Category: poetry



From an urban landscape to rustic villages lining the coast of the longest and narrowest country in the world, it took nearly 2 hours driving from Santiago to Isla Negra. One of Chile’s famous citizens was Pablo Neruda, a poet and I must add, a full-blooded romantic. Makes me wonder if all poets are indeed romantics. His two-storey house in Isla Negra is one of 3 — the other two can be found in Santiago and Valparaiso. The one in Isla Negra is an oceanfront lovely house filled with curio and childhood souvenirs that give you a better appreciation of Señor Pablo.

There are 14 “stations” where the audio guide details the items found in each. Here’s one audio guide I truly enjoyed. Whoever crafted the narratives are so good that one feels the sentimental values and laugh at the humor just listening to the well-articulated descriptions. The rooms and halls are a tad tiny — as Neruda wanted a house designed like a boat — which enhanced a visitor’s personal encounter. Most rooms have large glass windows facing the Pacific Ocean where waves wildly crash the boulders. It was almost violent but still a lovely sight that must have inspired many of Neruda’s poems.

It is a pity that photography is not allowed inside the house. But someone in our group snapped some photos which I’m sharing here. If I were bold enough, I would have taken a picture of the bedroom with its crocheted bedcovers and the living room which looked more like an antique shop. Oh, there’s also the small writing room which Señor Pablo considered his “refuge” and where many of his poems were written. I can just imagine him seated behind that desk, staring at the ocean and listening to the sound of waves . As one steps outside the house, the cold wind slaps your face and perks your senses awake. Sitting still on the benches is a welcome luxury. Bathed in sunlight and lightly sprayed with ocean mist, the outdoor spots truly offer a meditative break — a pleasure.

The Joy In My Heart


Once, I waxed poetic

Nothing grand, nowhere epic

Wordsmith, surely I am not

Just speaking from the heart.

Every morn I ponder

Thinking aloud, still sober

What countless blessings You gave

So much more than I deserve.

It’s this joy in my heart

The cheer in that sacred part

Such a gift, so precious

Stuck in my subconscious.

Not everything is on fleek

God lets happen even if you’re meek

Your gift of cheer I seek

To live life’s joys at its peak.

(Photo taken more than 30 years ago)