POETRY READING WITH CHILDREN AND YOUTH IN UNCERTAIN TIMES
By: BEATRIZ VANEGAS ATHIES
Literacy Workshop SARA
MALACCA
Uruguayan writer Eduardo Account Galeano, who as a child his grandmother told him the fable of the blind men and the elephant: "They were the three blind to the elephant. One of them touched his tail and said: "It's a string
. Another blind
touched a leg of the elephant and said: "It's a column
. The third blind
put his hand on the elephant's body and guessed:
"It's a wall.
And the story ends with a reflection-Galeano moral: "So we, us blind, blind the world. From birth, we are trained to see nothing but bits. The dominant culture, culture of disassociated, breaks past history and present reality breaks and prohibits assembling the puzzle. "
What puzzle? The life beyond appearances. Poetry is the voice of the people, but also the language of the chosen, helps all of a puzzle. Because it fit all kinds of beings and speeches, that is revolutionary in nature. Write, but more importantly, read poetry, is a method of inner liberation.
In these sad times, hectic here in the classroom, where boys and girls you care about everything and give a damn, it is urgent to occur encounter with the poem, not to grow up convinced that life is so thin like a rope, or as thick as a column or so grid like a wall.
Poetry then, can offer the pieces to a puzzle of our being as irreverent and playful, as in this poem by the Mexican writer RICARDO CASTILLO, entitled buttocks: The woman also has the rear split into two
But it is clear the buttocks of a woman / are incomparably better than those of / a man, / have more life, more joy, is pure imagination / are more important than the sun and God together, / are a staple that does not affect / inflation / a birthday cake on your birthday, / a blessing of nature / origin of poetry and scandal. / "
Poetry helps us put the puzzle together, when the poem becomes a spiral in which echo the world music, world music is love, as in this beautiful text creator Jattin Colombian Raul Gomez: Not able to speak / You spoke of the sea / And the sea answered me / the echo of your name / Your name was the name / my pain had /.
Poetry, dear friends, can give us the serenity and the pause that makes us numb to the pain of many Colombians. And this serenity give us poems like Japanese haiku poem or short extension, but as the profound intention of the Japanese SOIN: If you sing / butterfly / might have to suffer / in a cage /, or this hard lesson through which the poet FERNANDO ARBELAEZ invites us to value life, now worthless. Lesson: A fish does not know / what was the water / to ask / wiser fish / she said / if you want to know / what is the water / salt / her.
But poetry is also a game, it's satire, playfulness, wit, like life. And there are the epigrams and greguerías, those surprising and playful definition of some aspect of reality, whose main architect was English poet Ramon Gomez de la Serna. What better poetry to show us what we see because we do not or because they have taught us to see:
The child tries to draw the ideas of the nose.
The rainbow is the film that puts nature after washing the face
The giraffe is a horse stretched out of curiosity.
· What if ants and Martians were set on Earth?
• The chickens are tired of reporting to the police station to steal the eggs.
Rush is leading us to death.
Here is the poem to show that another version of reality that the Internet or television shows made up. There is the chronic poem tells stories of the terror visited by beings. Beings that pass before our eyes like characters in a movie Stallone, Bruce Willis or Arnold Schwarzenegger, but in fact are part of the cemetery of oblivion in which Colombia has become thanks to the language of violence that tells the poet Polish Wislawa Szymborska in his poetic chronicle "A terrorist, he notes" The bomb will explode in the bar at thirteen veinte. / Now just are thirteen and sixteen. / Some still have time to go. / Other entry . / The terrorist has been located across the street. / This distance protects him from harm / and it looks like in the movies: / A woman with a yellow jacket, she walks. / A man with dark glasses: it goes. / Some boys in jeans: they're talking about. / Thirteen seventeen and forty seconds. / A girl: she is walking with a green ribbon in her hair. / only bus that suddenly the lid. / Thirteen eighteen. / It is not the girl. /
must have been so stupid to enter or not, / So we'll see when they are extracting. / Thirteen nineteen. / And now as that does not fit anyone. / Instead of There still get a fat bald sale. / But it seems you are looking for something in their pockets and / at thirteen twenty minus ten seconds / returns to get their miserable gloves. / They are the thirteen twenty. / How slow over time. / Looks that already. / still not. / Yes, now. / A bomb: the bomb explodes. "
says the Cuban poet José Martí that freedom is the right of every man to be honest and to think and speak without hypocrisy. " This morning, we will exercise freedom, reading Antipoems, falling in love with poems of love, serenity with these bits of time called haiku exercise scathing criticism and the right to laugh greguerías, artifacts and epigrams and feelings with poetic stories.
The antipoetry: a more human life
antipoet For poetry is "a front need. " For an anti-poet, "The poet is a man like all / A mason who builds his wall: A manufacturer of doors and windows." The anti-poet-and the operator told Chilean Nicanor PARA-talk "In everyday language" and are there for the tree does not grow crooked, so the Nadaísta EDUARDO ESCOBAR wrote the following Antipoems against political corruption: Shipping: my child to be / sensible / smart / and honest / So / never / be / minister /.
The antipoet denounce "The poet Bookworm." They ask, with all respect that all these men are prosecuted and tried by construir castillos en el aire. “Por malgastar el espacio y el tiempo/ Redactando sonetos a la luna/…” Los antipoetas afirman con hechos y poemas que “El pensamiento no nace en la boca/ Nace en el corazón del corazón”. La antipoesía, para decirlo con palabras de Roberto Montes Mathieu, es “la poesía libre de ornamentos inútiles, menos estéril, más comunicativa y útil, interesada en el hombre y su realidad”
El amor que se describe en los antipoemas es cotidiano y real, leamos este antipoema del autor colombiano JOSÉ LUIS GARCÉS GONZÁLEZ, Poema de la ingenuidad: “Desde el silencio del hotel/ oigo a una mujer bella/ bathing in the room next door., / I hear the water sliding / by her naked body, / and I can not see. / I hear talking to a man / and calls him 'daddy'. / cayendo7 for water continues his naked body, / and I guess white / fleshy, / with three mosquito bites on the buttocks / freckles and two breasts ray. / Ask for the shampoo / and the man says from the bed. / Then there is silence / and I let my eyes paralyzed. / What will happen?, I wonder / as love fool. / then / toilet water sounds / and I remember / beautiful women / also have droppings /.
The antipoet shows situations that are inconsistent with the moral and morality. He writes about love, demystifying it and it uses humor, sarcasm to the point that the possibilities of the sublime feeling is not limited to traditional relationships. There is Raúl Gómez Jattin, reminding us that the first love of many men in the Colombian Caribbean coast is the popular "Mary casquitos" in the now famous Antipoems I love donkey: Because you do not talk / or you complain / ask or silver / or cry / and you take away a spot in the hammock or you soften / or sigh when I come / or you gathers / or hold me / I want you there alone / like me / without pretending to be me / sharing your erica / with my friends / free me be wrong with them / and asking a kiss /.
There is also the great Mexican poet Jaime Sabines, with its real hard but it reflects the fatigue Antipoems partner when the relationship has lost the charm of being in love: "There is a way ...: There is a way for me do quite happy, / dear, die.. "
antipoetry is a more human life because it found its space the beggar, the workman, the recycler and the displaced. With antipoetry can feel the identity of the man and woman described it, their miseries, their joys, their lies, their dreams, their problems and also its particular way of loving and being loved. Antipoetry is a social text that brings us to human pain:
The bug: Yesterday I saw a bug / patio at the dump / foraging for food among the debris. / When I found something / not examine or smelled: / swallow greedily. / The bug was not a dog / cat was not, / not a mouse. / The bug, my God, was a man. / ".
antipoetry therefore requires readers free of taboos, which did not blush. The satire and realism employed by the antipoet need a reader who has the desire to know who is directed criticism. A sincere reader who is willing to laugh and be convinced that humor is possible in poetry and she is not limited to romantic poems, tears, or the verses bit understandable. I share with you the following Antipoems or artifacts created by the Chilean poet Nicanor Parra:
"USA / where freedom is a / statue."
Here are bought and sold / country: Washington.
These artifacts have the critical tone of the address of the cartoon. Used, like the cartoon, a colloquial, everyday language and their weapons or resources are essential irony, sarcasm and humor. As Aleida, the irreverent and feminist establishment Vladdo Colombian cartoonist, who bitterly questioned the relationships of this century that has just begun:
Nothing heavier than a type "Light."
De boyfriends are supersonic, married are Supercines.
In the blink of an eye, the man of dreams can turn into the kind of nightmares.
Why is it that guys are so smart to get the gross?
The dog is man's best friend (obviously)
The vast version of the life that is the short poem
Now is the time of the Messenger message super shortcuts. How we love to talk, but by phone. Soon we use in extensive consultations. Today is the time: look at the title copy, cut and paste. We see without seeing. Walk full of facts, but full of emptiness. I think poetry are also briefly in droves on the Internet, can be a key to detoxify our atrophied senses. The short poem called haiku, created by the Orientals can help us see in this the poet Yossa Busson: A shower / cling to the / herbs / sparrows "or this one, also Busson: I stayed / I saw lights and snow / Row Houses / ".
These haikus or "pieces of time", contain beauty, struggle, joy and serenity. Above all serenity, that behavior that is now endangered. And with serenity and images olfactory, visual, gustatory, tactile and auditory, the Japanese have made things speak for themselves.
loneliness to name this poet Issa : My house in ruins / only for ceiling / vine. To tell the men and women fighting it from the Mexican Olga Arias: Counter target / my dreams / What bird so powerful!. To show the absence beautiful is the haiku of the Argentine poet Carlos Spinedi: The sea flooded / the hole your foot / left on the beach /. To invite us to see human suffering, but also the courage, the poet Ritsurin Issekiro: While short / I see that the tree is / serenity. Poetry
brief to laugh, especially when it comes to greguerías, which in the words of its creator, the English poet Ramón Gómez de la Serna are "something that makes us sad, big head, sorrowful or moody because He writes the author plays, throws his head high, and then picks them up. Here is a mini anthology of the maestro greguerías Gómez de la Serna:
Teachers are like cheap bubble gum: chewing difficult.
The hat is the top of the ideas.
The toad is known so ugly that only comes out at night.
prefer typewriters used because they have experience and spelling. Death is
hereditary.
offers medicine to cure a hundred years who are dying now, "
In short, poetry, short as a finding at least one deep thought, a subtle emotion expressed in a concise form, as the joke can not nor should it be explained that it loses its charm. Short poems whose auctions are unexpected and surprising as a slap:
Days like needles Juan Manuel Roca: I'm so lonely, love, that my room / only rises, rung by rung / the old staircase trachea / -
The night is not the same / since the change a star / by the light of a neon. / Since then there faces, / only masks / "Beatriz Zuluaga. Poems
whose end is a blow to the chin for a few words tell us much:
Cuban Song Oh, Joseph, and can not!
Oh, Joseph, and do not know!
Oh, Joseph, and no!
AY, Joseph as well!
Ay, Jose!
Ay! The Cuban Guillermo Cabrera Infante. Or as the epigram of the Nicaraguan poet Ernesto Cardenal: The person next to me / you, to yet / I do not see for so long / but in my dreams. Enjoy this little anthology of short poems that deal with the injustice of war and the sweet poison of love: Let's be logical
If so strongly stated that in a war
the final battle is the best, I will not explain why the hell
deleted
not others. Or there is no logic or logic.
Luis Vidales (Colombia)
Counteroffensive
If you give a shot in the dark
the only effective response is to
seer sticks. Mario Benedetti (Uruguay)
Love Poem 14: I know that love does not exist / and I know / that I love you /. Dario Jaramillo Agudelo.
The
tasty
love poetry and have come to love poetry, the most acclaimed and best known. Love, heartbreak and loneliness that go together and those who endlessly poets have written. Love, the union of two solitudes are respected, in the words of Rilke, that feeling that sets us apart from the beasts or sometimes we like them. Love causes insomnia Your name Jaime Sabines:
try to write your name in the dark.
try to write that I love you. The dark trying to say this.
not want anyone to know, that nobody would look at three o'clock
walking from one place to another in the
stay crazy, full of yourself, love. Illuminated,
blind, full of yourself, derramándote.
say your name all the silence of the night, my heart cries
gagged. I repeat your name, I repeat, what I say
tirelessly, and I'm sure will
dawn.
This is the pride of the Moluccas swallow, sometimes desperate love is also playful and daring as in the poem Nadaísta us love the Elmo Valencia: We love each
Summer is here!
Let us love!
In the winter, we have many possibilities.
The Magdalena, drag your breasts. Cauca,
my navel.
El Orinoco, tus deseos. El Amazonas, mi lengua.
Podemos amarnos frente a un espejo que el espejo no dirá
nada.
O frente a un televisor encendido con TV. Cable
y la Pantera Rosa en la Pantalla.
La Pantera tampoco dirá nada.
Si un gato nos mira, amémonos. Y si no nos mira,
qué vamos a hacer, también amémonos.
El absurdo nos da pie para que nos amemos.
Recuerda: el mundo está loco. Y si no lo está, con mayor
razón amémonos.
Amémonos al pie de un verso surrealista.
Al pie de un volcán sacando chispas.
Al pie de un ejército de pájaros.
Al pie de tus zapatos viejos.
Al pie del cañón.
At the foot of the lyrics of a song by the Beatles.
the bottom of an alarm clock because dust
love is a deep sleep. Let us love
near the airport watching planes pass
not know if you are coming or going because we
nude with burning bodies.
Finally, let us
Thursday morning because Monday is impossible.
But this love is crazy and outrageous also touched by nostalgia and distance, when sadness is committed to building his home within us because the loved one decides not to be, it then gives her beautiful poetry sad love version as a Romance city and Colombian rain Patricia Iriarte:
is now one twenty in the afternoon and rain to win,
like almost never rains in Bogotá. I would like to be with you,
here or in front of any window, watching this blind
water that slips over the city. I would look
hugging you, to ward off the nostalgia and the cold that comes
always rainy afternoons. It rains
win, and while the city was left wanting
by water, I'm dying to love you and cover you with kisses
wet. Thousands and thousands of kisses on you
falling as rain.
And love is unforgettable sung by the greatest poet of love that is Colombia that is, without doubt, Dario Jaramillo Agudelo , whose book Poems of love, wrote the following poem which accounts for the inability to forget that love that has marked our being .
Poem of Love 2
may very well delete you from my life.
not answer phone calls, do not open the door of the house,
not think you do not wish you,
not get you anywhere and not common to see you,
travel on streets where I know no raisins, remove from my memory
every moment we shared,
every memory of your memories,
forget your face until you can not recognize you
evasive answer when you ask me
and act as if you had not ever existed.
But I love you.
That's right: love it or love it. Love when you can not forget or become united, point of support, assistance, friendship, becomes a tactic and strategy :
My tactic is / look at you / learn how sos / love you as you are / my tactic is / talk and listening / build with words / an indestructible bridge / my tactic is to / stay in your memory / I do not know how or know / what pretext / but stay in you / my tactic is to / be honest / and know that you are honest / and We do not sell / drills / that between the two / no curtain / or depths / my strategy is / however / deeper and more / simple / my strategy is / that one day / I do not know how or know / what pretext / finally need me. Wait
the other or the other we need is the dream, the utopia of love. Because love is "alone, alone, alone," and who better than Jaime Sabines to tell us who the love. : Lovers: The silent love. / Love is the finest silent, / the one that trembles, the more unbearable. / The lovers are looking for / The lovers are those who leave, / the ones who change, who forget. / Her heart told they will never have to find / not find, seek /. Yes, everyone at some point in our lives we've been loving in the sense that the poet describes Sabines. Life is made up of loving beings who daily forget those whom we love, or seek or exchange it for another or one that we will love you better.
The charm of the narrative poetry
What came first the song, ie, poetry, or story, ie the narrative?. I think neither one nor the other came first, born at the time. So the song was first told. The original heroic narrative poetry were written in verse. Homer was the glories and miseries of his people Greek in the Iliad and Odyssey. Our Indians sang their way of life through poetic myth. At first there was no difference between being a poet and a philosopher. The world is told in poetry, fables, poems that told what was happening in every village, valley, stay. So the aedas and minstrels. Poetry was the chronicle of the people. The radio had a charm of good and bad news.
therefore not surprise us fables. So sometimes there is more poetry in a story in a text written in verse. So many poets, in every century of history have written lyric poems, but also heroic and narrative. Poems that chronicle or radiography of the society they lived through. Today I want to close this meeting with you, dear students, telling poems that tell stories about simple things, but thanks to the magic of the poetic word, they become universal, transcendent. I will share
for example, the narrative poem by José Manuel Arango, in which the poet lays bare the cynicism of the executioners who now have to Colombia turned into a cemetery of graves:
There are people who come stomping hard
There are people who come stomping hard
screaming and ordered that in this world feel at home
People believe everything their
that break and tear
not even acknowledge the air
And it hurts a bone
no doubt will feel no fear and even erect
with death tutean
frankly I do not know how they do not understand how
Those same people who exercise the office of the war, the company's most insipid of man through history. The executioners makers absences and pain for generations as a beautifully told Colombian poet William Ospina in the poem THE CHILDREN OF SOLDIERS
My father was a teacher. I was seven.
And one day she received, as all the letter.
had been accepted into the party
(though he never would have asked income).
They sent the shield with a swastika.
few months later marched towards Russia.
My mother was ill that winter, the three children
should do everything in casa.Y letters sometimes came from the eastern front.
War was an absence, a silence, a fear grew.
After the letters are gone, and ended the war.
And the men returned, but he was on the front.
How long was the child, how sad this Germany in memory.
The three rode together every Saturday
to expect that train.
Not to mention what we expected.
And my mother thought we were playing in the fields neighbors.
Year after year, without fail, every Saturday, without telling anyone
,
that season saw us grow silent.
When night fell, we returned. WILLIAM
OSPINA
But not only the collective and family dramas produced by war and violence are concerned about the poet. These seemingly trivial matters, those familiar pains we all go. The helplessness of watching fraternity will be surrounded by a little timely care and pain that ensues, but worth the poet's verses: Carmen Gómez-my distant cousin, died almost a / child / family farmer living near City / and Sunday my mother and I went to visit / In the belly grew a malignant tumor / that was draining his body to death / Carmen was spiritual and beautiful / and received our gifts-a bunch of grapes / blouse organdy-crying / When I met her I was sick and doctors had given up / Desperate parents went to a sorcerer, a healer, he displayed his magic / with painful and humiliating ceremonies / The witch was cure the incurable: / the whipped eucalyptus branches / her riding naked-he sat in the belly-/ Y Carmen stoically endured such abuse / hoping to save the sinking / A in April we took the cemetery to bury / and my tears were the first poured a dead / / (Raúl Gómez Jattin).
And poetry, the poem when he tells also of tenderness dresses. And he tells stories with taste so naive that occur on the first two loves of many children: soccer and the girl of dreams: Yesterday afternoon: Yesterday afternoon, / as I promised, / I played the best match football of my life. / On the first time / I made a goal after fifteen minutes. / A thirty-seven did another. / In the second half, / in the seventh minute, / José Villegas, / which he sings says / that butterflies are born in the mind, / our archer shot a pop on the left corner. / At nineteen minutes and fifteen seconds, / David, who wants to be an aviator, / tied the game / goal with a nice head. / A forty-four minutes / Castañitas style, / I made the prettiest goal of the world. / My team won by the score of two to three, / but I felt I had lost because you did not come. / I defeated the goals that your absence made me . (Jairo Aníbal Niño).
The poet and scribe, as a chronicler of life as a painter that draws the colors of human misery. The poet who narrates and describes the word as a brush, in its inability to draw, we provides narrative poems as if they were paintings that tear the soul of the reader.
the banks of the Rio Grande : I go when the sun / is still a reality absent. / Shore Road / women swept the parapets / and sharpen the language / day for slander. / Already breathe din port: / fishermen and traders / officiate jugglers / on the edge of the canoes. / smells like hot oil / and mountain pies / collapse before the urgency of hunger. / Catfish supports the cruelty of the knife / to expire so that others breathe: / life is stirred by death. / sweaty hands and bloody / merge in a swap / money, maids / and agouti-flavored burps. / A dog raises paw / and satisfied urine / on a bucket full of bocachicos: / receive as a reward / entrance with a knife in the gut. / When the sun torture / children lice / hobble back with a fish / left hand / and broken soul on the right. ( Beatriz Vanegas Athias).
Yes, in these times, the poet lives with broken soul, but that fact does not rule out the singer's life. Although talk of pain, death, and disappointed love, the poet and poetry, are evidence that humans will not become a beast. Therefore, my dear friends, poetry, irreverent, humorous bold, calm, gentle and loving, narrative, should, now more than ever to occupy a privileged place in the classroom and in the lives of all of you. Thank you very much.
Bucaramanga, August 2007, Third Congress Youth Readers and Writers Association Presentation: "Eyes that do not read correctly ... they do not understand"
By: BEATRIZ VANEGAS ATHIES
Literacy Workshop SARA
MALACCA
Uruguayan writer Eduardo Account Galeano, who as a child his grandmother told him the fable of the blind men and the elephant: "They were the three blind to the elephant. One of them touched his tail and said: "It's a string
. Another blind
touched a leg of the elephant and said: "It's a column
. The third blind
put his hand on the elephant's body and guessed:
"It's a wall.
And the story ends with a reflection-Galeano moral: "So we, us blind, blind the world. From birth, we are trained to see nothing but bits. The dominant culture, culture of disassociated, breaks past history and present reality breaks and prohibits assembling the puzzle. "
What puzzle? The life beyond appearances. Poetry is the voice of the people, but also the language of the chosen, helps all of a puzzle. Because it fit all kinds of beings and speeches, that is revolutionary in nature. Write, but more importantly, read poetry, is a method of inner liberation.
In these sad times, hectic here in the classroom, where boys and girls you care about everything and give a damn, it is urgent to occur encounter with the poem, not to grow up convinced that life is so thin like a rope, or as thick as a column or so grid like a wall.
Poetry then, can offer the pieces to a puzzle of our being as irreverent and playful, as in this poem by the Mexican writer RICARDO CASTILLO, entitled buttocks: The woman also has the rear split into two
But it is clear the buttocks of a woman / are incomparably better than those of / a man, / have more life, more joy, is pure imagination / are more important than the sun and God together, / are a staple that does not affect / inflation / a birthday cake on your birthday, / a blessing of nature / origin of poetry and scandal. / "
Poetry helps us put the puzzle together, when the poem becomes a spiral in which echo the world music, world music is love, as in this beautiful text creator Jattin Colombian Raul Gomez: Not able to speak / You spoke of the sea / And the sea answered me / the echo of your name / Your name was the name / my pain had /.
Poetry, dear friends, can give us the serenity and the pause that makes us numb to the pain of many Colombians. And this serenity give us poems like Japanese haiku poem or short extension, but as the profound intention of the Japanese SOIN: If you sing / butterfly / might have to suffer / in a cage /, or this hard lesson through which the poet FERNANDO ARBELAEZ invites us to value life, now worthless. Lesson: A fish does not know / what was the water / to ask / wiser fish / she said / if you want to know / what is the water / salt / her.
But poetry is also a game, it's satire, playfulness, wit, like life. And there are the epigrams and greguerías, those surprising and playful definition of some aspect of reality, whose main architect was English poet Ramon Gomez de la Serna. What better poetry to show us what we see because we do not or because they have taught us to see:
The child tries to draw the ideas of the nose.
The rainbow is the film that puts nature after washing the face
The giraffe is a horse stretched out of curiosity.
· What if ants and Martians were set on Earth?
• The chickens are tired of reporting to the police station to steal the eggs.
Rush is leading us to death.
Here is the poem to show that another version of reality that the Internet or television shows made up. There is the chronic poem tells stories of the terror visited by beings. Beings that pass before our eyes like characters in a movie Stallone, Bruce Willis or Arnold Schwarzenegger, but in fact are part of the cemetery of oblivion in which Colombia has become thanks to the language of violence that tells the poet Polish Wislawa Szymborska in his poetic chronicle "A terrorist, he notes" The bomb will explode in the bar at thirteen veinte. / Now just are thirteen and sixteen. / Some still have time to go. / Other entry . / The terrorist has been located across the street. / This distance protects him from harm / and it looks like in the movies: / A woman with a yellow jacket, she walks. / A man with dark glasses: it goes. / Some boys in jeans: they're talking about. / Thirteen seventeen and forty seconds. / A girl: she is walking with a green ribbon in her hair. / only bus that suddenly the lid. / Thirteen eighteen. / It is not the girl. /
must have been so stupid to enter or not, / So we'll see when they are extracting. / Thirteen nineteen. / And now as that does not fit anyone. / Instead of There still get a fat bald sale. / But it seems you are looking for something in their pockets and / at thirteen twenty minus ten seconds / returns to get their miserable gloves. / They are the thirteen twenty. / How slow over time. / Looks that already. / still not. / Yes, now. / A bomb: the bomb explodes. "
says the Cuban poet José Martí that freedom is the right of every man to be honest and to think and speak without hypocrisy. " This morning, we will exercise freedom, reading Antipoems, falling in love with poems of love, serenity with these bits of time called haiku exercise scathing criticism and the right to laugh greguerías, artifacts and epigrams and feelings with poetic stories.
The antipoetry: a more human life
antipoet For poetry is "a front need. " For an anti-poet, "The poet is a man like all / A mason who builds his wall: A manufacturer of doors and windows." The anti-poet-and the operator told Chilean Nicanor PARA-talk "In everyday language" and are there for the tree does not grow crooked, so the Nadaísta EDUARDO ESCOBAR wrote the following Antipoems against political corruption: Shipping: my child to be / sensible / smart / and honest / So / never / be / minister /.
The antipoet denounce "The poet Bookworm." They ask, with all respect that all these men are prosecuted and tried by construir castillos en el aire. “Por malgastar el espacio y el tiempo/ Redactando sonetos a la luna/…” Los antipoetas afirman con hechos y poemas que “El pensamiento no nace en la boca/ Nace en el corazón del corazón”. La antipoesía, para decirlo con palabras de Roberto Montes Mathieu, es “la poesía libre de ornamentos inútiles, menos estéril, más comunicativa y útil, interesada en el hombre y su realidad”
El amor que se describe en los antipoemas es cotidiano y real, leamos este antipoema del autor colombiano JOSÉ LUIS GARCÉS GONZÁLEZ, Poema de la ingenuidad: “Desde el silencio del hotel/ oigo a una mujer bella/ bathing in the room next door., / I hear the water sliding / by her naked body, / and I can not see. / I hear talking to a man / and calls him 'daddy'. / cayendo7 for water continues his naked body, / and I guess white / fleshy, / with three mosquito bites on the buttocks / freckles and two breasts ray. / Ask for the shampoo / and the man says from the bed. / Then there is silence / and I let my eyes paralyzed. / What will happen?, I wonder / as love fool. / then / toilet water sounds / and I remember / beautiful women / also have droppings /.
The antipoet shows situations that are inconsistent with the moral and morality. He writes about love, demystifying it and it uses humor, sarcasm to the point that the possibilities of the sublime feeling is not limited to traditional relationships. There is Raúl Gómez Jattin, reminding us that the first love of many men in the Colombian Caribbean coast is the popular "Mary casquitos" in the now famous Antipoems I love donkey: Because you do not talk / or you complain / ask or silver / or cry / and you take away a spot in the hammock or you soften / or sigh when I come / or you gathers / or hold me / I want you there alone / like me / without pretending to be me / sharing your erica / with my friends / free me be wrong with them / and asking a kiss /.
There is also the great Mexican poet Jaime Sabines, with its real hard but it reflects the fatigue Antipoems partner when the relationship has lost the charm of being in love: "There is a way ...: There is a way for me do quite happy, / dear, die.. "
antipoetry is a more human life because it found its space the beggar, the workman, the recycler and the displaced. With antipoetry can feel the identity of the man and woman described it, their miseries, their joys, their lies, their dreams, their problems and also its particular way of loving and being loved. Antipoetry is a social text that brings us to human pain:
The bug: Yesterday I saw a bug / patio at the dump / foraging for food among the debris. / When I found something / not examine or smelled: / swallow greedily. / The bug was not a dog / cat was not, / not a mouse. / The bug, my God, was a man. / ".
antipoetry therefore requires readers free of taboos, which did not blush. The satire and realism employed by the antipoet need a reader who has the desire to know who is directed criticism. A sincere reader who is willing to laugh and be convinced that humor is possible in poetry and she is not limited to romantic poems, tears, or the verses bit understandable. I share with you the following Antipoems or artifacts created by the Chilean poet Nicanor Parra:
"USA / where freedom is a / statue."
Here are bought and sold / country: Washington.
These artifacts have the critical tone of the address of the cartoon. Used, like the cartoon, a colloquial, everyday language and their weapons or resources are essential irony, sarcasm and humor. As Aleida, the irreverent and feminist establishment Vladdo Colombian cartoonist, who bitterly questioned the relationships of this century that has just begun:
Nothing heavier than a type "Light."
De boyfriends are supersonic, married are Supercines.
In the blink of an eye, the man of dreams can turn into the kind of nightmares.
Why is it that guys are so smart to get the gross?
The dog is man's best friend (obviously)
The vast version of the life that is the short poem
Now is the time of the Messenger message super shortcuts. How we love to talk, but by phone. Soon we use in extensive consultations. Today is the time: look at the title copy, cut and paste. We see without seeing. Walk full of facts, but full of emptiness. I think poetry are also briefly in droves on the Internet, can be a key to detoxify our atrophied senses. The short poem called haiku, created by the Orientals can help us see in this the poet Yossa Busson: A shower / cling to the / herbs / sparrows "or this one, also Busson: I stayed / I saw lights and snow / Row Houses / ".
These haikus or "pieces of time", contain beauty, struggle, joy and serenity. Above all serenity, that behavior that is now endangered. And with serenity and images olfactory, visual, gustatory, tactile and auditory, the Japanese have made things speak for themselves.
loneliness to name this poet Issa : My house in ruins / only for ceiling / vine. To tell the men and women fighting it from the Mexican Olga Arias: Counter target / my dreams / What bird so powerful!. To show the absence beautiful is the haiku of the Argentine poet Carlos Spinedi: The sea flooded / the hole your foot / left on the beach /. To invite us to see human suffering, but also the courage, the poet Ritsurin Issekiro: While short / I see that the tree is / serenity. Poetry
brief to laugh, especially when it comes to greguerías, which in the words of its creator, the English poet Ramón Gómez de la Serna are "something that makes us sad, big head, sorrowful or moody because He writes the author plays, throws his head high, and then picks them up. Here is a mini anthology of the maestro greguerías Gómez de la Serna:
Teachers are like cheap bubble gum: chewing difficult.
The hat is the top of the ideas.
The toad is known so ugly that only comes out at night.
prefer typewriters used because they have experience and spelling. Death is
hereditary.
offers medicine to cure a hundred years who are dying now, "
In short, poetry, short as a finding at least one deep thought, a subtle emotion expressed in a concise form, as the joke can not nor should it be explained that it loses its charm. Short poems whose auctions are unexpected and surprising as a slap:
Days like needles Juan Manuel Roca: I'm so lonely, love, that my room / only rises, rung by rung / the old staircase trachea / -
The night is not the same / since the change a star / by the light of a neon. / Since then there faces, / only masks / "Beatriz Zuluaga. Poems
whose end is a blow to the chin for a few words tell us much:
Cuban Song Oh, Joseph, and can not!
Oh, Joseph, and do not know!
Oh, Joseph, and no!
AY, Joseph as well!
Ay, Jose!
Ay! The Cuban Guillermo Cabrera Infante. Or as the epigram of the Nicaraguan poet Ernesto Cardenal: The person next to me / you, to yet / I do not see for so long / but in my dreams. Enjoy this little anthology of short poems that deal with the injustice of war and the sweet poison of love: Let's be logical
If so strongly stated that in a war
the final battle is the best, I will not explain why the hell
deleted
not others. Or there is no logic or logic.
Luis Vidales (Colombia)
Counteroffensive
If you give a shot in the dark
the only effective response is to
seer sticks. Mario Benedetti (Uruguay)
Love Poem 14: I know that love does not exist / and I know / that I love you /. Dario Jaramillo Agudelo.
The
tasty
love poetry and have come to love poetry, the most acclaimed and best known. Love, heartbreak and loneliness that go together and those who endlessly poets have written. Love, the union of two solitudes are respected, in the words of Rilke, that feeling that sets us apart from the beasts or sometimes we like them. Love causes insomnia Your name Jaime Sabines:
try to write your name in the dark.
try to write that I love you. The dark trying to say this.
not want anyone to know, that nobody would look at three o'clock
walking from one place to another in the
stay crazy, full of yourself, love. Illuminated,
blind, full of yourself, derramándote.
say your name all the silence of the night, my heart cries
gagged. I repeat your name, I repeat, what I say
tirelessly, and I'm sure will
dawn.
This is the pride of the Moluccas swallow, sometimes desperate love is also playful and daring as in the poem Nadaísta us love the Elmo Valencia: We love each
Summer is here!
Let us love!
In the winter, we have many possibilities.
The Magdalena, drag your breasts. Cauca,
my navel.
El Orinoco, tus deseos. El Amazonas, mi lengua.
Podemos amarnos frente a un espejo que el espejo no dirá
nada.
O frente a un televisor encendido con TV. Cable
y la Pantera Rosa en la Pantalla.
La Pantera tampoco dirá nada.
Si un gato nos mira, amémonos. Y si no nos mira,
qué vamos a hacer, también amémonos.
El absurdo nos da pie para que nos amemos.
Recuerda: el mundo está loco. Y si no lo está, con mayor
razón amémonos.
Amémonos al pie de un verso surrealista.
Al pie de un volcán sacando chispas.
Al pie de un ejército de pájaros.
Al pie de tus zapatos viejos.
Al pie del cañón.
At the foot of the lyrics of a song by the Beatles.
the bottom of an alarm clock because dust
love is a deep sleep. Let us love
near the airport watching planes pass
not know if you are coming or going because we
nude with burning bodies.
Finally, let us
Thursday morning because Monday is impossible.
But this love is crazy and outrageous also touched by nostalgia and distance, when sadness is committed to building his home within us because the loved one decides not to be, it then gives her beautiful poetry sad love version as a Romance city and Colombian rain Patricia Iriarte:
is now one twenty in the afternoon and rain to win,
like almost never rains in Bogotá. I would like to be with you,
here or in front of any window, watching this blind
water that slips over the city. I would look
hugging you, to ward off the nostalgia and the cold that comes
always rainy afternoons. It rains
win, and while the city was left wanting
by water, I'm dying to love you and cover you with kisses
wet. Thousands and thousands of kisses on you
falling as rain.
And love is unforgettable sung by the greatest poet of love that is Colombia that is, without doubt, Dario Jaramillo Agudelo , whose book Poems of love, wrote the following poem which accounts for the inability to forget that love that has marked our being .
Poem of Love 2
may very well delete you from my life.
not answer phone calls, do not open the door of the house,
not think you do not wish you,
not get you anywhere and not common to see you,
travel on streets where I know no raisins, remove from my memory
every moment we shared,
every memory of your memories,
forget your face until you can not recognize you
evasive answer when you ask me
and act as if you had not ever existed.
But I love you.
That's right: love it or love it. Love when you can not forget or become united, point of support, assistance, friendship, becomes a tactic and strategy :
My tactic is / look at you / learn how sos / love you as you are / my tactic is / talk and listening / build with words / an indestructible bridge / my tactic is to / stay in your memory / I do not know how or know / what pretext / but stay in you / my tactic is to / be honest / and know that you are honest / and We do not sell / drills / that between the two / no curtain / or depths / my strategy is / however / deeper and more / simple / my strategy is / that one day / I do not know how or know / what pretext / finally need me. Wait
the other or the other we need is the dream, the utopia of love. Because love is "alone, alone, alone," and who better than Jaime Sabines to tell us who the love. : Lovers: The silent love. / Love is the finest silent, / the one that trembles, the more unbearable. / The lovers are looking for / The lovers are those who leave, / the ones who change, who forget. / Her heart told they will never have to find / not find, seek /. Yes, everyone at some point in our lives we've been loving in the sense that the poet describes Sabines. Life is made up of loving beings who daily forget those whom we love, or seek or exchange it for another or one that we will love you better.
The charm of the narrative poetry
What came first the song, ie, poetry, or story, ie the narrative?. I think neither one nor the other came first, born at the time. So the song was first told. The original heroic narrative poetry were written in verse. Homer was the glories and miseries of his people Greek in the Iliad and Odyssey. Our Indians sang their way of life through poetic myth. At first there was no difference between being a poet and a philosopher. The world is told in poetry, fables, poems that told what was happening in every village, valley, stay. So the aedas and minstrels. Poetry was the chronicle of the people. The radio had a charm of good and bad news.
therefore not surprise us fables. So sometimes there is more poetry in a story in a text written in verse. So many poets, in every century of history have written lyric poems, but also heroic and narrative. Poems that chronicle or radiography of the society they lived through. Today I want to close this meeting with you, dear students, telling poems that tell stories about simple things, but thanks to the magic of the poetic word, they become universal, transcendent. I will share
for example, the narrative poem by José Manuel Arango, in which the poet lays bare the cynicism of the executioners who now have to Colombia turned into a cemetery of graves:
There are people who come stomping hard
There are people who come stomping hard
screaming and ordered that in this world feel at home
People believe everything their
that break and tear
not even acknowledge the air
And it hurts a bone
no doubt will feel no fear and even erect
with death tutean
frankly I do not know how they do not understand how
Those same people who exercise the office of the war, the company's most insipid of man through history. The executioners makers absences and pain for generations as a beautifully told Colombian poet William Ospina in the poem THE CHILDREN OF SOLDIERS
My father was a teacher. I was seven.
And one day she received, as all the letter.
had been accepted into the party
(though he never would have asked income).
They sent the shield with a swastika.
few months later marched towards Russia.
My mother was ill that winter, the three children
should do everything in casa.Y letters sometimes came from the eastern front.
War was an absence, a silence, a fear grew.
After the letters are gone, and ended the war.
And the men returned, but he was on the front.
How long was the child, how sad this Germany in memory.
The three rode together every Saturday
to expect that train.
Not to mention what we expected.
And my mother thought we were playing in the fields neighbors.
Year after year, without fail, every Saturday, without telling anyone
,
that season saw us grow silent.
When night fell, we returned. WILLIAM
OSPINA
But not only the collective and family dramas produced by war and violence are concerned about the poet. These seemingly trivial matters, those familiar pains we all go. The helplessness of watching fraternity will be surrounded by a little timely care and pain that ensues, but worth the poet's verses: Carmen Gómez-my distant cousin, died almost a / child / family farmer living near City / and Sunday my mother and I went to visit / In the belly grew a malignant tumor / that was draining his body to death / Carmen was spiritual and beautiful / and received our gifts-a bunch of grapes / blouse organdy-crying / When I met her I was sick and doctors had given up / Desperate parents went to a sorcerer, a healer, he displayed his magic / with painful and humiliating ceremonies / The witch was cure the incurable: / the whipped eucalyptus branches / her riding naked-he sat in the belly-/ Y Carmen stoically endured such abuse / hoping to save the sinking / A in April we took the cemetery to bury / and my tears were the first poured a dead / / (Raúl Gómez Jattin).
And poetry, the poem when he tells also of tenderness dresses. And he tells stories with taste so naive that occur on the first two loves of many children: soccer and the girl of dreams: Yesterday afternoon: Yesterday afternoon, / as I promised, / I played the best match football of my life. / On the first time / I made a goal after fifteen minutes. / A thirty-seven did another. / In the second half, / in the seventh minute, / José Villegas, / which he sings says / that butterflies are born in the mind, / our archer shot a pop on the left corner. / At nineteen minutes and fifteen seconds, / David, who wants to be an aviator, / tied the game / goal with a nice head. / A forty-four minutes / Castañitas style, / I made the prettiest goal of the world. / My team won by the score of two to three, / but I felt I had lost because you did not come. / I defeated the goals that your absence made me . (Jairo Aníbal Niño).
The poet and scribe, as a chronicler of life as a painter that draws the colors of human misery. The poet who narrates and describes the word as a brush, in its inability to draw, we provides narrative poems as if they were paintings that tear the soul of the reader.
the banks of the Rio Grande : I go when the sun / is still a reality absent. / Shore Road / women swept the parapets / and sharpen the language / day for slander. / Already breathe din port: / fishermen and traders / officiate jugglers / on the edge of the canoes. / smells like hot oil / and mountain pies / collapse before the urgency of hunger. / Catfish supports the cruelty of the knife / to expire so that others breathe: / life is stirred by death. / sweaty hands and bloody / merge in a swap / money, maids / and agouti-flavored burps. / A dog raises paw / and satisfied urine / on a bucket full of bocachicos: / receive as a reward / entrance with a knife in the gut. / When the sun torture / children lice / hobble back with a fish / left hand / and broken soul on the right. ( Beatriz Vanegas Athias).
Yes, in these times, the poet lives with broken soul, but that fact does not rule out the singer's life. Although talk of pain, death, and disappointed love, the poet and poetry, are evidence that humans will not become a beast. Therefore, my dear friends, poetry, irreverent, humorous bold, calm, gentle and loving, narrative, should, now more than ever to occupy a privileged place in the classroom and in the lives of all of you. Thank you very much.
Bucaramanga, August 2007, Third Congress Youth Readers and Writers Association Presentation: "Eyes that do not read correctly ... they do not understand"
Thursday