Denise Garcia. Anniversary of her birth. selected poems

Photography: author's website.

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.


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