Poem for Monday and <lj comm

my father moved through dooms of love
by e. e. cummings

my father moved through dooms of love
through sames of am through haves of give,
singing each morning out of each night
my father moved through depths of height

this motionless forgetful where
turned at his glance to shining here;
that if(so timid air is firm)
under his eyes would stir and squirm

newly as from unburied which
floats the first who,his april touch
drove sleeping selves to swarm their fates
woke dreamers to their ghostly roots

and should some why completely weep
my father's fingers brought her sleep:
vainly no smallest voice might cry
for he could feel the mountains grow.

Lifting the valleys of the sea
my father moved through griefs of joy;
praising a forehead called the moon
singing desire into begin

joy was his song and joy so pure
a heart of star by him could steer
and pure so now and now so yes
the wrists of twilight would rejoice

keen as midsummer's keen beyond
conceiving mind of sun will stand,
so strictly(over utmost him
so hugely) stood my father's dream

his flesh was flesh his blood was blood:
no hungry man but wished him food;
no cripple wouldn't creep one mile
uphill to only see him smile.

Scorning the Pomp of must and shall
my father moved through dooms of feel;
his anger was as right as rain
his pity was as green as grain

septembering arms of year extend
yes humbly wealth to foe and friend
than he to foolish and to wise
offered immeasurable is

proudly and(by octobering flame
beckoned)as earth will downward climb,
so naked for immortal work
his shoulders marched against the dark

his sorrow was as true as bread:
no liar looked him in the head;
if every friend became his foe
he'd laugh and build a world with snow.

My father moved through theys of we,
singing each new leaf out of each tree
(and every child was sure that spring
danced when she heard my father sing)

then let men kill which cannot share,
let blood and flesh be mud and mire,
scheming imagine,passion willed,
freedom a drug that's bought and sold

giving to steal and cruel kind,
a heart to fear,to doubt a mind,
to differ a disease of same,
conform the pinnacle of am

though dull were all we taste as bright,
bitter all utterly things sweet,
maggoty minus and dumb death
all we inherit,all bequeath

and nothing quite so least as truth
--i say though hate were why men breathe--
because my Father lived his soul
love is the whole and more than all

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: Whitewash, for the challenge to pick someone else's plot summary and write a drabble based upon it. My summary was "All she wanted to do was prepare a nice meal for the man she loves," by HRHBunbury.

And from The Green Man Review, my review of Angels & Demons. Perhaps not as amusing as Bjo Trimble's scathing comments on Enterprise that I got to report for TrekToday yesterday, but I'm pretty happy with it.

Yesterday we did go down to the Civil War Days festival at the Smithsonian's Museum of American History, where we went to a wonderful slide show and lecture about 3D photography of the war and its key figures. We also walked through the exhibit on pueblos of New Mexico. Then we wandered next door to Natural History (see below) where one son wanted to see the Hope Diamond and the dinosaurs while the other wanted to see sea life and mammal bones. Afterwards we had ice cream and went to my parents' house for dinner. They have graciously agreed to babysit tonight since I have an early dentist appointment tomorrow morning and my mother is going to watch the boys, so I must think of something exciting to do tonight while child-free!


The Elephant in the Rotunda, National Museum of Natural History