In the TV series Sex and the City  the jaded Carrie Bradshaw is abashed when Alex Petrovsky tries to woo her with poetry. She seems to think that reading a higher form of literature than prose is dramatic and out of sync with her brash, independent American spirit.  I am appalled that any woman (fictional or not)  would think that way. For poetry is meant to evoke a powerful emotional and sensual response in the reader or listener.  How many have taken to heart Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s forty-third sonnet: “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach, when feeling out of sight for the ends of Being and ideal Grace.” To hear her words is to feel the exultation in her very soul. Indubitably, the stylistic elements and symbolism have a great deal to do with the appeal of verse. It is also possible that a writer’s thoughts and feelings are intensified as he writes in metrical form.   Reading poetry to your beloved elicits a positive response that ultimately strengthens your bond. A smile, a tear or even a kiss and embrace are spontaneous gestures that arise as the connection between you is made.

The following is an excerpt from my favorite poem (XVII) by Pablo Neruda, a renowned Chilean writer who won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1971:

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where

 I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride

 So I love you because I know no other way

Than this: where I does not exist, nor you. So close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
 

So close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. 

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