Showing posts with label Pablo Naruda. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pablo Naruda. Show all posts

Friday, March 18, 2011

Poetry Friday: The Dreamer

"I am Poetry" by Pam Munoz Ryan

I am poetry,
waiting to seize the poet.
I ask the questions
for which all answers
exist.
I choose no one.
I choose every one.
Come closer...
...if you dare.

I am poetry,
lurking in dappled shadow.
I am the confusion
of root
and gnarled branch.
I am the symmetry
of insect,
leaf,
and a bird's outstretched wings.

I am poetry,
prowling the blue,
tempting my prey
with fish, shell, and sky.
From beneath the eyelids
of the deep, I seek
the unsuspecting heart.
Look.
Look at me.

I am poetry,
surrounding the dreamer.
Ever present,
I capture the spirit,
enslave
the reluctant pen,
and become
the breath
on the writer's only road.

The Dreamer (Ala Notable Children's Books. Older Readers)This the poem that travels throughout The Dreamer by Pam Munoz Ryan and illustrated by Peter Sis.

The Dreamer tells the story of Pablo Naruda's childhood, when we was Neftali, the middle child, weak and prone to day dreaming. His father is a harsh man, determined that his sons do the family proud and go into medicine or business. He makes Neftali's older brother stop studying music. He often publicly humiliates Neftali, hoping to turn him into a stronger "more normal" boy. Neftali finds support in his stepmother and his uncle, the publisher of a controversial newspaper.

Overall, while I enjoyed this book, it didn't stand out for me in any way. I read it because it won the Pura Belpre award this year and was one several Newbery lists I saw this winter, so I was surprised by the overall lack of... something. I can't put my finger on why, but this one just really didn't do it for me.

BUT! I did like parts of it. I liked the background conflict of the Mapuche people with developers. Not that I liked the conflict, but I like how Ryan worked it in, over the course of time, here and there. It was always in the background, but showed Neftali's growing social consciousness and showed how his uncle and father disagreed. I also liked that the book was printed in green ink (the reasons why show up in the author's note.)

Poetry Friday round up is over at A Wrung Sponge.

Book Provided by... my local library

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Friday, May 23, 2008

Poetry Friday


I'm still stuck on weddings. Forgive me. Here's a picture of my sister from her reception, also taken by Terry Dawson.

But, it's Poetry Friday! Yay! Today I'm bringing you 2 sonnets by Pablo Naruda. The first is the one that was supposed to be read at Abbey's wedding but there was a snafu, and so the second is the one that was actually read. But first, do you know what my favorite Simpsons line ever is? It's the episode where Bart sells his soul and he can't laugh at "Itchy and Scratchy" anymore.

Bart: I know that's funny, but I'm just not laughing.
Lisa: Hmm. Pablo Neruda said: "Laughter is the language of the soul."
Bart: I am familiar with the works of Pablo Neruda.

The deadpan delivery of that last line is just hysterical. Also! Only 13 days left to vote in the sidebar for what to read for MotherReader's 48 Hour Challenge. I'm going to start gathering the books on Tuesday, so make your voice count!






Sonnett XVII

don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving

but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.


Sonnett LXXXI

And now you’re mine. Rest with your dream in my dream.
Love and pain and work should all sleep, now.
The night turns on its invisible wheels,
and you are pure beside me as a sleeping ember.

No one else, Love, will sleep in my dreams. You will go,
we will go together, over the waters of time.
No one else will travel through the shadows with me,
only you, evergreen, ever sun, ever moon.

Your hands have already opened their delicate fists
and let their soft drifting signs drop away;
your eyes closed like two gray wings, and I move

after, following the folding water you carry, that carries
me away. The night, the world, the wind spin out their destiny.
Without you, I am your dream, only that, and that is all.

Becky has the roundup!