Thought Wheel

Ann Chiappetta

Christmas Poem 🌲

| Filed under Poem

Happy Holidays to all.

🌲    🤶  🎅

Below is the text of Little Tree, a poem by e. e. cummings. The reading of it is also part of this post. I hope you enjoy it.  As for the poet, e. e. cummings – he was a poet before his time. Born in 1874 in Cambridge, Massachusetts,  he experimented with  breaking literary traditions, hence the lack of capitalization and punctuation in  his work.

 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/E._E._Cummings

 

[little tree]

  1. E. Cummings

 

“little tree
little silent Christmas tree
you are so little
you are more like a flower

who found you in the green forest
and were you very sorry to come away?
see            i will comfort you
because you smell so sweetly

i will kiss your cool bark
and hug you safe and tight
just as your mother would,
only don’t be afraid

look           the spangles
that sleep all the year in a dark box
dreaming of being taken out and allowed to shine,
the balls the chains red and gold the fluffy threads,

put up your little arms
and i’ll give them all to you to hold.
every finger shall have its ring
and there won’t be a single place dark or unhappy

then when you’re quite dressed
you’ll stand in the window for everyone to see
and how they’ll stare!
oh but you’ll be very proud

and my little sister and i will take hands
and looking up at our beautiful tree
we’ll dance and sing
“Noel Noel”

 

 

Sharing Poetry

| Filed under Poem writing

A Blessing

By James Wright

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/46481/a-blessing#mainContent

 

Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans.  They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more, they begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
For she has walked over to me
And nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,
Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl’s wrist.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break
Into blossom.