Tonight I Can Write (The Saddest Lines) by Pablo Neruda

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, ‘The night is starry and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.’

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is starry and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another’s. She will be another’s. As she was before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that’s certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.

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Sharing this poem from Chilean poet Pablo Neruda, who died on this day in 1973. Neruda is known for writing pieces that are tender and melancholic, explicit and romantic, surreal and political. While there are controversies that surround this man, he is unquestionably one of the best literary gifts the world has ever had.

There is no easy way to get to you, is it?

And yet again I let you slip between the gaps of my fingers. I always pride myself for having words as my sword and my shield but you — you always manage to disarm me. My lips are forged into a pair of frustration and denial; my tongue tied like a knot.

“I’m okay, I don’t care”, chants the unsung hero in my sleep. Another night of deep sighs. Another night of uttering the words I will never get to say. There is no easy way to get to you, is it? I was always a step behind your smile. Too close but not close enough. Now I’m a step behind the aisle. And you… you will always be the wind I fail to catch with these hands.

Monday Musings: Something beautiful and cruel

The next time you question the existence of love, look into an old photograph. See how love is written from that fading black and white. Travel back in time when love was patient and slow. When you don’t need technology to keep up real time. Listen to an old song. Notice the way your eyes smile or how your heart beats with the music. A once inaudible sound now carries snippets of laughter and tears.

Do you still not see?

Love may have left the front door shut but some fragments will forever remain. Memories. These are our only evidence that something beautiful and cruel like love exists.

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I am 99.9% done with re-categorizing my old posts and as I was checking my unpublished tab, I realize that there are still too many scattered thoughts that need my attention.

This one is from 2018 that I wrote for A to Z challenge. For some reason, I dropped the idea (hehe). I’m sharing it now since I have two girlfriends who currently might relate.

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Beginnings

“Was I?”

I look at him hoping to see mischief in those Houdini eyes. Perhaps ten years have blurred my memory. It wasn’t I who followed a stranger to that bookstore along Rue de la Bûcherie. What was it called? Ah, Shakespeare and Company.

I did not go out of my way pretending to eye those weather-beaten shelves, fingering book spines, thinking of a way to start a conversation.

“James Joyce lies buried in the cellar” was your desperate did-you-know. I can’t believe how I fell for that—

How I fell for you.

Paris is indeed full of exotic swindlers.

Word Count: 100

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Written for Friday Fictioneers, a weekly writing challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields where a photo is used as a prompt for a hundred-word piece of fiction. The photo prompt this week is a courtesy of C.E. Ayr.

It has been a while since I’ve written for Friday Fictioneers and I am happy to be back this week. This one is inspired by Ali’s micro story titled Endings. As I have said (am I’m sure I’m not the only one), it’s rare to see him write about love and heartbreak. My hopeless romantic muse got thrilled and so here’s a prequel to his tale.. 😉

Head over here to join the prompt!

 

Pa-bukid si Maria

I was feeling sad yesterday when I found that the concert tickets for December Avenue were sold out. Their music has always been my go-to playlist and I have long wanted to see this local band perform upfront. But time is not on my side, it seems. *cries*

Anyway, as I was nursing a broken heart, I received an email announcing that my entry for AkongSugbo’s photo essay contest won the runner up. One word: unbelievable! Despite my hesitations, I joined the contest last November just for the fun of it. I have always been a hopeless romantic and my muse was nudging me to write something at that time. What a surprise!

And because I’m feeling happy (still a little sad about the concert), I am sharing this entry with you. 🙂 P.S. It was written in our local dialect, Bisaya. I translated it to English but I find it weird. Haha. My apologies.

Here goes something…

One Sigh At A Time

One Sigh At A Time

I loosen my grip
Of your memories
One sigh at a time—

Join the crowd
To unhear the sound
Of your voice
Watch the city lights
To unsee the colors
Of your eyes

One sigh at a time
One step forward
To being free

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In response to dVerse’s Quadrille #40: Free hosted by De with her piece, When Towes Fall. Image source: Pinterest

Head over here to join the fun!

 

The Lies Of A Fool

The Lies Of A Fool

Four days. It’s the fourth day since you left yet the flowers are still in full bloom. They bask under the sunrays with the colors of whites, greens, and purples. A madman would drink opium down to the last drop after a heartbreak and abdicate the lust for life. But not me. I only needed lies. Lies, you see, lessen the pangs of sadness. I will live with lies if it means climbing the stars with you. I will trick myself with a vague truth if only to get back to you. Back to where we started. A neolithic era of planting love with polished stones. And if, one day, you suddenly reappear, I will thank lies for being my nepenthe. The flowers will never perish and so will this fool.

© 2017 Maria. All Rights Reserved.

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In response to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Wordle #164 hosted by Yves and Sunday Writing Prompt: Fine Dining Kitchen Tricks hosted by Pat of Scribbler’s Dipstick.

I managed to jump into blogosphere (after another hiatus) for a quick peak but when I saw Pat’s storyboard, I couldn’t help but write. Argh! Who could resist Bukowski?! ❤
Anyway here’s my take combining the two prompts. Though I’m not sure this has something to do with fine dining kitchen tricks. Hehe. Will be reading your posts in jiff!

Head over here to join the fun:

Mockery

Mockery

I stand above the building of what seems like the edge of the world. The wind blows a soft hum as my eyes make love to moon. “Are you listening?”, my heart asks. Beneath me is a clutter of city lights— opaque and blurred. I pull for a stick of cigar but a crumpled paper falls out of my pocket instead. Ah, love breaks my bones but here I am laughing with cupid’s cabal. “Are you listening?”, this time it’s my voice. The moon is in absolute silence. An utter quiet that precedes a crackling mirth.

© 2017 Maria. All Rights Reserved.

Image Source: Pinterest

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In response to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Wordle #162 and Sunday Writing Prompt: Love Flowers hosted by Pat of Scribbler’s Dipstick.

This one is inspired by Bukowski’s quote: “Love breaks my bones and I laugh.”

Head over here to join the fun:

I Will Look For You

I Will Look For You

I will look for you in beautiful lines of every page I read
In poignant lyrics of every song I listen to, I will look for you
In the tears and joys of an actor in a movie that we may have watched together
I will look for you in gentle melodies of a playing beautiful piece—taking away my fears, like rolling waves, from the shores of your love
Love, I will look for you

I will look for you in every shining star in the sky
In the darkness of a moonlit night
In the touch of the squalling winds
And if I ever fall asleep amidst the crickets’ hymn, I will still look for you
I will look for you in my dreams
I will gamble and play until you’re found
But if a brand new day starts and
As I wake, rise, and realize
That you are not here, I will look for you again.

As a part of my 2016 list of desires, I expressed my want to explore and try our local poetry, to eventually write poems in our local dialect (Tagalog or Bisaya) and share it in this blog. I have written only a few as it turned out, writing in my language was quite a challenge. Sigh.

The poem above is a translation of the Tagalog spoken word I wrote entitled, Hahanapin Kita. I am sharing this for my dear reluctant poet friend, Chuck. Have a great weekend! ☀️😊