Poetry is white:
it comes from water swathed in drops,
it wrinkles and gathers,
this planet's skin has to spread out,
the sea's whiteness has to be ironed out,
and the hands keep moving,
the sacred surfaces get smoothed,
and things are done this way:
the hands make the world every day,
fire conjoins with steel,
linen, canvas, and cotton arrive
from the scuffles in the laundries,
and from light a dove is born:
chastity returns out of the foam.
Poetry is white: it comes from water swathed in drops, it wrinkles and gathers, this planet's skin has to spread out, Great poem.
Poor Pablo... imagine listening to your own creation being desecrated by robovoice.... sigh
poet Pablo Neruda #6 on top 500 poets Poet's PagePoemsQuotesCommentsStatsE-BooksBiographyVideosShare on FacebookShare on Twitter Poems by Pablo Neruda: 69 / 145 « prev. poem next poem » Ode To Ironing - Poem by Pablo Neruda Autoplay next video Poetry is white: it comes from water swathed in drops, it wrinkles and gathers, this planet's skin has to spread out, what an imagination.. of Neruda
Poetry is white: it comes from water swathed in drops, it wrinkles and gathers, this planet's skin has to spread out, .. the great poet's cogitations on the poet and poems. tony
it comes from water swathed in drops, it wrinkles and gathers, this planet's skin has to spread out, the sea's whiteness has to be ironed out, Beautiful description of poetry. Thanks poet.