I like poetry straight, stark but sensuously fulsome, and carrying a hint of tragedy, romance and earthiness. That is how I discovered Neruda and why I fell in love with him. In the mushy throes of my teen years, struggling for a poetic equivalent of that moment when eyes meet, the heart skips a beat and unknown stirrings besot you, my lifelong love for Neruda was ignited.
It is strange that when I could not afford to buy his volumes, I coveted them and when I can, I no more wish to possess them. For me, he makes sense when I touch the creased and severely underlined printouts I took of his poems. That’s how I like him and will always cherish him and that’s how this blog got its name.
(I just found the above bit in my drafts and I loved it. It might not make much sense but then what does on this blog )
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