Textere

Literature, Love, Poesía, Poetry, Writing
The verb textere means to weave. 

Find me here dear reader, 
industrious like Penelope
in my repetitive intent 
to produce a composition 
weaving words, words, 
and more words.
I do and undo
not awaiting for my Odysseus,
but for the inspiration 
to exalt in rhyme
the most noble sentiment 
that grants meaning to our 
human existence: 
love. 

Poetry is a tapestry of words.
La Poesía es un tapiz de palabras.

Poetry is a tapestry of words.

La poesía es un tapiz de palabras.

El verbo textere significa tejer. 

Aquí me encuentras querido lector, 
laborando como Penélope
en el intento repetitivo 
de producir una composición 
tejiendo palabras, palabras, 
y m√°s palabras. 
Hago y deshago,
no esperando a mi Odiseo
pero a la inspiración 
para exaltar en rima
a ese sentimiento tan noble 
que le da significado a nuestra 
existencia humana:
el amor. 

INSTAGRAM STORIES @marlaswordplay

Greek Weavers

All this talk about Penelope made me think of Greece. Here are two old pictures from my travels.

The Acropolis

Also, as it regards to Penelope, here is the link to a poem I got published at the beginning of the Pandemic in 2020. My poem is #7 in the series and it is titled YARN. Thank you for reading. M.

Charcoal РCarbón

Book, In Love, Literature, Love, Poesía, Poetry, Romance

The lovers Cl√©lia Conti and Fabrice del Dongo, in The Charterhouse of Parma, exchanged secret love messages. He would spell out his “I love you” on the palm of his hand with charcoal and then she would reply in song while playing the piano. Awww, love, wether the relationship is legitimate of not, love is stronger than man-made laws.

The fascinating

language of lovers

is codified and

undecipherable by others.


The inside jokes,

the minor gestures,

the words with hidden significance

and

the exchange of thoughts at mere sight.


Oh what a thrill!


Are you fluent in such a language,

lost in translation, 

or even worse,

are you monolingual?


Oh, the horror,

go on, get out there,

let your tongue lose

and find an instructor.


Don't delay!

Los amantes Cl√©lia Conti y Fabrice del Dongo, en La Cartuja de Parma, intercambiaban mensajes secretos de amor. El le deletreaba sus “Te amo” en la palma de su mano con carb√≥n y despu√©s ella le contestaba con una canci√≥n mientras tocaba el piano. Ah, el amor, ya sea una relaci√≥n leg√≠tima o no, el amor es m√°s fuerte que cualquier ley hecha por el hombre.

El fascinante

idioma de los amantes

est√° codificado y

es indescifrable por otros.


Las broman íntimas,

los gestos discretos,

las palabras con otro significado,

y

el intercambio de pensamientos al mirarse. 


¡O, qué emoción!


¬ŅHablas con fluidez tal idioma,

te pierdes en la interpretación,

o peor,

eres monoling√ľe?


O no, qué horror,

anda, ve, sale,

suelta tu lengua

y encuentra un instructor.


¬°Apres√ļrate! 

Instagram Stories @marlaswordplay


The right song for this. La canció correcta para esto.

Duality – Dualidad*

Experimental, Literature, Poesía, Poetry, Winter

Dualidad

Le amé 
calladamente un invierno
tibio mi corazón
rojo de una obsesión 
insaciable por su provocación
impetuosa me dejó
vacilando entro lo que era
y lo que podría ser.

Esa cruel dualidad 
poseída de un abismo 
extendido entre un sí y
un no me causó 
dudar. 

O perversa tentación. 
Le amé calladamente
un invierno blanco
mi corazón rojo
de una obsesión insaciable
por su provocación impetuosa
me dejó vacilando 
entre lo que era
y lo que podría ser.

Esa cruel dualidad poseída
de un amplio abismo extendido 
entre un sí y un no
me causó dudar.

O perversa tentación.

Duality

I loved him 
quietly one winter
white my heart
red with infatuation
due to his impetuous
provocation l
vacillated between
what it was and
what it could be. 

Cruel duality
possessed of a wide abyss
extending between a yes
and a no making me
doubt. 

Oh, perverse temptation. 
I loved him quietly
one winter white
my heart red with infatuation
due to his impetuous provocation
I vacillated between what it was
and what it could be.

Cruel duality possessed
of a wide abyss extending 
between a yes
and a no
making me doubt. 

Oh, perverse temptation.

INSTAGRAM STORIES @marlaswordplay

*I have learned writing does not have to be autobiographical to be written. Based on my learning about Shakespeare’s Sonnets and the structure of one of my favourite poems, “I saw a Peacock with a fiery tail,” I was inspired to write the above experimental poem. Thank you for reading.

He aprendido que la escritura no debe de ser autobiogr√°fica para ser escrita. Basado en mi aprendizaje sobre los Sonetos de Shakespeare y la estructura de uno de mis poemas favoritos, me he inspirado a escribir esta poema experimental. Gracias por leer.

“For most of history, Anonymous was a woman.”

Virginia Woolf