Pablo Neruda

neruda

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Full woman, fleshly apple, hot moon,
thick smell of seaweed, crushed mud and light,
what obscure brilliance opens between your columns?
What ancient night does a man touch with his senses?
Loving is a journey with water and with stars,
with smothered air and abrupt storms of flour:
loving is a clash of lightning-bolts
and two bodies defeated by a single drop of honey.
Kiss by kiss I move across your small infinity,
your borders, your rivers, your tiny villages,
and the genital fire transformed into delight
runs through the narrow pathways of the blood
until it plunges down, like a dark carnation,
until it is and is no more than a flash in the night.

Sonnet XII by Pablo Neruda

“TRACKS” by Ted Kooser

“a valentine for whatshername” by Herbert T. Schmidt, Jr.

i stopped writing poems
because i dried up inside
because i gave myself away
i couldn’t feel/think/be
a poem
while the sun sank into an indifferent sea
this may not be homeric
what i scribble to you
or pindaric
or shakespearean
or petrarchian
but the sun blazes again with fire
and rises brilliantly to the awakening day
of breath
of souls
of life
a small boy composes a valentine for a girl with bright eyes
he works with little craft
only his heart guides him
as he writes
roses are red…

Herbert T. Schmidt, Jr.

L. K. Thayer’s Foto Fetish

© 2011

“Shelf Life Of A Valentine” by M. C. Lubow

 

 

What is the shelf life of a valentine second wife?
I’m about to find out after 24 years of my life.
Will I be sufficiently reserved, sufficiently preserved,
sufficiently assured
to go back into the super market
for the salad bar, of round number three?

What is the shelf life of a valentine first wife?
After 25 years of joy and strife,
I know the answer to that one.
With Numero Uno, I had three blue eyed sons.

Where I live, the state I live in,
ten, just ten, only ten years marks a long marriage.
It’s the law, baby…

Well, then, Mom & Dad in the sky with the glimmer
of the big and little dipper
and with Orion’s sparkling starry belt,
no need to cry that  your first born baby is less than.
Not a failure, or two time loser, after all.
Should I wear the diamond as proof
of your little girl’s success? Am I a mess…no or yes?

My story may be boring…
But how can I be labeled failure
when I have two, yes two, count that:
two 20 year marriages
to draw from
with my whimsical  writer’s wand?

Mom, Dad, toss me two gold stars
for my good behavior chart
and a Valentine prayer.
Let’s pray that numero tres will be the charm.
I’ll  no longer be candy on El Segundo’s arm.

M. C. Lubow

L. K. Thayer’s Foto Fetish

© 2011