Poet of Lovers & Rebels, Poet of Dreamersby MARX77
As is the case with all artists, poets too are greatly influenced by the world around them and how they perceive it.
The splendor of the heavens above, the dynamics of the earth beneath their feet. The uncertainty of life, the inevitability of death. But more importantly, a poet's inspiration comes from what they carry within themselves; their memories, relationships, their dreams, joy and grief. Verses borne of turmoil and tragedy decades ago continue to resonate to this day and are as relevant now as they were back then. Truly poetry is an art form for the ages!
Among the few greats still spearheading the world of literature today, long after they themselves have passed on, is none other than Chilean poet, diplomat, and Nobel Prize in Literature winner, Pablo Neruda.
Unlike many of his peers and contemporaries, Pablo Neruda, to me, never really came across as a product of his time - he was way, way ahead of his time. True he supported communism, and his affiliation with the likes of Batista, Castro and Stalin raised many an eyebrow, even endangering his shot at the coveted Nobel Prize, which he won eventually. But one thing even his biggest critics cannot deny is the sheer genius of the man when it comes to poetry. Pablo Neruda's body of literary work has persevered over the years, and remains ever pertinent in today's rapidly changing world. Be it surrealist, political commentary, or poems on love and of course, love making, this Chilean poet was firing on all cylinders.
About Artists on Writers
Writers will always find inspiration in the visions of artists, always feeling compelled to tell the stories behind the moments captured in artists’ unforgettable images,
Artists will always find inspiration in the words of writers, always feeling compelled to lend visual reality and habitat to the characters described in the scribe’s haunting words.
A Quote From Pablo Neruda
“Someday, somewhere—anywhere, unfailingly, you'll find yourself, and that, and only that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life.”
— Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda Inspired Artwork
Pablo Neruda-BirdIt was passed from one bird to another,
the whole gift of the day.
The day went from flute to flute,
went dressed in vegetation,
in flights which opened a tunnel
through the wind would pass
to where birds were breaking open
the dense blue air -
and there, night came in.
When I returned from so many journeys,
I stayed suspended and green
between sun and geography -
I saw how wings worked,
how perfumes are transmitted
by feathery telegraph,
and from above I saw the path,
the springs and the roof tiles,
the fishermen at their trades,
the trousers of the foam;
I saw it all from my green sky.
I had no more alphabet
than the swallows in their courses,
the tiny, shining water
of the small bird on fire
which dances out of the pollen.
Written by ishouldgonow
In You The Earth
by Pablo Neruda
Little rose, roselet,
tiny and naked,
it seems as though you would fit
in one of my hands,
as though I’ll clasp you like this
and carry you to my mouth,
my feet touch your feet and my mouth your lips:
you have grown,
your shoulders rise like two hills,
your breasts wander over my breast,
my arm scarcely manages to encircle the thin
new-moon line of your waist:
in love you loosened yourself like sea water:
I can scarcely measure the sky’s most spacious eyes
and I lean down to your mouth to kiss the earth.
Written by colbalt-rain
by Pablo Neruda
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.
How To Read Pablo NerudaOpen your heart. Not enough so the monsters come out
but enough so you know they put tears in your eyes
and nestle weights in your ribs. Hold someone's hand.
If not a lover's, a dear friend's. Hold someone close
to your open heart. Not enough so the monsters get them
but enough so they are warmed on your open flame.
Learn Spanish. Learn Spanish enough to know some of the words
and all of the pronunciations. Find one that speaks of your mother
and call her and say it, without small talk, without preface,
your voice and her ears and one poem. Steal his words
from English teachers as you have stolen
so many before. Keep it separate from Flowers for Algernon,
The Once and Future King, Poetry 180. Cling to it
like a raft in a calm lake with the sun on your back and arms.
Write his name on your arm like you are losing your mind.
The pale white surface. The thick
Written by citywings
BIRDIf I regret anything, it is the reticence of birds--
my reticence, the uncertainty of the word "today,"
which rusts like the flute before Judith one.
If there is a time to undress, it is now,
but my thoughts close in on me, like a tunnel,
and I lose sight of everything except the wind.
Beneath it all, my hollow bones
are icy blue, each joy expunged--
I feel it keenly, here, and there.
Written by deadend-zenith
If You Forget Me
by Pablo Neruda
Un chileno especialEn 1904 un año especial
Un 12 de julio nació un militar
Parral en Chile, Su tierra natal
Donde encontró su vocación,
Poemas crear Y con ellos, el mundo colmar.
Un hombre sin igual
Neftalí Ricardo reyes
En 1946 su nombre decidió cambiar
Y Pablo Neruda se decidió llamar.
Entre tantas maravillas, sus obras mas conocidas
"20 poemas de amor y una canción desesperada"
20 formas de expresar el amor hacia su amada
Y sus 100 sonetos de amor
Que expresaban con mucho fervor
Ese tierno y bello sentimiento
Que siempre vive el corazón
De"ahora es Cuba" es el autor
Y en internet, el más buscado escritor
Por "si tu me olvidas" lo recordare siempre
Y a este poeta ejemplar no sacare de mi mente.
Dijo Gabriel García Márquez
Un novelista influyente
"del siglo XX el mas grande poeta"
Y sus obras las mas buscadas actualmente.
Aquellos premios que ha ganado
Son tantos que no se pueden contar,
En 1971, el Novel de Literatura se
Written by Blankistar
Si Tu Me Olvidas
by Pablo Neruda
Quiero que sepas
Tú sabes cómo es esto:
la luna de cristal, la rama roja
del lento otoño en mi ventana,
junto al fuego
la impalpable ceniza
o el arrugado cuerpo de la leña,
todo me lleva a ti,
como si todo lo que existe:
aromas, luz, metales,
fueran pequeños barcos que navegan
hacia las islas tuyas que me aguardan.
si poco a poco dejas de quererme
dejaré de quererte poco a poco.
Si de pronto
no me busques,
que ya te habré olvidado.
Si consideras largo y loco
el viento de banderas
que pasa por mi vida
y te decides
a dejarme a la orilla
del corazón en que tengo raíces,
que en esa día,
a esa hora
levantaré los brazos
y saldrán mis raíces
a buscar otra tierra.
Pero si cada día, cada hora,
sientes que a mí estás destinada
con dulzura implacable,
si cada día sube
una flor a tus labios a buscarme,
ay amor mío, ay mía,
en mí todo ese fuego se repite,
en mí nada se apaga ni se olvida,
mi amor se nutre de tu amor, amada,
y mientras vivas estará en tus brazos
sin salir de los míos.
Me gustas cuando me mirasMe gustas cuando me miras porque estas como un hombre enamorado
y aceptas lo que falto, y me quieres por lo que yo soy.
Todo lo que quieres contarme esta en los ojos azules mirandome
y en los labios que siempre forman una sonrisa cuando me ves.
Parece que tu alma hermosa hablame sin una sola palabra
cuando tus ojos hablan con mis ojos en el silencio.
Y se que los ojos hermosos y simpaticos estan enamorado tambien,
y que tu mirada me dice mas de tu corazon que una cancion on un poema puede decirme.
Me gustas cuando me miras y todo el mundo deja de moverse,
y somos los unicos que existen en todo el mundo.
Y estas mirandome como un caballero mirado su senorita con u gran amor
que solamente puede expresar con la miarada y unos besitos.
Solo quiero que el mometa tenga mas duracion,
que continues a mirarme en el silecio de la noche
mientras blanquea todo la luna llega en el cielo oscuro
con las estrellas que reflejan pasion en tus ojos azules.
Me gustas cuando me miras porque estas como un h
Written by KRaven42
Neruda's QuestionsWhy do I hate cities that smell
of women and urine?
Women are harpies,
Clicking down the pavement
In heels and lipstick.
You want to have it,
Want it all.
No, their empty eyes say.
Urine is the days
In your tiny apartment
On Washington Street.
You, and two other guys crammed together,
All out of a job.
Not enough to fill the freezer,
Let alone hire a plumber.
What ordered me
To tear down the walls of my pride?
My father's face,
After I told him he couldn't paint,
He wasn't an artist.
He was just a clumsy old fool
With too many dreams in his silly head.
His eyes went dead.
I crumbled, broke, fell.
I'm sorry, Dad.
It's not true.
Your art is you.
Who goes out to live for me
When I am sick?
Those I love,
My cat, my sister, my mother.
Cool cloths to burning skin,
Tanged orange juice sliding
Cleanly down inflamed throat.
My sister coming home
Written by IndigoSkyes
Ode To PabloJust one man
full of wonder, man.
With beauty in the
eye of the beholder.
boiling, rising, bubbling,
in your veins, man.
You begin to write
and all I want to do
is have a little taste of you.
Your soul carved in every stone.
Your heart in your throat
through all your poems.
You bring love into mine
you, tender man...
who loves not only one woman
but all things,
living and non living
on and under this earth.
Yeah, I know.
Food, wine and love.
Are they not one
and the same?
The spice of life.
The spice of love,
and what you bring
to us all;
the briny flavor,
the sugared tears
happy and sad.
Sex blatantly knocks on our door
and we feel the need
to let it in.
Shivers up the back
of my neck,
smell of lust,
the wet lips
the honey kiss.
You make me want to bite you.
Linda R. O'Connell © 2009
Written by gallindz
More on Pablo Nerudaby MARX77
A “Nerudean” posthumous episode… In 1994 director Michael Radford filmed the novel “Il Postino” (“The Postman”) in Italy. The romantic tale is about a young wannabe poet in 1950 who manages to get the job of delivering Pablo Neruda’s mail (the poet being exiled for his political activities at the time on a small island off the coast of Italy). The young man seeks to gather tips on becoming a real poet. Smitten by a beautiful young lady, the novice poet cribs sensual lines of love poetry from his new mentor Neruda to win over the subject of his desire. The actor who starred as the Postman and contributed to the writing of the screenplay, Massimo Troisi, put his scheduled heart surgery on hold to complete the film. On the day after filming was complete, Massimo died of a massive heart attack. Such is the tragic romantic passion, wrapped in barbed wire bracelets of personal anguish and political tumult, that captures the heart and enflames the soul when one is touched by the poetic magic of Pablo Neruda.
- He was only 18 years old when his first and most famous volume of poems was published, Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair. It was 1923 and the passionate eroticism that infused many of his poems was shocking to most critics, especially since the source was such a young man then studying at the University of Chile in Santiago.
- “Neruda” was a pseudonym he chose to shield himself from his father’s disapproval of his poetry.
- Neruda would become famous worldwide as a “poet of love,” yet his “other life” would be that of an adversary of the system who lived under police surveillance and official government condemnation. When communism was outlawed in Chile in 1948 he had to be hidden by friends (being an elected senator for the party) before escaping through midnight mountain passes to many years in exile abroad.
- He would return to Chile in his later years (after winning the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1971) and become a close adviser to socialist President Salvador Allende.
- When fascist forces overthrew Allende on 9/11/73, the aging Neruda was in the hospital. He died of heart failure two weeks after the coup.
- His bones were exhumed earlier this year by court order to determine whether or not he was, as rumored, poisoned by Pinochet’s henchmen. No definitive answer has yet been proferred by the forensics experts.
- Forty years after his death this poet continues to be a firebrand of controversy pitting the lovers of his intensely humanist poetry against those who consider him a wolf in sheep’s clothing fomenting rebellion against social order and authority.
Questions For the Reader
- Do your political beliefs or associations influence your work?
- Should artists try to remain relatively “pure” and apolitical – concentrating instead on their art alone? Or is political thought as much a component of an artist’s passion as love or pain?
- Has a poem, a song, or a text ever influenced you in your consideration of a political controversy?
- Are there artists whose art you really like, but whose politics or public comments really offend you? How do you reconcile this conflict? Is there an artist whose work you greatly enjoyed, but whom you have now “abandoned” because of something you found about their political or personal life?