Anthology · Chilean Culture · Chilean Literature · Classic · Collection · Compilation · Excerpt · Ode · Passage · Poetry

Pablo Neruda

Ode to SadnessSadness, scarabwith seven crippled feet,spiderweb egg,scramble-brained rat,bitch’s skeleton:No entry here.Don’t come in.Go away.Go backsouth with your umbrella,go backnorth with your serpent’s teeth.A poet lives here.No sadness maycross this threshold.Through these windowscomes the breath of the world,fresh red roses,flags embroidered withthe victories of the people.No.No entry.Flapyour bat’s wings,I will trample the feathersthat fall from… Continue reading Pablo Neruda

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Chilean Culture · Chilean Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Fragment · Ode · Passage · Poetry

Pablo Neruda

Love, what does it matterthat time,the very time that raised two flames,two waving heads of wheat,my body and your gentleness,tomorrow will hold them safeor mill the grain,and with those same unseen fingerserase the identities that separate us,giving us the final victoryof being one beneath the ground. —  Pablo Neruda, from “Ode to Time,” Selected Odes… Continue reading Pablo Neruda

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Chilean Culture · Chilean Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Ode · Poetry

Pablo Neruda

Ode to Bees Multitude of bees!in and out of thecrimson, the blue,the yellow,of the softestsoftness in the world;you tumbleheadlonginto a corollato conduct your business,and emergewearing a golden suitand quantities ofyellow boots. The waist,perfect,the abdomen stripedwith dark bars,the tiny,ever-busyhead,thewings,newly made of water;you enterevery sweet-scented window,opensilken doors,penetrate the bridal chamberof the most fragrantlove,discoveradropof diamonddew,and from every houseyou… Continue reading Pablo Neruda

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American Culture · American Literature · Aubade · Contemporary · Ode · Online Anthology · Poetry

Greg Wrenn

Ode, Aubade And the morning, too,falters,struggles toassert itself, burn throughthe errantfog, the pines,scorch the whole groveof treesand crookedstreetlamps. Your body’s turning,turningbeside mein my bed’s— sprawl?Badlands?You sighon my neck. Startled,the crickand sob buried inside itlike a pulsar behind dust,like a larvain a bean,want out. Greg Wrenn, Poem-A-Day, March 25, 2013

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Academic · Anthology · British Culture · Classic · Collection · Compilation · English Literature · Excerpt · Fragment · Ode · Passage · Poetry · Reference · Romanticism

John Keats

The weariness, the fever, and the fret    Here, where men sit and hear each other groan; Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,    Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;      Where but to think is to be full of sorrow            And leaden-eyed despairs. — John Keats, from “Ode… Continue reading John Keats

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Chilean Culture · Chilean Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Ode · Poetry

Pablo Neruda

Ode To A Lemon Out of lemon flowers loosed on the moonlight, love’s lashed and insatiable essences, sodden with fragrance, the lemon tree’s yellow emerges, the lemons move down from the tree’s planetarium Delicate merchandise! The harbors are big with it- bazaars for the light and the barbarous gold. We open the halves of a… Continue reading Pablo Neruda

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