Thursday, July 27, 2006

The Nature of Love

Love Sonnet XI

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue."


I was watching The English Patient for the hundreth thousandth time. Passion and love like that.... I want it. But are those ever real? Do we just delude ourselves? Is it fleeting? But then I think... it has to be real, for poetry like this to exist. People must have felt this way. But will I be one of the lucky ones? Or will I die in mediocrity? How many of us are 'epic' after all? God, I want to crave like that. I want to experience feeling like your whole life depends on that one person. It terrifies me. But it also exhilarates me. Neruda is a genius. I get melancholy every time I read that poem. It makes me hurt.

3 comments:

mitasho said...

oh dear *swoon*... I saw shakespeare in love this evening and ...joseph fiennes' burning eyes..but are they 'real'?

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