A Poet’s Response (a response to Pablo Neruda's "The Poet")
In the new daze(days) I go through life
in the grip of newfound love and cherishing
a tiny shimmer of opalescence
and my eyes weep for the eyes of those who will not know
I shop for new opportunities, stop
to go out of my way for others, exhaling
my own sprays of love, the unknown
acceptance of woman and man.
I live in a world where I move forward
where the sudden raindrop, the falling water
soak me in god’s tears
and wherever I step my feet my pant leg gets wet,
but yet I walk on.
This is the way my essence manifests--
a sliver off the source, life
throws you down in punishment, to wait
for your arise like it’s most beautiful flower
growing out of the asphalt, like you never thought possible.
Looking out on the bright horizon,
the vast and deep sea
I stay steady as I search for
a holy being, the daily prayer
I know the lessons make me thrive
by teaching me I can teach others
about the foreign lands, and in the small drop of
my life, I meet with God.
Blessings carving my path.
Enlightenment plastered among the walls.
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 4:34 PM UTC
A Poet’s Response (a response to Pablo Neruda's "The Poet")
In the new daze(days) I go through life
in the grip of newfound love and cherishing
a tiny shimmer of opalescence
and my eyes weep for the eyes of those who will not know
I shop for new opportunities, stop
to go out of my way for others, exhaling
my own sprays of love, the unknown
acceptance of woman and man.
I live in a world where I move forward
where the sudden raindrop, the falling water
soak me in god’s tears
and wherever I step my feet my pant leg gets wet,
but yet I walk on.
This is the way my essence manifests--
a sliver off the source, life
throws you down in punishment, to wait
for your arise like it’s most beautiful flower
growing out of the asphalt, like you never thought possible.
Looking out on the bright horizon,
the vast and deep sea
I stay steady as I search for
a holy being, the daily prayer
I know the lessons make me thrive
by teaching me I can teach others
about the foreign lands, and in the small drop of
my life, I meet with God.
Blessings carving my path.
Enlightenment plastered among the walls.
response poem to
Pablo Neruda's "The Poet":
In the old days I went through life
in the grip of a tragic love and cherishing
a little leaflet of quartz
and I nailed life down with my eyes.
I shopped for generosity, walked
in the market of greed, inhaled
the most secret fumes of envy, the inhuman
hostility of masks and men.
I lived a world of everglades
where the sudden flower, the madonna lily
devoured me in her shivering foam
and wherever I set my foot my soul sideslipped
into the jaws of death.
This is the way my poetry was born– no sooner than
redeemed from nettles, won
out of solitude like a punishment,
or how it set apart its most mysterious flower
in the brazen garden, as if to bury it.
Locked out this way like the dark waters
that live in its deep channels
I ran this way and that seeking the solitude
of every being, the daily hatefulness.
I knew that they thrived by drowning
half human life like fish
in the most foreign seas, and in the hugeness of
the vasty deep I met with death.
Death opening doors and paths.
Death slithering over walls.
