Vox Populi
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Meg Kearney: Hearts of Poets (Two Poems)
Hearts of Poets
Shelley’s heart defied cremation, so it’s said.
He died young when his boat sank in a squall.
By the time his body washed ashore, all
that was left was burned on the beach, deathbed
a pyre lit by three friends; two then fled
the heat, the stink that began to appall—
leaving just Trelawny, who had the gall
to pluck from ashes the heart of Shelley. Dead!
Chances are Shelley never dreamed he’d die
by drowning, his overblown ego enough
to float a platoon of poets. Dread
nearly killed young Keats before the T.B. snuffed
his last breath. That death came as no surprise.
(Neruda guessed poison. It was his heart instead.)
~~~~
Neruda’s Heart (& Death)
Neruda guessed poison; it was his heart instead,
though murder wasn’t far-fetched. As for that,
neither was cancer, but his well-known spat
with Chile’s president—the reason he fled
in forty-eight—made poison a valid dread.
So he went into hiding, turned ex-pat.
In three years, by then a world-famous poet,
he was home for good. What, then, could be said
of his heart? Metaphorically speaking
it was no fleshy apple, no hot moon—
he wrote well of love, but here’s the surprise:
he wasn’t a nice guy. His ode to spoons,
gorgeous; but Borges said Pablo was “mean.”
What shouldn’t have shocked: my father’s heart. Its demise.
~~~~
Copyright 2025 Meg Kearney
Meg Kearney’s All Morning the Crows won the 2020 Washington Prize for poetry. She is also a prolific writer of books for young adults and children.
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Two brilliant sonnets. Just wow.
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Thanks so much, Lisa!!!
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These are fine sonnets, Meg. (I spent time with you once at the Frost Place! )
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Thanks a ton, Carol! What year at the Frost Place, do you remember?
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Hi, Megan. I was at the Festival in 2003, and at the Frost Seminar I. 2004. Which year were you there? –Carol
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Hi Carol! (It’s Meg…actually Margaret, LOL) I don’t think I missed a Frost Festival between 1989 and 2005, and I think I taught at the seminar in 2002. After they moved the Fest to July I wasn’t able to go anymore, but I’m always in that area for the first three weeks of summer on a writing retreat so used to attend the seminar readings in the barn in the evenings until the pandemic hit. I do miss the old days when the Fest and Seminar were in person!
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My memory is that you were actually reading my poems and commenting. I guess that’s probably wrong???
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Carol, I also taught at the Festival several times, so YES, that is highly likely! I just can’t remember which years those were. I’ve been involved so long, including on the board for a few years. But I am glad we met there! It’s one of my sacred places.
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As always, Meg, you stun me to silence. These poems are gorgeous. And to think, I know you personally! =) I am blessed.
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Oh yes, I always feel blessed when someone I know writes something I love.
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Thank you, dear Carlene!
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There is such heart in these heart poems, Meg, heart that is well matched by the intelligence and craft in them.
Bob
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Thanks SO much, Bob–I think you know that I admire you and your work, and your words mean a great deal!
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These poems stop this heart of mine—just in time for a boiling, ice ridden ocean to carry us away. What’s in store? Poetry is my final refuge, even poetry that sets me afire. There is a prophet in meg’s muse, yea, I’m sad my life arrived in the world of “mean Pablo,” and Shelly’s inflammable heart.
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I’ve always wondered why the gift of poetry has been entrusted to poets, not saints. Perhaps the muse prefers the song to be carried in a cracked vessel?
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Love this thought
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There should have been an addendum to Jesus’ Beatitudes: Blessed are the Poets, for they shall have a heart.
I got so wrapped up in the heartfulness of the Kearney sonnets, I forgot to see the amazing works of art they are too. Poetic boons to us readers.
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THANK YOU, Sean!
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Such fascinating sonnets! Outsized egos and mysterious deaths and the physical becomes metaphorical. I want to read more about the hearts of poets.
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Rhymed sonnets — with the last line of Hearts of Poets becoming the first line of Neruda’s Heart (And Death) — Will these sonnets be part of a Crown of Sonnets about poets, dear Meg? Or might these become a Heroic Crown? What supple and fluid enjambments, what mastery in tone. How good to find your work in Vox Populi!
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The formal nature of these poems is a miracle in itself.
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Thank you, Laure-Anne (and all)! YES, these two sonnets are taken from my new heroic crown of sonnets, CARDIAC THRILL, forthcoming from Green Linden Press in September 2025. Now I am thrilled that Michael said yes to them and by your and others’ responses!
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I’m impatient to own & read Cardiac Thrill, dear Meg!
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Congratulations, Meg!
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Congratulations. These are so great!
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Fascism has no heart. Authoritarianism has miniscule compassion. The poetry of Neruda and Shelley defies heartlessness. Fascist regimes take away that heart. This becomes all too apparent again today. Poetry of the heart keeps lifeblood circulating. These two poems do for me.
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