This week I would like to shift attention from today's contemporary poets, to the greats of the past. This week's poet of the week is Pablo Neruda. I recently started reading more of Neruda's work since it was suggested by my professor. I instantly fell in love with his work. His imagery is some of the most beautiful I have ever seen. He can go into sooo much detail, it's mind blowing. One of the poems my professor gave me by Neruda is "Toward an Impure Poem." My favorite line is "Let that be the poetry we search for." He is the piece for your enjoyment. You can view some of his other work on poemhunter.com.
Toward An Impure Poetry
by Pablo Neruda
It is good, at certain hours of the day and night, to look closely at the world of objects at rest. Wheels that have crossed long, dusty distances with their mineral and vegetable burdens, sacks from the coal bins, barrels, and baskets, handles and hafts for the carpenter's tool chest. From them flow the contacts of man with the earth, like a text for all troubled lyricists. The used surfaces of things, the wear that the hands give to things, the air, tragic at times, pathetic at others, of such things---all lend a curious attactiveness to the reality of the world that should not be underprized.
In them one sees the confused impurity of the human condition, the massing of things, the use and disuse of substance, footprints and fingerprints, the abiding presence of the human engulfing all artifacts, inside and out.
Let that be the poetry we search for: worn with the hand's obligations, as by acids, steeped in sweat and in smoke, smelling of the lilies and urine, spattered diversely by the trades that we live by, inside the law or beyond it.
A poetry impure as the clothing we wear, or our bodies, soup-stained, soiled with our shameful behavior, our wrinkles and vigils and dreams, observations and prophecies, declarations of loathing and love, idylls and beasts, the shocks of encounter, political loyalties, denials and doubts, affirmations and taxes.
The holy canons of madrigal, the mandates of touch, smell, taste, sight, hearing, the passion for justice, sexual desire, the sea sounding---willfully rejecting and accepting nothing: the deep penetraion of things in the transports of love, a consummate poetry soiled by the pigeon's claw, ice-marked and tooh-marked, bitten delicately with our sweatdrops and usage, perhaps. Till the instrument so restlessly played yields us the comfort of its surfaces, and the woods show the knottiest suavities shaped by the pride of the tool. Blossom and water and wheat kernel share one precious consistency: the sumptuous appeal of the tactile.
Let no one forget them. Melancholy, old mawkishness impure and unflawed, fruits of a fabulous species lost to the memory, cast away in a frenzy's abandonment---moonlight, the swan in the gathering darkness, all hackneyed endearments: surely that is the poet's concern, essential and absolute.
Those who shun the "bad taste" of things will fall flat on the ice.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
War Journal
So I decided to write my poem for this week's class about my favorite comic book character, The Punisher. I decided to take the scene from Civil War where Captain America is beating down the Punisher for shooting two super criminals who offer their help to the resistance. The poem is his thoughts during the beating and I hope I captured his character well. Let me know what you think and enjoy!
War Journal
Blood gushing from face
As fist makes contact
Adds a new scar
Scars build character
Good, stay sunny
Should be over soon
Face meets foot
Then knee
Blood dances through air
To lyrics of
He's insane
An animal
A psychopath
Don't Understand
These thieves and murderers
Vermin of the Earth
Deserve nothing less
Than the Hell I send them to
They think I'm crazy
Waging this one man war
But the true pyschos
Stole everything from me
And where were they
When it happened?
Off playing hero
Saving the world
But what about
Saving people from themselves?
Right under their noses
The pain, the suffering
Do they truly save anyone?
No, they can't truly save anyone
To busy being high and mighty
Fighting to see who is better
While the rest of us drown
They let you drown
Drop to the floor
Blood seeps down into my soul
It's cold
Know your watching me
And I'm sorry
Maybe this is all
So I can get to you again
There is no other road for me now
No redemption in the end
Pray this is all
So I can get to you again
War Journal
Blood gushing from face
As fist makes contact
Adds a new scar
Scars build character
Good, stay sunny
Should be over soon
Face meets foot
Then knee
Blood dances through air
To lyrics of
He's insane
An animal
A psychopath
Don't Understand
These thieves and murderers
Vermin of the Earth
Deserve nothing less
Than the Hell I send them to
They think I'm crazy
Waging this one man war
But the true pyschos
Stole everything from me
And where were they
When it happened?
Off playing hero
Saving the world
But what about
Saving people from themselves?
Right under their noses
The pain, the suffering
Do they truly save anyone?
No, they can't truly save anyone
To busy being high and mighty
Fighting to see who is better
While the rest of us drown
They let you drown
Drop to the floor
Blood seeps down into my soul
It's cold
Know your watching me
And I'm sorry
Maybe this is all
So I can get to you again
There is no other road for me now
No redemption in the end
Pray this is all
So I can get to you again
Prose Poem
This is a prose poem I had to write for my class last week. It's an experience I've had that I just changed and put into a dream setting. The song I reference is "I Want To Now Your Plans" by Say Anything. Hope you enjoy!
She enters the lush Eden of my subconscious, this Eve to my Adam. She lies next to me among the bed of tall grass my mind so graciously prepared. Soft hands begin to gently rub the back of my neck. I can feel goosebumps race up my body, hairs standing on end. I sink my hands into fertile soil then grip tightly, trying to keep composer. She leans in closer to me, her breathe invades my lungs. I’m lightheaded, high off her essences as I try to keep my legs from squirming like a five year old. But I begin to fall into the never ending abyss of her eyes. Taking me to places that make this garden paradise I’ve created look like the tiny flower bed my mother tends to. I can feel the numbness in my limbs, but I somehow force my arm up as my hand begins to explore the delicate hills of her back. Music begins to play in the distance…
Your what keeps me believing
The worlds not gone dead
My hand grows the balls my subconscious self seems to lack as it pulls her closer, her body melding into mine. My lips seem to grow them next as they slowly crash themselves into hers. I try very hard not to faint. Try to keep my soul packed tightly into my body so it doesn’t burst out leaving me dead because let us be honest that would be awkward. I press her even tighter up against me as if afraid of never feeling warmth again. I pray it doesn’t end, pray I don’t wake up. Music continues to play in the distance…
Strength in my bones
Put the words in my head
It starts to rain in paradise as she stops kissing me. She breaks our tight embrace and looks at me with sadness in her eyes that could break the heart of a god. She tells me she can’t stay. Tells me that she has feelings for me, but can’t stay and she doesn’t want to hurt me. I go to respond, to ask her why, but my head nods in understanding like it’s no big deal. I try to force myself to speak, yet nothing comes out. I’m frantic, my body is betraying me the bastard that it is and I look to the heavens with pleading eyes. I’m begging for the music to play louder, but getting nothing in response. She tells me that she won’t be around anymore, that she may be back in a few months, but can’t promise anything. Says she is sorry but she doesn’t know where she’ll be in the future. My head still nods, but my mind screams “Wait! We can make it work. We may be at different points in life, but we can make it work.” The sadness in her eyes is driving me to the brink of insanity. She starts to walk away as my Eden becomes ablaze, her every step reducing in to ashes. I look again to heaven, with praying eyes asking for whatever muse to please sing to her, but still nothing. She disappears from my subconscious as I sit in a paradise lost. I weep to myself as music continues again…
When it pours out to paper
It’s all for you
Cause that’s what you do
She enters the lush Eden of my subconscious, this Eve to my Adam. She lies next to me among the bed of tall grass my mind so graciously prepared. Soft hands begin to gently rub the back of my neck. I can feel goosebumps race up my body, hairs standing on end. I sink my hands into fertile soil then grip tightly, trying to keep composer. She leans in closer to me, her breathe invades my lungs. I’m lightheaded, high off her essences as I try to keep my legs from squirming like a five year old. But I begin to fall into the never ending abyss of her eyes. Taking me to places that make this garden paradise I’ve created look like the tiny flower bed my mother tends to. I can feel the numbness in my limbs, but I somehow force my arm up as my hand begins to explore the delicate hills of her back. Music begins to play in the distance…
Your what keeps me believing
The worlds not gone dead
My hand grows the balls my subconscious self seems to lack as it pulls her closer, her body melding into mine. My lips seem to grow them next as they slowly crash themselves into hers. I try very hard not to faint. Try to keep my soul packed tightly into my body so it doesn’t burst out leaving me dead because let us be honest that would be awkward. I press her even tighter up against me as if afraid of never feeling warmth again. I pray it doesn’t end, pray I don’t wake up. Music continues to play in the distance…
Strength in my bones
Put the words in my head
It starts to rain in paradise as she stops kissing me. She breaks our tight embrace and looks at me with sadness in her eyes that could break the heart of a god. She tells me she can’t stay. Tells me that she has feelings for me, but can’t stay and she doesn’t want to hurt me. I go to respond, to ask her why, but my head nods in understanding like it’s no big deal. I try to force myself to speak, yet nothing comes out. I’m frantic, my body is betraying me the bastard that it is and I look to the heavens with pleading eyes. I’m begging for the music to play louder, but getting nothing in response. She tells me that she won’t be around anymore, that she may be back in a few months, but can’t promise anything. Says she is sorry but she doesn’t know where she’ll be in the future. My head still nods, but my mind screams “Wait! We can make it work. We may be at different points in life, but we can make it work.” The sadness in her eyes is driving me to the brink of insanity. She starts to walk away as my Eden becomes ablaze, her every step reducing in to ashes. I look again to heaven, with praying eyes asking for whatever muse to please sing to her, but still nothing. She disappears from my subconscious as I sit in a paradise lost. I weep to myself as music continues again…
When it pours out to paper
It’s all for you
Cause that’s what you do
Friday, April 2, 2010
Love Poems Continued
So this is another poem to expand upon my love poems vol. 1 that I posted back in August. Hope you enjoy!
Understand
Understand
That the words
I write on this page
Come from a sane mind
Because I don’t think
That just because I may
Dream
Day dream
Or otherwise
Think of you constantly
Should be grounds
For insanity
Understand
That as I lie
In bed
Waiting for sleep
To come
I think of you
And wonder
Why you’re not
Lying here next
To me
Because it’s just
So cold being
All alone
Understand
That I think
Your one of the
Most beautiful
Girls I’ve ever seen
And I would
Tell you that everyday
Through my best verses
And trademark them
With a passionate kiss
Understand
That just being
Near you makes me
Happy
Everything from
Your smile
To the sound
Of your voice
Makes me
Feel alive
Understand
That I really
Don’t know
What to do with
Myself when your
Not there
And
I guess what
I’m trying to say
Is that I want you
To understand
That I care
So much
About you
That I just wish
That you were here
With me
And to understand
How I feel about you
Just want you
To Understand
Understand
Understand
That the words
I write on this page
Come from a sane mind
Because I don’t think
That just because I may
Dream
Day dream
Or otherwise
Think of you constantly
Should be grounds
For insanity
Understand
That as I lie
In bed
Waiting for sleep
To come
I think of you
And wonder
Why you’re not
Lying here next
To me
Because it’s just
So cold being
All alone
Understand
That I think
Your one of the
Most beautiful
Girls I’ve ever seen
And I would
Tell you that everyday
Through my best verses
And trademark them
With a passionate kiss
Understand
That just being
Near you makes me
Happy
Everything from
Your smile
To the sound
Of your voice
Makes me
Feel alive
Understand
That I really
Don’t know
What to do with
Myself when your
Not there
And
I guess what
I’m trying to say
Is that I want you
To understand
That I care
So much
About you
That I just wish
That you were here
With me
And to understand
How I feel about you
Just want you
To Understand
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Seeds Of The Poet-Tree Work
This is just some of the stuff I have written for the poetry/performance art group that I am in at school. The first one is just about crushes and being a fly on the wall. The other is about players who think they're cool for screwing around with women. Basically the type of person I'm not, but anyway hope you enjoy.
“Fly”
A fly on your wall
My compound eyes
Capturing the thousands of things
That make you beautiful to me
Compacting them
Into one perfect image
That is you
And as I
Capture and compact
These images
My wings begin to flutter
Rapidly into a song
That I sing for you
In loud buzzes
Music from my heart
But yet I only seem
To take in the good side
Of you
And I fail to realize
That you misinterpret
My songs for only
Mere noise
And I realize this
Only as your swatter
Quickly descends
Upon me
And as I lie
On your wall
No longer a fly
More of a crippled mass
I start to see
All the things
I should have seen
In you
And as my eyes
Go blind I realize
That these crushes
Like a fly’s life
Are short lived
And they only
Leave you a mess
“Player”
“I don’t see her
As much” he says
“Not enough time”
He tells her
“But I’m glad you’re here”
The bait to his lure
Cool enchanting liquid
Making a feeling pure
By patching together
False emotions
“Never stop thinking of you, never”
Hollow words
Breathe life into an eager heart
Hands begin to touch bodies, words slur
Love potion goes down
Its current pulling
Together lips, this thief is wearing a prince’s crown
As bodies begin to dance
Upon a comforter lined dance floor
Elixir trances
As the world fades to black
And she wakes up realizing
He’s not coming back
“Fly”
A fly on your wall
My compound eyes
Capturing the thousands of things
That make you beautiful to me
Compacting them
Into one perfect image
That is you
And as I
Capture and compact
These images
My wings begin to flutter
Rapidly into a song
That I sing for you
In loud buzzes
Music from my heart
But yet I only seem
To take in the good side
Of you
And I fail to realize
That you misinterpret
My songs for only
Mere noise
And I realize this
Only as your swatter
Quickly descends
Upon me
And as I lie
On your wall
No longer a fly
More of a crippled mass
I start to see
All the things
I should have seen
In you
And as my eyes
Go blind I realize
That these crushes
Like a fly’s life
Are short lived
And they only
Leave you a mess
“Player”
“I don’t see her
As much” he says
“Not enough time”
He tells her
“But I’m glad you’re here”
The bait to his lure
Cool enchanting liquid
Making a feeling pure
By patching together
False emotions
“Never stop thinking of you, never”
Hollow words
Breathe life into an eager heart
Hands begin to touch bodies, words slur
Love potion goes down
Its current pulling
Together lips, this thief is wearing a prince’s crown
As bodies begin to dance
Upon a comforter lined dance floor
Elixir trances
As the world fades to black
And she wakes up realizing
He’s not coming back
Video Bar
So for some reason the video bar isn't showing the videos of my "poet of the week" and instead is showing some kid from Australia playing guitar. No idea way sooo here is the link to Ishle Park's videos:
http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=ishle+yi+park&search_type=&aq=0
http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=ishle+yi+park&search_type=&aq=0
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Comments
To people who stumble upon this blog and those who are currently following it:
PLEASE COMMENT ON STUFF!!!!!
The lack of feedback on my work and the poets I present has been making me very sad/depressed as of late. I want to grow as a writer, but without any criticism/feedback I will never truly grow. I'll just assume everything I write is absolute the most amazing thing ever to be written. It's up to YOU people of the world, to save me from my egotistical/narcissistic views of my own work. So PLEASE comment! Tell me you like these poems or tell me you think these poems are shit. Tell me what you like or don't like. I don't care what just say anything please. So if you are following my blog or just happen to stumble upon this page and you read some of my work, please give me some feedback. I don't think a little bit of feedback is too much to ask for right? You can even comment on this post! Tell me I'm a comment seeking whore, I don't care! As you comment I'll be sure to respond, so that we can start having some sweet conversations on the blog. Also, if you want to show me some of your OWN work, I would love to see it, read it, talk about, make love to it, whatever. So please DO NOT HESITATE to comment on any post on this blog!
With Love,
Michael Malpiedi
PLEASE COMMENT ON STUFF!!!!!
The lack of feedback on my work and the poets I present has been making me very sad/depressed as of late. I want to grow as a writer, but without any criticism/feedback I will never truly grow. I'll just assume everything I write is absolute the most amazing thing ever to be written. It's up to YOU people of the world, to save me from my egotistical/narcissistic views of my own work. So PLEASE comment! Tell me you like these poems or tell me you think these poems are shit. Tell me what you like or don't like. I don't care what just say anything please. So if you are following my blog or just happen to stumble upon this page and you read some of my work, please give me some feedback. I don't think a little bit of feedback is too much to ask for right? You can even comment on this post! Tell me I'm a comment seeking whore, I don't care! As you comment I'll be sure to respond, so that we can start having some sweet conversations on the blog. Also, if you want to show me some of your OWN work, I would love to see it, read it, talk about, make love to it, whatever. So please DO NOT HESITATE to comment on any post on this blog!
With Love,
Michael Malpiedi
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