his poetry and have posted an entry earlier on my favourite poem of his (‘somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond’)

This is another of my favourite poems. Enjoy!

it is at moments after i have dreamed
of the rare entertainment of your eyes,
when(being fool to fancy)i have deemed

with your peculiar mouth my heart made wise;
at moments when the glassy darkness holds

the genuine apparition of your smile
(it was through tears always)and silence moulds
such strangeness as was mine a little while;

moments when my once more illustrious arms
are filled with fascination,when my breast
wears the intolerant brightness of your charms:

one pierced moment whiter than the rest

–turning from the tremendous lie of sleep
i watch the roses of the day grow deep.


~ by irwin on January 5, 2009.

2 Responses to “it is at moments after I have dreamed of the rare entertainment of your eyes”

  1. my personal favorite from e.e.cumings-

    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 will easily 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 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

    simply admire his ability to speak of the above in a more concise, eloquent, and rhetorical way.

  2. Haha, thanks for your comment Jess. =) I love this poem of his too, and have actually posted it in an earlier entry! But it’s always worth reading this poem again and again…=) It’s lovely!

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