This poem beautifully channels Neruda’s sensual spirit. The union of passion, earth, and language. The imagery feels both intimate and elemental, echoing the way Neruda made love and nature inseparable.

It’s a stirring tribute that captures his essence…beautifully penned.

This has so much passion in this. I agree with Romaj beautifully penned.

Damn!
Excellent! You had me at “flayed”. What a vivid, well placed word.

You turned the poem into something else with this, “and all the common words of my peasant’s pen.” Following the next verse, IF you didn’t brilliantly did this, it would have been just a strong sensual poem, but with how amazingly You brought a higher level with the last two line of verse one, then the gorgeous verse two, is what makes the poem very special to me, exploring and expressing a deeper connection. I believe Pablo would admire this🤍

It was/is my pleasure to “whisper” and a big Thank You to the Roman Goddess, daughter of Cupid and Psyche. It’s not often I get a comment from royalty. Not sure I am worthy, but it is appreciated muchly.

You are most welcome my friend🌸 and consider your poem sent, his soul is still out there, just call Him 😊

Yes, please post it. I would love to read what, how you see Neruda’s love sonnets.

You summed up life very neatly in this piece.
🙏

Thanks Peter.

Oh man it burst into flames. Walked three feet then it was over. Life is short

You never know when it’s your time.

“Blackbird (can’t) Fly” 🎵🎵

“Into the light of the dark black night”
black and blue – a wonderful color combo

A whole story told in such a short space. Very thought provoking.

Poetic oxygen is hanging by a fingernail in our world. But! There is hope. Well done, Willow.

Thought on this one Lady, maybe to much. We think it would had hit even harder if posted closer to Halloween

Extraordinarily compelling ink ma’am .. I was hooked from the off and enjoyed the ride write to the very opposite end and no kidding .. Write on my fine literary friend .. Neville

Powerfully penned, Willow. Excellent write my friend with precise imagery and wordplay. Felt this one! Appreciate you.

Damian

The way you combined nature and human in this piece is breathtaking. We should not be used as collateral damage for the error of polluting the air. That is one way I took this piece.
Then the ones that are cast aside unnoticed.. That is sad, but I believe that there is someone noticing them. They may not know what to do to bring more light in their black hole.
Just thoughts I got from your piece.

the same as for all of us – some care
thank you Willow

Wow. This is a cigarette and a shot write. It is almost bitter, almost defeatist. Yet it also feels like you’re scoffing at the processes too. You need a seashell necklace while writing like this. Reminding you of what’s salty out there.

Willow…you had me from the first line and held me there until the last.
Message delivered and your mission accomplished.
The universe never pauses.Everything rises and ceases,nothing permanent….thank God.Imagine a permanent Trump.

This is dark with a lot of reality in it too. You nailed it with your silent hammers.
What ever the subject matter your writing is it’s articulate and thought provoking.

Brilliant use of languge and great imagery.

damn…incredible write.

The world is all too willing to leave the hurt ones behind. Great ink friend.

We see each other. We hear each other. We fall together. We rise together. Thank you for seeing, Volupta

This is like a dystopian future. Great ending. 🙂

Hoi hoi
What a write!
And the longer I read, the thinner the glass will become.
Can you see who is giving the thumb up?
I’ve tried, but I can’t give you more than one!

unsure which side of the glass
I belong to
The cherry on the cake!
Keep them coming please.

Kind regards, Gus

We humans are complex and complicated at the same time. Is there glass or any kind of barrier that separates our complexity?? I’m not sure there is. I think the complication comes in when we do not understand these complexities, understand that we are capable of anything and everything. That we humans, because we learn and are conscious, can change the world and ourselves, become neither beauty nor monster, just human(e). These are the thoughts I had as I read your poem RomaJ. I liked how the glass disappears and leave you wondering, “who am I” and perhaps also “who do I want to be”.

Amazing writing RomaJ.
-Curt

Powerfully penned, Roma. Excellent wordplay and the imagery made me feel like a passenger. Outstanding work. Appreciate you.

Damian

What a great idea to write about. Some writers “see”. You do. The way you led the reader along the corridor of scrutiny(?)
and put them almost as a prisoner forced to watch it play out. Transfixed.
Great write and thoroughly thought provoking.

There is something of magic realism inherent in your verses. A dripping ambiguity & multi-layered which leaves the reader curious. Glass is such a useful metaphor and you give full justice to the word.

This in a way reminds me of a traveling circus. How we go see the bearded woman or the unusually tall man.
Different walks of life being set out to the public to entertain each night. They’re not monsters but maybe spectacles – and still we the public go seek them out because we are drawn to the unusual. Then we go home and they leave to a different town.

Maybe a few stay tired of the circus life and maybe a few decide to join the circus looking for something unusual.
How we are all interchangeable depending on the view.

Sorry if I’m rambling!
I loved the write:)

The imagery and story telling here are done to perfection. The passengers view the abject poverty outside from their comfortable train. Perhaps to them it just looks like more tv. Like seeing the hungry people of the world on their tv without ever having to interact or see them in person. But maybe the glass grows thinner when the reality brings stronger emotions even empathy. Truly a great poem you have penned here. You have mastered your craft. And I read in awe of your gift. I too had such an experience on a train long ago. I was on the Crescent City train headed from New Orleans to Boston. As we passed through the shacks in the slums of Birmingham, Alabama I heard a two man talking and one said, “You know America really is a dilapidated country” or something like that. It was an eye opener for me.

John