A Toad's Favo(u)rite ~ When words touched me

Hello everyone ~     

As some of you know, I am very new to writing poetry (less than 3 years).  Growing up, I was more drawn to reading short stories & non-fiction books.  I probably read the entire collection of Nancy Drew and Agatha Christie's mystery books, then moved to Robert Ludlum's books and historical romance books in our school's library.   

I was however drawn to love poems and would pen romantic words now & then when I was inspired.  In the midst of managing a full family nest & work in the insurance field, I didn't think about poetry until I discovered that my second son was into writing contemporary street poetry and blogging about it. He encouraged me to explore the creative side of me and the rest is history.

One of my favorite writers and the inspiration for some of my love poems is Chilean poet Pablo Neruda (1904-1973). I am drawn to his words though I am aware that I have not yet read his best work as some of them are written in his native language.  (I now regret wasting 4 years of Spanish classes in my high school years.)   Among his many passionate words, I adore this translated poem entitled In You The Earth:    

Little

rose,
roselet,
at times,
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,
but
suddenly
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.

Here is another beautiful reading by Ralph Fiennes - Ode to the Sea:

My all-time favorite though is this :       

And it was at that age ... Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don't know how or when,
no they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.

I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names,
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire,
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating plantations,
shadow perforated,
riddled
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.

And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke loose on the wind. 

Whenever I read it, I always see something new in his words and his lines just lift me to a place I can't describe.   Thank you for reading this post and wishing you all Happy Tuesday. 

Grace (aka Heaven)