CarpeBanana

According to SmallWorld, it is Poetry Month and she is looking for Spring poems. Here are her rules for the contest:

In celebration of “the white cloud’s intricate maze, And the blue sky’s beautiful sheen,” I am hereby announcing SmallWorld’s In Just-spring Mudluscious Poetry Contest. It’s really quite simple. Just copy and paste this orange-lettered section onto your own blog along with a poem that in some way celebrates spring. (Copy the contest photo above if you want, as well!) Leave me a comment with a link to your contest entry. The poem doesn’t have to overtly use the word “spring,” but it should in some way evoke the feeling of spring. If you don’t have a blog, just leave a poem in the comments.

I’ll be running this particular contest until April 10, so you’ve got plenty of time to find just the perfect poem. I will randomly choose a winner, who will receive a box in the mail filled with some of my favorite spring things  (think gardens, good smells, and prettiness, unless the winner is male, in which case, scratch the good smells and pretty things).

When I consulted my brain under the file: Poetry; sub-file: Spring, the top entry was one from my high school poetry days, the e. e. cummings:

if everything happens that can’t be done

if everything happens that can’t be done
(and anything’s righter
than books
could plan)
the stupidest teacher will almost guess
(with a run
skip
around we go yes)
there’s nothing as something as one

one hasn’t a why or because or although
(and buds know better
than books
don’t grow)
one’s anything old being everything new
(with a what
which
around we go who)
one’s everyanything so

so world is a leaf is a tree is a bough
(and birds sing sweeter
than books
tell how)
so here is away and so your is a my
(with a down
up
around again fly)
forever was never till now

now i love you and you love me
(and books are shutter
than books
can be)
and deep in the high that does nothing but fall
(with a shout
each
around we go all)
there’s somebody calling who’s we

we’re everything brighter than even the sun
(we’re everything greater
than books
might mean)
we’re everyanything more than believe
(with a spin
leap
alive we’re alive)
we’re wonderful one times one

Spring is when Christ bought life for His people who were dead ~ in other words ~ everything happened that can’t be done.

Now, if SmallWorld had changed the contest to April poems, as the owner of lilacs right by my door, I would have had to go with The Wasteland:

April is the cruellest month, breeding

Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing

Memory and desire, stirring

Dull roots with spring rain.

I love that, too. Thanks, SmallWorld, for a fun contest!