The language of a poem can make us access parts of our consciousness that seemed asleep. Short poems have the magic of transporting our imagination to landscapes and poetic images that gratify and edify us, at the same time that they can make us change our perception of the reality that surrounds us, and not always on the outside.

Poetry is, like humor, the most sincere way of showing a truth that directly affects us. It is a sublime way of approaching the understanding of a truth that stimulates our senses and awakens our soul or mind.

Short poems that change the way you see life

The following short poems and sonnets are compiled by writers from different times, geographical territories, and philosophical currents; but that in common they have the use of the poet’s subtle and direct language.

The poems listed below belong to renowned poets, however, some of these poems are unpublished. Such poets range from the great poet Pablo Neruda, Atahualpa Yupanqui, Alfonsina Storni, Juan Gelman, Mario Benedetti, Edgar Allan Poe, Jorge Luis Borges and many other great poets and writers of Universal literature.

1. Flies enter through closed mouth

So little we know
and so much we presume
and so slowly we learn
that we ask questions, and we die.
Better keep pride
for the city of the dead
on the day of the dead
and there when the wind travels through
the holes in your skull it
will reveal so much enigma,
whispering the truth
where your ears were.

Pablo Neruda – Extravagario 1958

2. AF… S S. O… D

Do you want to be loved? Don’t let
your heart turn away from this path then!
Being now how much you are.
do not be anything that you are not.
So for the world your manners,
your grace, your beauty more than beautiful,
will be an infinite subject of praise,
and loving you … only a duty.

Edgar Allan Poe

3. Borges and time

Denying temporal succession, denying the self, denying the astronomical universe, are apparent despairs and secret consolations. Our destiny (unlike the hell of Swedenborg and the hell of Tibetan mythology) is not terrifying because it is unreal; it’s hideous because it’s irreversible and made of iron. Time is the substance of which I am made. Time is a river that takes me away, but I am the river; it is a tiger that destroys me, but I am the tiger; It is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire. The world, unfortunately, is real; I, unfortunately, am Borges.

-Jorge Luis Borges-

4. The Moon

To Maria Kodama

There is so much loneliness in that gold.
The moon of the nights is not the moon
that the first Adam saw. The long centuries
of human wakefulness have filled it
with ancient weeping. Look at her. It is your mirror.

-Jorge Luis Borges-

5. Who shines

When you look at me
my eyes are keys,
the wall has secrets,
my fear words, poems.
Only you make my memory
a fascinated traveler,
an incessant fire.

Alejandra Pizarnik

6. Altazor or the parachute ride

Born in all the places where I lay my eyes.

With the head raised
And all the hair in the wind.
You are more beautiful than the neighing of a foal on the mountain,
than the siren of a ship that lets its whole soul escape,
than a lighthouse in the mist looking for someone to save.

You are more beautiful than the swallow crossed by the wind.
You are the noise of the sea in summer,
you are the noise of a crowded street full of admiration.

I am sitting in the most sensitive corner of your gaze,
under the static silence of immobile eyelashes.
An omen comes out of the bottom of your eyes
and an ocean wind ripples your pupils.

Nothing compares to that legend of seeds that your presence leaves behind.

To that voice that seeks a dead star to come back to life.
Your voice makes an empire in space.
And that hand that rises in you as if it were going to hang suns in the air
And that gaze that writes worlds in infinity
And that head that bends to hear a murmur in eternity.

And that foot that is the feast of the chained roads
And that kiss that swells the bow of your lips
And that smile like a banner in front of your life
And that secret that directs the tides of your chest
Asleep in the shadow of your breasts.

If you died,
the stars, despite their lit lamp,
would lose their way
. What would become of the universe?

-Vicente Huidobro – Fragment

7. I am my body

I am my body. And my body is sad, it is tired. I am about to sleep for a week, a month; Do not talk to me.

That when I open my eyes the children have grown and all things smile.

I want to stop stepping on the cold with my bare feet. Throw on me everything that is hot, the sheets, the blankets, some papers and souvenirs, and close all the doors so that my loneliness does not go away.

I want to sleep for a month, a year, to fall asleep. And if I speak in my sleep, ignore me, if I say a name, if I complain. I want you to pretend that I am buried, and that you cannot do anything until the day of resurrection.

Now I want to sleep for a year, just sleep.

-Jaime Sabines-

8. Kitsch sonnet to a mengana

I / so-and-so / carry
your face with me in every fate of history.
Your mengana body is a glory
and that is why when dreaming I dream of you.

Then / if the dream ends I
chase you daydreaming / it is a Ferris wheel
that surrounds your echo in my memory
and tells you those dreams that I tell you.

Thus / without mysterious intentions
I know that I will willingly choose
from my old garden only your roses.

From the high windows your window
from the sea signs your sea of ​​things
and all the love / your love / mengana.

-Mario Benedetti-

9. The mirror

To José Saramago

The punished dream remains
in the dream of itself, it does not
swing its fright.
Where will you go with your memory?
Between trees look for
a true shade
in this duration. The dream
was others and it is another today that others
deny or believe that it did not exist.
He does not want false encounters
and contemplates his face in a mirror
that stopped and saved
glares that do not age
tomorrow.

-Juan Gelman-

10. Man time

I do not study things nor do I pretend to understand them.
I recognize them, it is true, because I lived in them before.
I talk with the leaves in the middle of the mountains
and the secret roots give me their message.

And so I go through the world, without age or destiny.
Under the protection of a cosmos that walks with me.
I love the light, and the river, and the silence, and the star.
And I flourish on guitars because I was the wood.

By Dr. Eric Jackson

Dr. Eric Jackson provides primary Internal Medicine care for men and women and treats patients with bone and mineral diseases, diabetes, heart conditions, and other chronic illnesses.He is a Washington University Bone Health Program physician and is a certified Bone Densitometrist. Dr. Avery is consistently recognized in "The Best Doctors in America" list.

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