Writing Unleashed with Laura M. Harkins

Here is another poem from Pablo Neruda. I carried this one around in my pocket on April 14th for Poem in Your Pocket Day to celebrate National Poetry Month. Enjoy! The Morning is Full By Pablo Neruda The morning is full of storm in the heart of summer. The clouds travel like white handkerchiefs of good-by, the wind, traveling, waving them in its hands. The numberless heart of the wind beating above our loving silence. Orchestral and divine, resounding among the trees like a language full of wars and songs. Wind that bears off the dead leaves with a quick raid and deflects the pulsing arrows of the birds. Wind that topples her in a wave without spray and substance without weight, leaning fires. Her mass of kisses breaks and sinks, assailed in the door of the summer's wind.

Body of A Woman Body of a woman, white hills, white thighs, you look like a world, lying in surrender. My rough peasant's body digs in you  and makes the son leap from the depth of the earth. I was alone like a tunnel.  The birds fled from me, and night swamped me with its crushing invasion. To survive myself I forged you like a weapon, like an arrow in my bow, a stone in my sling. But the hour of vengeance falls, and I love you. Body of skin, of moss, of eager and firm milk. Oh the goblets of the breast! Oh the eyes of absence! Oh the roses of the pubis! Oh your voice, slow and sad! Body of my woman, I will persist in your grace. My thirst, my boundless desire, my shifting road!  Dark river-beds where the eternal thirst flows and weariness follows, and the infinite ache.