Another About Poetry

I think that the beauty of a poem lies in its interpretation. I mean, in a room of ten people, all reading the same poem, you’d more than likely get ten different interpretations and chances are none would dovetail with what the poet had in mind when he wrote the poem.

A poem can, and probably should, mean different things to different people. Isn’t it amazing how poetry moves each one of us in its own different way?

If you would support me on this I’d like to make an experiment.

Here’s one of my shortest poems. Kindly share your interpretation in the comments. Thanks!

from “Caught in the Warmth”, 2006:

By Raymund Tamayo

When I close a prayer
I open life.
I walk
and I hear faint answers
to every yearning
my heart cries.

I learned about love
from love itself,
love I learned from a single kiss
to a single touch.
To a beautiful life.

(May 2005)