Ode to things
I have a crazy,
crazy love of things.
I like pliers,
and scissors.
I love
cups,
rings,
and bowls –
not to speak, of course,
of hats.
I love
all things,
not just
the grandest,
also
the
infinite-
ly
small –
thimbles,
spurs,
plates,
and flower vases.
Oh yes,
the planet
is sublime!
It’s full of
pipes
weaving
hand-held
through tobacco smoke,
and keys
and salt shakers –
everything,
I mean,
that is made
by the hand of man, every little thing :
shapely shoes,
and fabric,
and each new
bloodless birth
of gold,
eyeglasses,
carpenter’s nails,
brushes,
clocks, compasses,
coins, and the so-soft
softness of chairs.
... and that is just the beginning of Pablo Neruda's poem, one of many in the book of almost the same name -
(via) |
Among them are odes to the cat, the dog, the onion, the tomato, a bar of soap, a pair of scissors.
1 comment:
I love this....objects....every little thing is a bit of a miracle when you consider the history, how each thing came to be and the interactions with human history. Thanks for pointing out this Neruda collection! cheers, Patti
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