Philosophical wonder woman

It's been a while since I read for pleasure.  I generally read mostly work-related articles until my eyes give out. But as a former English major, I need a fix... Poetry for me is not hearts and flowers. It's angst, frustration, love, passion; every raw emotion expressed in a unique perspective. I'll admit I was never a good writer of poetry, (at least by my professors' standards), but it fuels the soul. In the words of Robin Williams in "Dead Poets Society".... " We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for." "Humanity I Love You" by E E Cummings Humanity i love you because you would rather black the boots of success than enquire whose soul ...

some days i just can't express in concrete thought the abstract flow of my mind, so i let a poet like e.e. cummings do it for me: since feeling is first who pays any attention to the syntax of things will never wholly kiss you; wholly to be a fool while Spring is in the world my blood approves, and kisses are a better fate than wisdom lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry --the best gesture of my brain is less than your eyelids' flutter which says we are for each other: then laugh, leaning back in my arms for life's not a paragraph And death i think is no parenthesis ~ e.e. cummings

i thank You god for most this amazing day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything which is natural which is infinite which is yes (i who have died am alive again today, and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth day of life and love and wings: and of the gay great happening illimitably earth) how should tasting touching hearing seeing breathing any-lifted from the no of all nothing-human merely being doubt unimaginable You? (now the ears of my ears awake and now the eyes of my eyes are opened) ~e.e. cummings~