Poet

[ An ode to the poetic mind of Pablo Neruda ]

rummaging
through a jungle
of beliefs-
i run from house to house
chased by a raging bull


how do i
describe you
in words alone-
all the words in me
are 'stolen'


hidden under
a white brimmed hat
i read faces
bricks and lanes
burnt by Santiago sun


when the end came
six and half hours later
i was envisioning
the army searching my house
for a man named 'poetry'


treading on  a planet
snapped from all modes of return
the soil
coloured with blood
of perished revolts

One February we were selling love

the thrum
of a tranquil guitar
at the Beatles Ashram
we'll meditate
along with butterflies

***

what can you offer
to the morning breeze
the chorus
of four bright boys
merging with the fog

***

bloodied
by twilight
one black bulbul
tells you the tale of a god
selling peace in packets


***

freed
from the hubbub
of money machines
this spring we'd sell love
to the babblers