2 poems inspired by Pablo Neruda's first lines

Pablo Neruda 1934

From:

Las Furias Y Las Penas/

Furies and Sorrows    (1129),  1945

(En el fondo del pecho estamus juntos,)

In the depths of our hearts we are together.

Truth and powers were our daily tribunal,

And what we wrote as two came to pass

For others who were not as lucky as us.

Barcarole   (107),   1934

(Si solamente metocaras el corazon,)

If only you would touch my heart..

A place that has missed you like blood,

Aching for your very innocence and consciousness,

Passed by here forever like the body

Of the wind that dies in June.

Truth 1 and Truth 2

Two poems with first lines borrowed from another poet…in this case;

Emily Dickinson.

(for Poetic Asides, blog of Robert Brewer on Writers Digest)

_____________________________________________________________

Truth 1

First line by:

Emily Dickinson     (435),  1890….

Much madness is divinest sense…

The heart does not censure truth.

The hand pulls the curtain,

For reasons it knows.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­_______________________________________________________________

Truth 2

First line by:

Emily Dickinson     (1129),  1945

Tell the truth but tell it slant –

With humor,

Or a grain of salt,

Or by finishing the story -

The next day,

Or next week for those most closed.

On Poetry

On Poetry

A poem is an independent thing, existing in and of its self until someone reads it. It may be even the poet, long after the poem has been written. Anything can inspire a poem and it can happen at any time. I am most inspired when driving or when I go to bed – then I get up and return to the computer. If I do not do that, the poem could be lost. When driving I am writing on a notebook by my side. Often, I have to pull over so I will not have an accident. Sometimes, I cannot go to sleep because a poem is looking for a pencil in my head. This usually happens when I have several poems to write down. There is no stopping the drive of the poem, the creative instinct. It is a force beyond the person who claims it. We are just lucky to be the channeling incident in its momentary push to become a reality.

Prose: Birthday

Birthday

It is good to go out with friends and celebrate something. What is celebrated is really not the main consideration. Last night was one of those nights. In attendance were some of my old students, a friend from Milan, an exile from Mexico and others. One student I have known since he was twelve. Now he is thirty two. He is the same creative force he has always been, though a little surprised, harried, and reconciled from life’s wear on his artistic spirit. The sangria with peaches was flowing, though few of us were drinkers. We talked about each other as we usually did with insights into each personality, our foibles, triumphs, and particular talents. We closed the restaurant though we were told they were not waiting for us  -  a kind reminder of our excessive friendship.