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cdlindwall 's review for:
Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair
by Pablo Neruda
I hate poetry. Maybe I am just not the deep, soul-searching, finger-snapping, dark brooding type that can enjoy this kind of word garbage. Who knows. But these 21 poems were laughable. It was like Neruda just Madlibbed in the words "Wave," "Soul," "Birds" and "Twilight" randomly and then at the end pretended he was talking about some profound love. Uh, no? At best you have some interesting descriptions that still don't make much sense and at worst you have hilariously clichéd poetry that sounds like something an angsting 14 year old would put up on his blog. For emphasis, I will include some of my favorite passages:
"Necklace, drunken bell for your hands smooth as grapes."
There is no context for this stanza. That's it. Revel in its depth.
"And the leaves fell in the water of your soul...Sweet Blue hyacinth twisted over my soul...Dry autumn leaves revolved in your soul."
This is all from the same short poem. Combining "soul" with "beautiful and majestic aspects of nature" = Poetry 101.
"The birds of night peck at the first stars that flash like my soul when I love you."
What the fuck does this even mean. Just...what...
"Your breasts seem like white snails. A butterfly of shadow has come to sleep on your belly."
.......Romantic? :|
Upstream, in the midst of the outer waves, your parallel body yields to my arms like a fish fastened to my soul..."
LIKE A FISH FASTENED TO YOUR SOUL? WHY IS THIS CONSIDERED LITERATURE? THIS IS NOT BEAUTIFUL. YOU ARE LITERALLY JUST SAYING RANDOM SHIT.
These were some of the lines I found funniest. But the rest of it really is just "oh I'm so deep" poetry mumbo-jumbo. The power of words lies in its ability to communicate feelings and ideas to others. For some reason, poetry seems to try its hardest to make sure the reader has no real clue what they're trying to say. I don't understand the appeal of that, personally. BUT HEY. WHATEVS. To be fair, though, there was one stanza that I really liked:
"My words rained over you, stroking you. A long time I have loved this sunned mother-of-pearl of your body. I go so far as to think that you own the universe. I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, blue-bells, dark hazelz, and rustic baskets of kisses. I want to do with you what spring does to the cherry trees." :)
"Necklace, drunken bell for your hands smooth as grapes."
There is no context for this stanza. That's it. Revel in its depth.
"And the leaves fell in the water of your soul...Sweet Blue hyacinth twisted over my soul...Dry autumn leaves revolved in your soul."
This is all from the same short poem. Combining "soul" with "beautiful and majestic aspects of nature" = Poetry 101.
"The birds of night peck at the first stars that flash like my soul when I love you."
What the fuck does this even mean. Just...what...
"Your breasts seem like white snails. A butterfly of shadow has come to sleep on your belly."
.......Romantic? :|
Upstream, in the midst of the outer waves, your parallel body yields to my arms like a fish fastened to my soul..."
LIKE A FISH FASTENED TO YOUR SOUL? WHY IS THIS CONSIDERED LITERATURE? THIS IS NOT BEAUTIFUL. YOU ARE LITERALLY JUST SAYING RANDOM SHIT.
These were some of the lines I found funniest. But the rest of it really is just "oh I'm so deep" poetry mumbo-jumbo. The power of words lies in its ability to communicate feelings and ideas to others. For some reason, poetry seems to try its hardest to make sure the reader has no real clue what they're trying to say. I don't understand the appeal of that, personally. BUT HEY. WHATEVS. To be fair, though, there was one stanza that I really liked:
"My words rained over you, stroking you. A long time I have loved this sunned mother-of-pearl of your body. I go so far as to think that you own the universe. I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, blue-bells, dark hazelz, and rustic baskets of kisses. I want to do with you what spring does to the cherry trees." :)