(or I’M NOT BEING RUDE, I’M READING NERUDA)
I find a voice in my poet of choice,
I am conversing with Neruda.
The dude had a style, and while
I admire him greatly,
lately I find much of him in me.
I am no Neruda, no poetic Buddha,
but Pablo’s odes and sonnets are honest
presentations (never lost in translation).
I have become a student of him,
on a whim and not by surprise,
this guy’s poems move me.
It behooves me to find bits
and pieces of Pablo to blow
my mind, to remind me that poetry
has a purpose to communicate,
to elated, sometimes sedate
and placate a burdened heart.
From my start I have been ensconced
in this need to read Neruda.
Please, don’t find me rude.
(C) Walter J. Wojtanik