the poem doesn’t have stanzas, it has a body,
the poem doesn’t have lines, it has blood,
the poem is not written with letters, it’s written
with grains of sand and kisses, petals and moments,
shouts and uncertainties.
~José Luís Peixoto
Portuguese author-poet José Luís Peixoto finishes up my month of poems about poetry, words, and books. Sending appreciation to José for allowing me to share this!
from Ars Poetica (The Art of Poetry)
by José Luís Peixoto
The poem has nothing more than the sound of its meaning,
The letter P is not the first letter of the word poem --
Poem is sculpted from the senses and this is its form.
You don’t read poem as poem,
You read it bread or flower,
Read it as fresh grass and your lips,
You read it as smile stretched over a thousand trees
Or sky of knives,
You read fear and looking for the blind,
You read it child's hands
Or you, mother, who is sleeping
And assured that I was born of you
To be words which are not written,
You read it country and sea
And forgotten sky and memory,
You read it silence
Yes, over and over, poem reads silence
Here's a poem by José that brought a tear to my eye (you've been warned!):
By random selection, we have a winner of St. George's Reward...BECKY SHILLINGTON! Congrats, Becky! I look forward to being your patron-of-surprises (or is that matron?). I will be sending a one-time surprise to two other randomly selected folks, but I will keep their names secret so it will really be a surprise...
No Water River is the Poetry Friday round-up host.