Getting My e.e. cummings On

I recently started writing poetry again, and after a two-year hiatus, it was tough.  It was as if I had never written any poetry in my life, that I was starting fresh.  In some ways, that can be a good thing, but in this case, it wasn’t.

My normal process is to freewrite madly, tossing as many ideas and images as I can at myself (generally on computer or sometimes by hand) and seeing what sticks.  Many of the poems in Life as a Moving Target and Without Wings started out as freewrites.  It’s always worked for me in the past, so I figured I’d start there.

It worked for a bit, then just tanked.  I tried not to be hard on myself.  It’s been two years, and I need to get back into the swing of things, right?  Surely I’d start feeling more comfortable, more familiar with this.  Maybe it would feel like coming home.

Did not happen.

So I tried a new form called a rondeau that was featured in The Writer magazine.  I thought, why not?  It uses rhyme and repetition.  I’m a huge fan of repetition poems (particularly sestinas and pantoums) but I suck with rhyme.  I’ve had some limited success in the past, but still… I wanted to see where it went.  And it went kind of tough, so I abandoned it for the time being. I’ll let it cool off and poke at it again sometime soon.

So what did I end up doing?  I’ve always enjoyed e.e. cummings.  His poetry is very different, especially in form, and can sometimes be really odd.  But if you look beyond the odd, you’ll see the beauty of his words underneath.

Take this, for an example, from my favorite poem of his, i carry your heart with me:

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

It’s absolutely beautiful, and the image that haunts me is carrying someone’s heart inside your own.  So I thought, hmmmm.  Maybe I need to get my e.e. cummings on.  I’ve never tried to write like that, and it couldn’t hurt to try, right?

It flowed.  Granted, it’s not perfect, and the four drafts I wrote will need work, but for a beginning?  They’re great.  The words just tumbled out of me.  I couldn’t even believe it. 

I’m looking forward to writing more. 

So e.e. cummings, thank you for the inspiration.