Pythian Games

put on your track shoes and write the miles

Posts Tagged ‘Neruda

Pablo Neruda – Ode to Tomatoes

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Maybe this summertime poem will inspire someone else to write about a summer time food – if not, just enjoy Pablo’s mastery! Kerry


 The street
filled with tomatoes,
light is
its juice
through the streets.
In December,
the tomato
the kitchen,
it enters at lunchtime,
its ease
on countertops,
among glasses,
butter dishes,
blue saltcellars.
It sheds
its own light,
benign majesty.
Unfortunately, we must
murder it:
the knife
into living flesh,
a cool
populates the salads
of Chile,
happily, it is wed
to the clear onion,
and to celebrate the union
child of the olive,
onto its halved hemispheres,
its fragrance,
salt, its magnetism;
it is the wedding
of the day,
its flag,
bubble vigorously,
the aroma
of the roast
at the door,
it’s time!
come on!
and, on
the table, at the midpoint
of summer,
the tomato,
star of earth, recurrent
and fertile
its convolutions,
its canals,
its remarkable amplitude
and abundance,
no pit,
no husk,
no leaves or thorns,
the tomato offers
its gift
of fiery color
and cool completeness.

Ode To Tomatoes

Written by kvwordsmith

June 30, 2009 at 8:41 pm

Posted in A Poem a Day

Tagged with , ,

The One that Got Away

with 9 comments

(inspired by the Pablo Neruda “I write the first faint line…” prompt)

I write the first faint line…

In sand, in water, in dust,

But more often,

In the clouds,

Along the mile markers,

While I am driving along.

It’s then I have my best thoughts –

When I can’t stop and write them down.


The ideas sneak up behind me,

Attack metaphors,

That pounce upon me

While I am in the shower,

Again, no pen near by,

No paper on which to write.


I used to mourn each lost gem.

Nowadays I tell myself

I am just a good sportswoman

Practicing “catch and release” –

The ideas will come back to me someday,

When I have my waders on,

My line is taut,

My hook is sharp,

My net is ready,

And the thoughts are

Much bigger and better…


© Kerry Vincent

Written by kvwordsmith

May 20, 2008 at 7:04 pm

Our Love Story (Neruda-inspired)

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XVII (I do not love you…) by Pablo Neruda

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I do not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.



Our Love Story


I do not love you as others love their lovers.

We are like no other lovers. 

None like us ever existed before or ever will exist again.

We brought our pain and dumped it at each other’s feet.

I told you, “You ought to run – I’m damaged goods.”

You said no one else liked you…
when you were a kid, you thought even your dog hated you.

It was the saddest thing I ever heard.


Fourteen years have passed and here we are,

Still together, although the couple who introduced us

Has divorced, remarried, moved out of state.

We never had a storybook romance –

(Unless you like “Tales of the Weird”).

I go to work, you manage the house,

We both go to therapy,

We take turns making the “Cook-n-serve” butterscotch pudding
we both enjoy.

You are transgendered and I am an abuse survivor –

We don’t fit anywhere else in the world

But in each others’ arms.


But every day we come home to each other,

Kiss each other good-night,

Say “I love you”.

That’s our love story.

It is enough.

We are both happy –

something we never knew before.



By Kerry, for Leni © 2008

Written by kvwordsmith

May 16, 2008 at 4:24 pm