Entre veredas blancas
que el viento gélido borró,
sólo las huesudas manos
del bosque prendieron,
del alma la memoria,
para que no se marchitara,
y del ayer el recuerdo.
*”POEMÁGENES“, (c) Luis Tamargo.
http://poemagenes.blogspot.com
Dear Readers,
Welcome to the blog where you can connect with the book authors.
We are a group of authors from various writing and social groups and now collaborate in this outreach endeavor. Find out more here. This is a bilingual blog, so if you encounter a blog entry in Spanish just scroll down a little and you'll find some in English as well.
Our goal is to connect with you, so if you know of book club groups who want to link to us e-mail us at editor@clarylopez.com.
We want to introduce you to new and established authors and for you to participate in our blog by commenting frequently; we want to know you.
If you would like to exchange links with The Book's Den please e-mail me.
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4 Comments
February 2, 2008 at 10:58 pm
El otoño, el invierno, los grises y el frío..su ausencia, mi amor, su no- estar conmigo…eso es el escenario que me permite, efectivamente, que no se marchite la memoria, el ayer y el recuerdo. Vaya paradoja.
Un abrazo
February 3, 2008 at 2:03 am
Me gusto mucho el poema y el imagen esta muy lindo.
February 3, 2008 at 9:24 am
…Así es, Eulises, estaciones de un ciclo, etapas de un mismo viaje; todas necesarias, ninguna sobra. Me alegro…
SALUDO: LeeTamargo.-
February 3, 2008 at 9:27 am
…Me alegra que te haya gustado, Ana Luisa: ¡Gracias por tu lectura y palabras!
TE SALUDO:
LeeTamargo.-