On “3 Statements on Poetry by E.E. Cummings”

What a powerful essay!! I am assuming that these statements were the introduction to a book of some sort.

 

I understand that not everyone can understand poetry, and there are far fewer people who are talented enough to write it.

 

I find that when I read poetry, if it is decent poetry, I am born again. For the few moments that I am reading it, it is like I am absorbed up in some dreamy, higher world, and that I am being changed. No matter how much I try to get myself down from that level, and back to the way I existed before, I can’t, because I have another out look on life, another path so to speak. But unlike “mostpeople”, I want to be born again, to experience the unknown and to have my eyes opened up to a much greater world. I want to venture out into the heart of life, and the “heart of darkness.” I know that along with this comes pity, and doom, but if you don’t experience those things to even a minor extent, you are not truly experiencing life.

 

But at the same time, maybe we are not being completely reborn, but growing; growing up in a dangerous world full of disasters and dead ends.

 

My favorite part of this piece of literature is the third part. It holds so much meaning, and uses words that “mostpeople” will understand. “To feel” is one of the hardest things anyone can ever do in life, and then to try and understand those feelings, and be able to convert them over to paper is amazing. It is no wonder only a few people have such skill.

 

My whole life is going to be a battle to try and come up with my own words to my own feelings. But to be able to write one good line in my life span will be considered my best accomplishment. I know how hard the path is going to be, but I know that no matter how hard I fight, this battle is never going to be over. I am going to fight until I die. 

 

 

Here is a sonnet written by Jodie earlier this year:

Wasted 

 

I blindly overtook my passing years

Not noticing the time was racing by

So much seemed worth achieving then, and I—

Was unaware that time became my fear.

Procrastination now seems all too clear.

And all those nights alone, awake I’d lie,

Not thinking, time is slowly passing by

As I grow older and the end comes near.

 

Time modifies perception. Even though

What does remain is altered, and ahead

The sorrow lies distributed, and spread;

Still flinching, I’ll move on with life and grow, -

Still putting off, and off, though time has gone.

The tank is empty but the wheels roll on.