Wednesday, December 28, 2005
POETRY READING
A friend introduced me a month ago to Pablo Neruda and apparently, she noticed a similarity with his works with one of the poems (Quick Sand) I’ve written.
I write poems but I rarely read poems by other poets. As of late I’ve been reading e.e. cummings’ poems and of course, Pablo Neruda.
Sonnet XVII
By Pablo Neruda
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
IF YOU FORGET ME
By Pablo Neruda
I want you to know
one thing.
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.
But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.
speaking of love(of... (LV)
by e.e. cummings
speaking of love(of
which Who knows the
meaning;or how dreaming
becomes
if your heart's mind)i
guess a grassblade
Thinks beyond or
around(as poems are
made)Our picking it. this
caress that laugh
both quickly signify
life's only half(through
deep weather then
or none let's feel
all)mind in mind flesh
In flesh succeeding disappear
posted by vinz @ 12:05 AM
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5 Comments:
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At 8:04 PM, Steffi said…
these are amazing. thank you for posting them.
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At 8:08 PM, vinz said…
you're welcome. ^_^
so far, i'm the only guy i know that reads pablo neruda.. :)
and pablo is the reason why i'm writing poems again.. along with e.e.cummings of course ;)
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At 2:45 AM, vinz said…
i'm NOT alone.
hahahah
finally a guy who reads neruda.
bwhahaha... >:)
yah the tonight i can write the saddest lines is one of my favorites too. :)
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At 2:59 AM, said…
OH MY GAB (sleepdreamer) !!!lolz that's my favorite POEM! I love pablo neruda. See, ur not alone vinzi =)
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At 12:36 PM, vinz said…
sorry to here that gab..
if it makes you feel better i LENT a girl i used to date my mandy moore CDs. she never returned it, i never recovered from getting my cds back.. i bought a couple of them from her concert there and the other was sent to me from the states.. curse her.. haahha >:)
