Denise Garcia, Albacete poetess from Fuente-Álamo but settled in Murcia, was born on a day like today 1929. Graduated in Romance Philology, her interest in literature, and specifically in poetry, was early in her taste for Rubén Darío, Becquer, Rosalía de Castro, Machado, and Greek and Latin classics. But to celebrate her birthday there goes one selection of poems that belong to his work. To discover her.
Dionisia García — Selected Poemss
ALONE?
Blessed to know that someone is waiting for you
and will suffer your tears,
someone in the morning
join your awakening with a caress,
and has counted many times
the barn of your body.
Loneliness drives away who looks at us,
who knows how to share what we learned,
and with us he moves
to the same things.
***
MESSAGE
Suddenly, this afternoon, August two thousand and nine,
a small piece of paper appears on the table,
with only two words and an unmistakable letter.
More than a decade ago its author left us,
and now this paper so innocent
on a table with a different order,
and not in the home where she lived.
A turnaround of memories I receive at this moment
of the suffering woman who wanted to be loved.
He took care of us at that time in exchange for tenderness,
of whispers and affections, with repeated kisses.
He forgave our gestures and reproaches.
He wanted to travel to the holy places.
I'm sure you've finally seen it all
and his good heart encourages us.
Perhaps this paper is a gift,
a prudent warning, unexpected,
about us and our poor lives.
***
FRIEND
The long-awaited goodbye ends today.
Another stretch of life behind us.
You will no longer come by train to visit us
to try to say with firm breath
until we get the inexplicable.
Today destiny wants you to be the first
to reveal the hidden.
You will know the truth, you, alone, on the other shore.
***
THE PARADISE TREE
The paradise tree sheltered us
between the orchard and the house.
its ashen leaves
seemed to touch the crescent,
the firmament, so close at hand then,
and long live the stars
in our eyes of village children,
close to nature.
I remember the sunsets
under the tree and its aroma,
where one day they announced me
the delivery of the ark
with my mother's dresses,
who I didn't know
***
PASSION OF A NEEDED DAY
In the hours sadness crowds
for the past time,
for the life that I could increase
in tireless struggle.
These are the battles
of past and present,
without it being possible
fix what's gone...
Strong my heart attacks and dreams,
encourages the awakening to joy,
to the passion of a necessary day,
in another world that now receives me,
whom I love and fear, and makes me uneasy,
in which I drink sip by sip,
in case there weren't more.
***
SNAPSHOT
Arm in arm with my father along the graceful avenue
in search of the friend, that we finally saw.
It was sunny March and a photographer approached
willing to stop that scene.
Our long coats, the smile;
the elemental joy of existence
marked forever in black and white.
He presided over the gate of Alcalá,
with its pinks and grays on the stone,
surrounded by innocent atmosphere.
More than thirty years have passed
and I go through the place by car;
As I pass, the blackened stone arcades,
its insolent splendor oblivious to haste.
I am going to see my friend, old and alone.
It is restless spring, without a photographer,
and my father is not.
***
SHAKESPEARE HAD NO BICYCLE
He was a pedestrian of loves in Stratford,
Shakespeare did not have a bicycle;
raised earth eddies
in burning joy
to cover distances
and get home
by Anne Hathaway,
who was waiting, and offered the hug
to his faithful pilgrim.
Now the boys
stratford Lovers,
they are searching the road,
but there are no more signs:
were erased by so many bikes
that only the air keeps
memories intact,
live palpitations
from the heart of a young man.
Source: author's website.