Writings inspired by Pablo Neruda

Summer Flight

I leap straight into your arms
without looking down
as if I knew you would catch me:
caterpillar hands, dragonfly wings

I gaze at your lips as if I have kissed
them a thousand times in my head, slowly
my fingers travel to your waist and hips,
as if I knew them intimately, smoothly

the seas I have crossed are red
coral reefs still cling to my russet face 
I even smelled death on an old man's tears
and green is my favorite color      

my wings bring me here today 
I don't pretend to understand you wholly 
except that your words storm the shores of me, 
sailing my white tidy boats to voyages unknown  

hold my face cresting on your chest, 
it's warm as the summer grapes 
A poetic response to :   Your hands by Pablo Neruda 
"When your hands leap
towards mine, love,
what do they bring me in flight?"




Adrift in the city, I picked up a fallen twig
and lifted its whisper to my pale lips
maybe it was the crying of the geese,
a cracked pine cone, or a bruised heart
Something from afar flutter its wings 
echoes of tropical sea, beside the volcanic bed, 
the pitter patter of rain on palm leaf, 
soft as frangipani petals on bamboo mats 
Awakening from deep winter night, the maple leaf
sang under my tongue, its sweet fragrance 
wafting cheeks, now blushed with hot summer nights
Suddenly my breast clenched in memory of 
my roots, shorelines stringed of coconut husks,
halved, its fleshy juice quenching my thirst,     
and I stopped, wounded by the wandering scent. *
Line and Inspiration:   Pablo Neruda:   Lost in the forest 



What I want to do with you

morning paints your eyes grey 
but I smell the wild sea on your hair

the sad wind is blowing away
blue winterdrops on my arms but
i love you 
and my happiness craves the 
honeycomb in your lips 

the rain drenches my skirt
tinged with red plums and berries

your words caress my neck,
i want to sink into your folds
like water on parched paper      

the sun nudges my limbs apart,
i want to embrace the scent 
of your solitary soul, thrust of passion
in the changing shadow and light

moths and birds flee with our cries, 
leaves quiver to the bee stings  
I want to do with you 
what spring does to the cherry tree.*



  1. (Alright, I've had a muffin now. Let's try this again.)

    I'm always happy to run into another Neruda lover, he's one of my favorites. Besides the lines you've lifted directly, I can see where your general style was inspired by some of his. Lines like this--

    "Adrift in the city, I picked up a fallen twig
    and lifted its whisper to my pale lips"

    bring up a vividly synesthetic blend of images that does remind me of some of his writing. I like these.

  2. oh, these are really beautiful, and they are evocative of Neruda but so worthy in their own right, perhaps an homage without being just imitative. the last of the three is beyond sensuous!


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