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Newsletter Dated: 7/27/2005 5:13:44 PM

Subject: Poetry/Poemas

NEWSLETTER BILINGUAL MCA
http://www.bilingualmca.bravehost.com


A)POWELL ORIGINAL POEMS IN SPANISH
B)POWELL POETRY IN ENGLISH
C)FRANCISCO GOMES DE MATOS, POEMS BY HIM AND TRANSLATION TO SPANISH FROM ENGLISH BY AZCONA

D)POEM BY ANDRE BENDAVI BEN YEHU
E)POEMA POR SILVINA CASTELLANO

10 POEMAS CORTOS EN ESPAÑOL

Por Adam Donaldson Powell








1)

AMÉRICA, NO TE RECONOZCO.

Imágenes de mi patria

Destruídas por la realidad:



Fronteras cerradas,

Sospechas y

Paranoia inherente..



Impresiones digitales obligatorias ..

Registro electrónico de inmigrantes ..

Guerras preventivas de guerras .



América, no te reconozco.


(Shhhhh....)

América .. No te reconozco.....

No te reconozco...


América....






2)

BOLERO MODERNO.


Las estatuas de los ángeles

Tiemblan de miedo.


Las madres valerosas

Lloran en secreto

Al comienzo

De cada día de escuela.


Mentes bellas de jóvenes

Torcidas

En un baile

Perverso ...

Descarado.


Mientras

Las bombas estallan

Las vírgenes prometidas

Juegan al escondite...



Y no se oye más música.




3)

VERDE.

Manzanas,

Peras, aceitunas,

Apio, espárragos,

Brócoli, aguacates,

Árboles, esmeraldas,

Chakra corazón,

Ojos seductores,

Culebras del jardín,

Uniformes de Boy Scout,

Política ambiental,

Chaquetas militares,

Dólares americanos,

Avaricia, celos -

Verde.




4)

HOJA DE SABLE.

Nuestra danza es ritual;


Obsesión sin sensaciones

Entre dos polillas que

Juegan con fuego.


Ni cadenas, ni látigos.


Sólo servidumbre....


Y la dulce consecuencia

Del filo del sable.





5)

ANTES DE LA MUERTE DE MI AMOR....



Pienso en ti ..

Y muero

Lentamente

En mis sueños.

Pienso en ti ..

Y ahora

Lo único que queda

Son la música,

Unas palabras perdidas

Y .. quizás

Una que otra lágrima

Errante..


Pienso en ti ..

La lluvia oculta

La arrogante apatía,

El retórico insoportable.

La apología

Sin rostro

De los que piden perdón.


Despierto y descubro

Lágrimas

Que baten

Ventanas con grietas

Y sueños quebrados ..


De súbito ..


No puedo llorar más;

La lluvia ha parado.

Bajo el cielo desnudo

La vieja pintura se descolora.


Y yo pienso aún en ti ..


Hasta olvidar


El silencio que ya existía



Antes de la muerte de mi amor.








6)

TAL VEZ.


¡ Fuerza !

El amor



¡ Fuerza !

El sexo



¡ Fuerza !

Las mentiras


Y tal vez te encuentre

En mis sueños errantes.







7)

EL ÚLTIMO TANGO.


Las reglas más importantes


Con respecto a la vida


Nos fueron revelados unos momentos


Antes del amanecer en


Una de las grandes avenidas


Que siempre están en discordia


Con la logica de las cosas útiles:


El vino joven ..


El sexo promiscuo ..


Las compras compulsivas


Y quizás .. el ir a la iglesia


En un día de trabajo.


Nos reconocemos en los


Sueños vivos capturados en


Las pinturas de Goya y El Bosco.


Y allí, bailamos nuestro último tango;


Lenta ..


Y religiosamente ....



Y huimos de la memoria exacta


A la sombra de nuestras


Últimas


Indiscreciones.







8)

NO SÉ ..



No sé a quién debo culpar ..



No hallo la respuesta


Ni en el Fado ni en la Jota ..



No sé a quién debo culpar ..



Pero esa cucaracha


Será castigada seguramente


Si no escapó


A la botella de vino


Que acabo de lanzar contra la pared.



No sé a quién debo culpar ..


No sé a quién debo culpar ..






9)

ALEGRÍA.

¿Dònde buscamos la alegría?

¿En la sonrisa del niño

En su fiesta de cumpleaños?

¿En la cara del adolescente orgulloso

Que alcanza su primer orgasmo?

¿En la mente del padre

Cuando nace su primer nieto?

Repito...

¿Dònde buscamos la alegría?

¿En las noticias: que los gobiernos ricos

De occidente han dado

Otra dura lección?

¿Escuchar que todo esta bajo control y

Que los insurgentes han sido detenidos?

¿En el anuncio de que la economía mejora

O que pagaremos menos impuestos?

Repito...

¿Dònde buscamos la alegría?

¿En nuestras calles hermosas

Llenas de mendigos y de ladrones?

¿En saber que la gente pobre del mundo

Goza de más justicia y de menos pobreza?

¿En el trabajo por la paz y

La igualdad en un mundo para todos?

Repito...

¿Dónde buscamos la alegría?






10)

MieNtras esperamos...


Pacientemente - nos mantenemos,

Desesperados por creer en Dios,

En la justicia y la humanidad.

Repetidamente - sufrimos

Nuestra propia ignorancia e inmovilidad.

Admirablemente - nos hacemos mártires,

E intentamos paliar nuestro dolor con santidad

Y consideración.

Inevitablemente -- nos vengamos,

Con las mismas tácticas de nuestros agresores.

Últimamente - nos avergonzamos

Por todos los que pensaban que éramos extraordinarios.

Típicamente - esperamos

Que el mundo reconozca sus equivocadas críticas



Irónicamente -- no aprendemos nada,

Y no se olvida ni se perdona.





Telephone:
54-11-4383-2576


Website: de Adam D Powell en
Bilingual MCA Poets & Writers for Peace



Iflacenarg


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Want to review or comment on this poem?
Click here to login!

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Click here for your Membership!




Reviewed by Erin Kelly-Moen 7/25/2005

Though I could not, unfortunately, read these poems, I went to Adam D. Powell's website, where I read 'Shelter', 'Boundaries', 'Zodiac', 'Of Fools and Kings', and the achingly echoing 'Whispers', my persoanl favorite, the last by Adam D. Powell and Diana Oabey.

In addition, I entered Adam Powell's painting gallery, where I enjoyed the obverse colorful meldings and minglings of nontraditional patterns, whether of oblique subtleness or overt rapturing, of inner vision. I was taken in particular with 'Reflection', 'Singapore Night', Vinduer', 'Tattered Veil', and the boldly vivid 'Jefais Souvent'.

Adam D. Powell is a talented, and accomplished, international Artist and Poet, and, I am grateful to have had the pleasure of familiarizing myself with his creative work.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen




Reviewed by Margarita Caligaris (Reader) 7/25/2005

La "Poesía de Adam D Powell" es muy linda. Cada poema acelerò mi encanto y el deseo de estudiar a este poeta.

The "Poetry of Adam D. Powell" is a tray of ambrosias...
A full course meal to nourish the souls of the readers.

Thank You Poet María Cristina Azcona for the Bio Translation of
this Master Poet. You are always a cultural working BEE!


Margarita Caligaris, Litt.D., Ph.D.




Reviewed by Andre Bendavi ben-YEHU 7/24/2005


Los poemas, America No Te Conosco, Bolero Moderno, Verde,
Hoja de Sable, Antes de La Muerte Mi Amor, Tal Vez,
El Ultimo Tango, No Sé, Alegría; y Mientra Esperamos,
son muestras de la pluma encantada del
Maestro Adam Donaldson Powell, la poética
de un corazón que siente la vida.

Me encantó conocer los trabajos de este Maestro Poeta.

Saludos,


Andre Emmanuel Bendavi ben-YEHU



------------

biography, books, links, poems



http://www.geocities.com/adamdonaldsonpowell/writings.html

Daedalus:

an ancient epic

for modern man

an epic reconstruction of the Cretan myths



Act 3



Theseus 1: Appeal

Lulled by the gentle

Cradling of the waves

And the soft shimmer of

The early morning moon,

The sleeping ship coasts

Upon the foamy crests

In dreamy quietude.

The insouciant reverie

Is dutifully maintained

By the mesmerizing

Tonalities and rhythms

Of creaking planks

And ocean spray.

And keeping sole watch over

Survival and expectation

Are a lunching rodent

And the insomnious Theseus,

Kneeling in silent supplication

To the celestial guardians

Of love and beauty.



Ariadne 1: Infatuation

Today, Mother Goddess,

I fear that I fell quite foolishly

In love with an extraordinary new

Slave-attendent bearing wine.

No sooner did I take but one sip

Than the resplendent face of Theseus

Captivated both vision and dreams.

I swam in the cool underwater grottos

Reflected in his emerald eyes,

And basked in the dawning borne

Of his sweet parting lips until

The brightness of his celestial smile

Broke my reverie and I found myself

Scampering about on my hands and knees,

Retrieving my fallen cup and

Blotting the runaway wine from

His perfect feet, while stammering:

"I'm terribly sorry ….

I thought you were someone else."



Theseus 2: Thread and Dagger

Armed with clew of thread, dagger and

An invincible strength of purpose,

Theseus of Athens stealthily winds

His way through the maze of dark

Corridors cluttered with hair,

Excrement and mortal bones in search

Of the beast known as the Minotaur.

Verily, the Mother Goddess shakes

Her head in disapproval and shame,

For beasts and the imperfectly-formed

Have a special place amongst the

Beloved of her Kingdom.



Death of the Minotaur

Writhing and moaning

With human-like expression,

The innocent offspring

Of passion and lust

Succumbs to nonexistence

Without knowing why --

Sacrificing his presumptuous

Right-to-life in deference

To the overriding popularity

Of physical beauty

And social convention.

And in his confusion of

Pity, revulsion and respect,

The valiant young Theseus

Replaces the blood-soaked

Dagger into its sheath and

Closes the distended eyelids of

His disabled opponent in combat.



Escape from Gnossos

Stealing through secret passageways

Past sleeping palace guards,

Bare-breasted Ariadne leads Theseus

And the thirteen to safety

With feminine will and insight.

Her pride of success is tarnished

By the inexplicably strange feeling

That she is seeing her past and

Intended future for both

The first and last time.

As she glances back briefly

Upon the impenetrable dormant fortress,

A vagabond tear stains the kohl

Outlining her eyes and she quickly

Turns to resume her traitorous mission

Into the betraying clutches of loneliness

Known only to women who bleed for love.



Ariadne 2: Jilting at Naxos

With the passage

Of a single cloud

Over the persistent sun,

The image of a victim of

Psychological rape is

Eternally engraved upon

The chronicles of history --

As tearing out her hair with

Contorted face and gaping mouth;

And the incessant wailing of

Passionate desperation yields

To rage as the near-drowned

Nymph crawls from sea to land

In a half-hearted attempt

At survival.



Changing of the Sails

The appearance of the Port of Pireaus

On the horizon transforms mirage into reality

As the vagabond ship rocks steadily between

The waves on the 27th day of summer.

Burning rays of sunlight fuel the fervor

Of moving muscles on bare-backed men

Hoisting ropes and alternating sails

From black to white, thus signalling

Their triumphant return from the

Grasp of death into the bosom of victory.

And at the helm stands the young hero Theseus,

Staring without seeing and smiling with

Non-expression: his concentration is

Distracted by the solitary image of a

Young woman in love, screaming his name

In vain.



Cataclysm

Sudden panic on the island of Atlantis

Is precipitated by intestinal gurgling

Within the volcanic cone of Mount Thira.

The impending cataclysm evokes terror

And fear amongst priests and sybarites alike

As the end of the world becomes self-evident.

In a final gesture of prayer and submission,

The doomed hostages of angry gods and nature

Kneel before images of the Great Mother

With fists to brow while the riotous movement

Of bubbling lava and gases escalates into

A hysterical danse macabre to-the-sea as

The earth is purged of decadent overindulgence.



In-flight

Father and son fly high above the

Spray of the sea in an attempt

To escape fatidic injustice through

Science and romanticism.

The synchronous flutter of waxen wings

On these daring charlatan-birds denotes

An intentional defiance of nature,

Punishable by death or evolution.

And so it is, with destined irony,

That the triumphant exhilaration at

Conquering the elements is necessarily

Moderated by mourning and sadness

At the realization that life as known

Can never be the same again.



The Drowning

…. And the scribe of the gods

impartially observes for the

annals of history:

"Daedalus looks on with helplessness

and horror as the youth is pulled

into the blue-green depths and

consumed by the jowls of destiny."





Act 4



Daedalus 3: Elegy

Icarus, my son --

In all honesty I guess we were

Always walking on the edge.

Suspended tautly between highs

And lows, we feared mediocrity

More than imbalance.

For us, challenge was but

The means of attaining individuality;

A space unto ourselves and

Forever out of reach of

Those who dreamed but

Never dared to risk.

We soared like eagles and

We fed on desires that

Sting the heart, yet

We neither gave nor received

Beyond our passion for

Excellence through solitude.

And now that I have witnessed

The birth of my conscience,

There remains no other recourse

Than to reinvest myself in

The ongoing saga which is the

Phenomenon of life.

Heretofore, I'd always thought

That phenomenon is emptiness;

But having now lost all

That has been dear to me --

I realize that emptiness

Is a kind of phenomenon.



The Riddle

Leading the procession of

Thirty haggard mercenaries in

Tattered finery was a short,

Dark-complexioned man with

Dirty black curls and a

Glint of twilight and

Magic in his eyes.

The demeanor of this

Broken-down gypsy with

Affectations of pomposity

And courtly grandeur incited

Both laughter and suspicion

Amongst the curious Sicanians.

Yet -- his fixed smile and

Piercing gaze betrayed nothing

But charm as he extended his

Palm holding a simple spiral

Seashell, and said:

"I'll bet you can solve this riddle!??"



Vengeance 2: Sicily

King Cocalus was taken by surprise

In the twenty-fourth hour when

Minos and his band of thirty

Burst into the royal bedchamber

Armed with torches, swords and

A dagger positioned against the neck

Of the fair princess of Camicus,

Held in ransom for he who

Solved the riddle.

Looking into his frightened daughter's

Eyes, Cocalus knew at once that the

First battle had been lost but

Conceded with a smile as his

Bitter mind was already scheming

At a plan for final victory.



Minos

In an expression of growing impatience,

The disapproving gods comment with a sigh:

"Must we be continually aggravated

by these shadows of a man

of stature and consequence,

now diminished into comic parody

by desperation and delusion?

The truth is that no one

Really cares about a star

That has lost its shine ..

A king without a kingdom is

Either a pirate or a buffoon."



The Scalding

The slow dripping of water

Upon blistered skin and flesh

Stages the final element of torture

For the deposed king as each

Drop threatens to erode more

Permanently all hope for

Recovery and revenge.

Melodic shrieks of agony

Maintain symphonic balance

Against the rhythmic trickling,

Indicative of the ironic horror

Endemic to nature's inevitable

Triumph over civilization

And artificiality.

Perhaps the greatest severity

Is the cruelty of mortality;

For chronology minimizes

Individual humanity with

Each passing moment.



Daedalus 4: Lament for a Dying King

It shatters me to see you

Lying there so helplessly;

Playing the 'waiting game'

Without judgment or choice.

Fearing life now more than death,

You transcend the impatience of desire

Through constancy of pain and

Resignation to the inevitable.

In a singular gesture of compassion,

Your pale lips force a smile

Which silences the teardrop

Skidding down my face; and

Momentarily I turn away inside myself,

Embarassed by my own self-indulgence.

Still smiling,

You take me by the hand and

Squeeze a bit of your precious life

Into mine, as if to say:

"I know … I know …

(we all live on borrowed time)."



Ship of Fools

Guided by the constellations

On a voyage to nowhere,

The shattered wealth of the

Heroic age is now overshadowed

By madness.

All blood runs cold

On this ship of fools;

And yet, the vibrant calm of

Heavens and sea remains undisturbed

By the cacophonous wails and

Shrieks of agonized men

And impatient birds of prey.

Verily, the hand of Fate

Is severe with those

Who are slow to acquiesce;

For death without release

Is Hades itself.



Daedalus 5: Eulogy

Beatific phantom choirs of deceased souls

Sing blood-curdling hymns of praise

In honor of Daedalus, who has plunged a

Silver dagger into his own heart

With poetic indifference.

The shrill tonalities of their electrifying

Strains split open the Mount of Artemis

With seismic precision, thus allowing

The corpse to be consumed within the

10-foot crevice without indulgence.

As the rapidly approaching darkness expunges

Temporal expression of irrationality,

Gentle warm breezes over the sacred

Isle of Delos cradle existence

Once again to primal order.



Epitaph

Situated on a hil overlooking

The ruined temple at Delos

Lay a mound of earth covered

With herbs and wildflowers.

Anonymity and olive trees

Shield the unmarked grave

From further disturbance

By inquiry over time.

From the beach below one

Can sometimes visualize

The crescent moon posing

As luminous horns of consecration

Hovering above the burial site --

A symbol of both the old religion

And infinity.

And reflected in the perfect

Scheme of constellations is

The haunting warning of an

Ingenious soul that will

Never rest:

"Ariston metron" …. (moderation is best) ….



Ad Infinitum

The legacy of Daedalus

Is a lesson in pathetic empiricism --

The liability to suffer is a concept

Borne through the fallacy of genius.

Whether he existed beyond the realms

Of mythology and imagination is

Irrelevant; through him mankind has

Inherited the irresistible urge for

Pathos through technology.

It has long been decreed by the Fates

That as Atlantis declined, so shall

Crete … and Assyria … and

Babylonia … and Egypt … and

Macedonia … and Rome … and ….

The carnage is reflected incessantly

Through this hall of mirrors that

We call history, for behind every

Great lust for significance lurks

A Daedalus.

--------------------------


C)
From: Francisco Gomes de Matos

To: Ada Aharoni





WORDS THAT FILL, a poem by Francisco Gomes de Matos, an applied peace linguist from Recife,Brazil

fcgm@hotlink.com.br



The list of verbal abuses

Our big human frailty shows

By avoiding demeaning uses

Our communicative peace grows





Instead of verbally abusing

Cordially let’s learn to speak

In place of insulting others

Let’s try hard to be meek



NO! to language offensive

YES! to uses constructing

NO! to language derisive

YES! To uses humanizing



Let’s not destructively communicate

For dignity we would demote

Let’s constructively approximate

For dignity we would promote



If the vocabulary humans use

As forms that communicatively kill

The education needed is to choose

Words that peace- with- harmony fill







On September 5, 2004, Francisco Gomes de Matos wrote:
To Beslan Children - The World Misses You
~~~
When you died
because of a war
Human dignity cried:
"Don't close my door!"
~~~
When you were killed
in acts of violence
Human Rights denounced:
"Where's the protection of innocence?"
~~~
When you were sacrificed
in abominable terrorism
Planetary citizens proclaimed:
"Let's create a new humanism"
~~~
Where peace and justice prevail
where differences disappear
where human beings sail
all waters without fear
~~~
where memories of you
will show us a new way
which will change history
your heroism is here to stay.

Please see here also Francisco's poem on Peace Patriotism.



Cheers!

-----



From: Francisco Gomes de Matos








What can PEACE be ?

A poem by Francisco Gomes de Matos



What can PEACE be ?



One day PEACE I asked

What can you be ?

PEACE kindly smiled

and whispered to me



PEACE can be sought

PEACE can be taught

PEACE can be wrought

But,alas, PEACE can be fought



PEACE can be aimed at

PEACE can be dreamed of

PEACE can be hoped for

But, alas, PEACE can be laughted at



And I eagerly insisted

PEACE what can you be

PEACE gently smiled

And whispered to me



PEACE can be your meditation

PEACE can be their mediation

PEACE can be our TRANSformation

PEACE can be HUMANKIND salvation





What can HUMANENESS be ?
By Francisco Gomes de Matos, an applied peace linguist
from Recife,Brazil


We are human
Are we humane ?
Do we ever walk
On Compassion Lane?

What´s humanely being ?
A set of values pure
Ways of humanizing
Making others secure ?

How can we be merciful
When others we criticize
Can we show mercifulness
And make a humane surprise ?

Human beings
All mortals are
Humane beings ?
We`re still so far !




PEACE THROUGH LANGUAGE(s) : A poem-plea
by Francisco Gomes de Matos

What is Language ? A mental marvel
Used for all kinds of meaning-making
But how to integrate languages
Into the blessed marvel of Peace-making ?

By avoiding verbal abuse
And aggressive acts of Discourse
So that our intended meanings
Are free from a collision course

Being communicatively friendly
In speaking,reading,writing,or signing
By interacting with persons and groups
And linguistically dignifying

For all languages to shine
Deep inside the human soul
Let´s promote peaceful language
A global,permanent goal

Assuring everyone the Right to Learn
Is a universal priority
Learning to communicate peacefully
Is also a vital necessity

Language use can be loaded
As a weapon ,some might say
Instead , give it PeacePower
As the true humane way

As language users, we are all different
But there´s one role where alike we can be
As committed peaceful language users
Let´s have faith : A kinder world we will see



E)


Copyright: María Silvina Castellano
10/04/2001
--------------------------------------------------..


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


SONAMBULISMO DRAMÁTICO

A tientas por el camino

va mi alma de puntillas,

siendo el temor el obstáculo

que sobre mis sueños

más se cierne.

Invoco, imploro, suplico

que se abra ante mí el camino,

ya que la vida, sobre mi ser,

se estremece sin importarle

mi padecer.

Sonámbula, por el sendero escapa

sufriendo lluvias y viento,

soñando encontrar el rumbo

que para ser feliz espera.

¿Dónde te hallas alma mía?

Que si te encuentras en la cornisa

del miedo eterno, del dramatismo de la culpa

desespero.Si decides irte de nuevo

a comprarte alas doradas,

te pido que a mi interior vuelvas

o de angustia morirá mi cuerpo.








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