MPImage may contain: one or more people, eyeglasses and closeup Dearest  Ecuadorian Gods and Goddesses of Verse , thank you for birthing good poets, great poets who are made of the fabric of love , oozing passion  and  profound creativity. Thumbs  up  to  you  Alan Britt , a mesmerizing   and powerful  Poet  from Ecuador , You believe  in brewing  dregs  of together . Griots and Pen Wielders  of  Ecuador  ,the  land of verses, Your calabashes  of verse shriek  with  frothing brew  of metaphor , satire ,irony  and  your spirits.  ALUTA to God of Verses for   blessing Ecuador  with Poets .Viva  Ecuador  the land of words .Miombo Publishing  tightly hug  the great poets of this  land  and let  imbibers  drink  to the dregs   from this  calabash  of sweet  verses.  This bilingual Journal( English  and Spanish) consists of  10 Poets  including  master father  Poet  who  compiled  the Journal  and thank  you to Professor Gina  .E.Lopez  for  translating  the poems .  Viva Poetry Solidarity, Viva Global  creative Exchange VIVA! Gracias Ecuador Gracias!

AFRICA

(For George Nelson Preston)

Hungry, as in haven’t eaten for days,
weeks, belly full of scorpions
from insults hurled like grenades.

The League of Nations reincorporated,
but the new League of Nations has a budget
that doesn’t include my bursting belly;
the new League of Nations has bigger
fish to fry; meanwhile my belly full
of Aunts, Uncles, Cousins,
& distant birth parents doesn’t
qualify me for the neediest continent
on this planet.

Their vision.

Not mine.

Alan BrittImage may contain: 1 person  has published over 3,000 poems nationally and internationally in such places as Agni, Bitter Oleander, Bloomsbury Review, Borderlands: Texas Poetry Review, Christian Science Monitor, Confrontation, English Journal, Epoch, Flint Hills Review, International Gallerie (India), Kansas Quarterly, Letras (Chile), Magyar Naplo (Hungary), Midwest Quarterly, Minnesota Review, Missouri Review, New Letters, A New Ulster (Ireland), Northwest Review, Osiris, Pedrada Zurda (Ecuador), Poet’s Market, Queen’s Quarterly (Canada), Revista/Review Interamericana (Puerto Rico), Revista Solar (Mexico), Roanoke Review, Steaua (Romania), Sunstone, Tulane Review, Wasafiri (UK), The Writer’s Journal, and Zaira Journal (Philippines). His interview at The Library of Congress for The Poet and the Poem aired on Pacifica Radio, January 2013. He has published 16 books of poetry. He teaches English/Creative Writing at Towson University.

ALAN BRITT: Library of Congress Interview:
http://www.loc.gov/poetry/media/avfiles/poet-poem-alan-britt.mp3
ALAN BRITT, 233 Northway Road, Reisterstown, MD 21136, USA
(PH: 443-834-8105…EM: alanbritt@comcast.net)

OLD GHOSTS AND GHOULS

I’m scared…
I’m afraid to grow old,
to discover that I’m an old man:
a being
without any curiosity,
with all the useless and impossible opportunities,
with all the things already known and invented,
without challenges or defiance’s…
no eagerness to conquer death
resigned to be forgotten and lost in the vulgar anonymity…

I’m afraid to remain as a ghost,
a ghost who wanders,
who is banging his head against the walls,
without understanding the meaning of life,
a dark, embittered and morose skeleton dragging chains,
a ghost chained to his obsessions of sadness and bitterness,
grudges dead and missing…

To reach the old age seems more tragic than death,
I feel that being old is the antechamber of hell
if it is not yet hell itself…
I don’t want to be old…
I want to die with the illusion to discover everything,
to taste everything as the first day…

(Translated by Gina E. López)

Viejos fantasmas, y espectros

Tengo miedo…
me espata llegar a la vejez,
a descubrir que soy un viejo:
un ser
sin ninguna curiosidad,
con todas las oportunidades inútiles e imposibles,
con todas las cosas ya conocidas e inventadas,
sin retos ni desafíos…
sin ninguna afán de vencer la muerte
resignado al olvido y a perderse en el vulgar anonimato…

Tengo miedo a quedarme como un fantasma,
un espectro que deambula,
golpeándose la cabeza contra los muros,
sin entender el significado de la vida,
un esqueleto oscuro, amargado y taciturno que arrastra cadenas,
un aparecido encadenado a sus obsesiones de tristezas y rencores muertos y desaparecidos…

Llegar a la vejez me parece más trágico que la muerte,
siento que la vejez es la antesala del infierno
sino es ya el infierno mismo…
Yo no quiero ser viejo…
quiero morir con la ilusión de descubrir todo,
de saborear todas las cosas como el primer día…

Fermin H. Sandoval  Image may contain: 1 person, eating, sitting, table, food and indoor is the Director of Studies at the Seminario Mayor Nuestra Señora at the Diocese of Ibarra Otavalo Institute of Anthropology and the University of Otavalo. He studied the morality of theology (Teologia Morale) at Facolta Teologica dell’Italia Settentrionale. He lives in Otavalo, Ecuador

IMPATIENCE

Often, happens we are what we don’t want
Happens that when we don´t reach what we want
We sow in the garden, trees outside of the soul
To simply say we have them
To say that the important thing was to sow

Often, happens that we paint the house of green
At not finding turquoise in the nearest hardware store
Happens that, at wanting everything so fast, it gets lost
And we earn what it seemed to be.

It also happens that the sum of silences
It´s the sum of the unrealized desires
And we stop writing

Outside of the failures for finding what it´s being searched
We precipitate ourselves in the negation of the word
We anticipate at the time of receiving
We become cowards

(Translated by Gina E. López)

Impaciencia

Pasa seguido que somos lo que no queremos
Pasa que cuando lo que deseamos no se alcanza
Sembramos en el patio árboles ajenos al alma
Para decir que los tenemos simplemente
Para decir que lo importante era sembrar
Pasa seguido que pintamos la casa de verde
Por no encontrar el turquesa en la ferretería más cercana
Pasa que al quererlo todo tan rápido, se pierde
Y se gana lo que parecía ser
Pasa también que la suma de silencios
Es la suma de los deseos irrealizados
Y dejamos de escribir
Fuera de los fracasos por encontrar lo buscado
Nos abismamos en la negación de la palabra
Nos adelantamos al tiempo de recibir
Nos convertimos en cobardes

Ruth Patricia RodríguezImage may contain: 1 person, smiling, standing, ocean, outdoor, water and nature is a novel and poetry writer. Winner of national contests of children’s and youth stories. Representative of Ecuador in the World Assembly of Youth Artists for Peace, in the Republic of Bulgaria. In 2005 he received the Pablo Palacio award, to literary merit, granted by the Provincial Council of Loja. His works include: more than a dream (1978, tale), from the blue mud (1988, poetic prose and story). The balcony of colors (1990, tale), servant tongue (1993, poetry). At the edge of Clepsidra (1995, novel).Deseabulos (1998, tale anthology of the “Imaginar” Cultural Network). Impudica (2007, poetry). Writing is Formidable (2008, text of study for essay). Crystal Prostitutes (2010, novel). The certainty of omens (2011, collective book of short stories). The sea in me (2012, poetry). Formidable essays (2014, study for essay writing) to the left of the poem (poetry, 2014). Teacher at the Universidad San Francisco de Quito

DAGUERREOTYPE

Thought is an obstinate
compasss that pushes
towards eternity.

One´s voice aches for the pleasure of giving fragance to the word

irreverent man passes with his word
from time immemorial
his anguish transpires within the mysteries that this
imagination breathes into him
he comes back upon his damp remains
upon the blood that still throbs
in his aching
bones

he lifts his throat drunken with rage
and ruptures
all of his senses rear up
an old syllable writhes
like a fish upon
the crest of a wave of obsidian

the inescapable journey moves through the
cosmogony
with a hunger for knowledge

the pensive tone of the creator
the utterance expires and another sprouts and
another

An ancient jazz
comes to life between the pages of a book
the memory awaits quietly its tribute
to death
among metallic sighs

the banished eyes poke around the
accursed semantic
flow.

Where is the illumination of the word
where is the revolution of this age
that cannot
passively accept things

where is the cataclysm of memory
that ought to
stir us.

The word arises, it shows its teeth
with fury
it revolts
and spews poetry with its angels
and demons
on its back.

(Translated by Gina E. López)

DAGUERROTIPO

El pensamiento es una obstinada
brújula que empuja
hacia la eternidad.

Duele la voz por el júbilo de darle olor a la
palabra

pasa el hombre irreverente con su verbo
por los tiempos de los tiempos
transpira su ansiedad en los misterios que su
imaginación le insufla
vuelve sobre sus húmedos vestigios
sobre la sangre que todavía late
entre sus huesos
dolorosos

levanta su garganta ebria de furias
y desgarramientos
se encabritan todos sus sentidos
una vieja sílaba se convulsiona
como un pez sobre
la cresta de una ola de obsidiana

el viaje inevitable transita por la
cosmogonía
con hambre de saber se devora

el tono pensativo del
creador
agoniza la frase y brota otra y otra.

Un viejo jazz
despierta entre las hojas de un libro
el recuerdo espera tranquilo su tributo
de muerte
entre oyes metálicos

los ojos exiliados hurgan en el
maldito discurrir
semántico.

Dónde está la iluminación de la palabra
dónde está la revolución de esta edad
que no puede
aceptar pasivamente las cosas

dónde está el cataclismo de la memoria
que debe conmovernos.

La palabra se eleva saca sus dientes
con ira
se subleva
y brota la poesía con sus ángeles
y demonios
a cuestas.

Simon Guzman ZavalaImage may contain: 1 person, Guayaquil, Ecuador. Poet, lawyer and university professor. He has given recitals in the cities of Spain, Cuba, Mexico, Puerto Rico, Colombia, Peru, Chile, Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Bolivia, Uruguay, Argentina and Brazil and in almost all major cities in Ecuador. Has won national awards, among others: First National Poets Prize novel, House of Ecuadorian Culture, 1966; Only prize in the National Poetry Contest University, teachers 1982; and international, such as the Latin American Poetry Prize Foundation GIVRE Buenos Aires, Argentina 1982; International Award ABRACE, Montevideo, Uruguay, 2007 by his book GRAFIAS. Some publications are: “Dimension of a passerby”, 1973; “Anatomy of a shout” 1974; “Biography Circular” 1976; “Song of hope” 1979; “Songs of Fire” 1983;” Man Manifesto” 1984; “Lascivious” 1981; “Reconstruction of the truth” 1992; “Physiognomies” 1998; “Memorial” 1996; “Poets of the twentieth century” 2002 “Poetic Anthology” 2003; “The forms diluted” (poems of adolescence) 2003; “Traces / Marks” 2006; “Grafias” 2007. Her poetry has been translated into English, French, Hebrew, Portuguese, Italian, German, Romanian and Arabic

THE BOHEMIA

The corner where a eucalyptus grows today
used to be the cafe of our times.
There we lived nights, and a thousand and one
there appeared Aladdin and his bad genie,
there we were larger than destiny.

In the cafe across the street from this hill
we lived the most flighty moments:
like a phonograph without its trumpet,
much like an explosion of tangerines.

There I fell in love with your dress,
there I ask about love on napkins
from the wisdom of the waiter.
There I was until the dawn became day
until the dead were resurrected,
until Lazarus arose.

There came Goliath with his powers
and there David was born from our longings,
there souls fought and souls were made.

On this side of the city,
where the sun shines less than a minute,
was the cafe of our age,
that fed the hungry,
and gave drink to the thirsty.

There, where now grows a eucalyptus
that wants to make the sidewalk happy.

(Translated by Ana Blum)

LA BOHEMIA

La esquina donde hoy crece un eucalipto
era antes el café de nuestras horas.
Allí vivimos noches y mil y una,
allí asomó Aladino y su mal genio,
allí éramos más grandes que el destino.

En el café de enfrente de esta loma
vivimos los más pájaros momentos:
igual que una vitrola sin su trompa,
tanto como una explosión de mandarinas.

Allí me enamoré de tu vestido,
allí pedí el amor en servilletas
a la sabiduría del mesero.
Allí estuve hasta que el alba se haga día,
hasta que los muertos resuciten,
hasta que Lázaro levante.

Allí llegó Goliat con sus poderes
y allí nació el David de nuestras ansias,
allí pelearon y allí se hicieron almas.

En este lado de la ciudad,
donde el sol es poco menos que un minuto,
estuvo el café de nuestra edad,
que dio de comer al hambriento
y beber al bebiento.

Allí, donde ahora crece un eucalipto
que quiere hacer feliz a la vereda.

Xavier Oquendo TroncosoImage may contain: one or more people studied journalism at the Central University of Ecuador. He works with the Casa de la Cultura Ecuatoriana to organize and participate in readings and presentations throughout Ecuador and South America. Originally from Ambato, Ecuador, he currently lives in Quito, Ecuador.

I DON’T KNOW IF ITS BLOOD GALLOPING ON MY BACK

or the beating heart of death
that cannot find an exit and rips itself in front of me.

How I wish I could tell the difference,
but there are so many pills in my body
that I can’t.

Great-grandfather, if he lived,
would hide the last pinch of morphine in his drawer
–as the secret of a zealous pharmacist—
and the stars above the dome would escape at the sight of my lightness.

But who could have understood this pain of mine,
for life is irrefutable in childhood.

Great-grandmother in her coffin under the bed
came to speak about the darknesses we share.
Now I don’t know whether committing was a good idea.
The terror I carry makes words tremble.
If I ignore them
they forget me.

So much orphanhood–not again.

(Translated by Gina E. López)

No sé si será la sangre galopándome en la espalda
o el latido de la muerte
que no encuentra una salida y se desgarra frente a mí.

Cómo quisiera distinguir…
pero son tantas las pastillas en mi cuerpo
que no sé.

El bisabuelo, si viviera,
escondería en su cajón la última pizca de morfina
-en confidencia de celoso boticario-
y las estrellas sobre el domo escaparían al mirar mi levedad.

Mas quién me iba a comprender este dolor
si en la niñez la vida es algo irrefutable.

La bisabuela en su ataúd bajo la cama
vino a decir oscuridades compartidas.
Ahora no sé si fue buena idea comprometerme.
El espanto que llevo sacude palabras.
Si las dejo de lado
me olvidan.

Semejante orfandad no otra vez.

Marialuz Albuja BayasImage may contain: 1 person, smiling, closeup was born in Quito, 1972. Her published poetry works include: Las naranjas y el mar (1997), Llevo de la luna un rayo (1999), Paisaje de sal (2004), La pendiente imposible (2008), published and awarded by the Ministry of Culture of Ecuador, Detrás de la brisa (2013), honorable mention by the Cesar Devila Andrade Award committee and Cristales invisibles (personal anthology, Popayan, Colombia, 2013). Her works have been partially translated into English, Portuguese, Italian, French and Basque, and have been published in anthologies within Ecuador, Latin America and Europe. She has also published the poetry books for children Cuando cierro mis ojos and Cuando duerme el sol, and is co-founder of the Pubishing House Rascacielos.

MOURNING

After
Burning up my tears
upon dusk
aware that you are not returning
because your absence drowns both of us,
with fury I rupture from my skin
the miracle, the kisses and the music.

I let myself die
and my self becomes an abandoned graveyard
where our grim memories
start to disappear.

I let myself die
and I mourn in a corner
the loss of our scent.
Black pirate of my blue body,
I kill you
with the sorrow of angels
overwhelmed by eternity
and the anguish of that god
made of clay
with no more questions to
answer to.

* * *

A woman made of blood
that keeps us alive as her foodstuff,
and a dark entity that
never goes outside,
wander around the wine
and command us
to surrender our lives.

(Translated by Gina E. López)

DUELO

Después
de quemar las lágrimas
junto al ocaso
y saber que no puedes regresar
porque mi ausencia nos ahoga a los dos,
arranco con furia
de la piel el milagro,
los besos y la música

Me dejo morir
y mi ser se vuelve un cementerio abandonado
donde se pierden
descarnadas nuestras memorias.

Me dejo morir
y en una esquina guardo luto
por nuestro olor.
Pirata negra de mi cuerpo azul,
te mato
con el dolor de los ángeles
que están cansados de la eternidad
y la angustia de ese dios de barro
que ya no tiene más
preguntas que responder.

* * *

Una mujer de sangre
que nos mantiene vivos para alimentarse
y un ser oscuro que
nunca sale
se pasean en el vino
y reclaman de nosotros
nuestra vida

.

Gabriel Cisneros AbedrabboImage may contain: 1 person, standing (Latacunga – Ecuador , 1972) is a writer, journalist, and cultural promoter. At a very early age he moved to Riobamba where he grew as a person, and as a writer in this yet unfinished journey. Mr. Cisneros has published serveral books of poetry: Ceremonias de amor y otros rituales(1996),Ego de piel y Cópula panteísta(2003), El otro Dios que soy Yo y Ombligo al infierno(2004),Mujeres para Morir(2005),Peregrinaje y Raptos(2006),Para Justificar el Aire en los Pulmones(2009),20 Giros en la Pólvora y Otros Textos (2010),Mi Yo Malo 2012, y Pieles (2014). His poems have also appeared in journals home and abroad. GabrielCisneros served as President of the Chimborazo branch of Casa de la Cultura Ecuatoriana Benjamín Carrión, and he is currently Vice-President ofCasa de la Cultura Ecuatoriana nationwide

#4

Incited to leap by the glass at the bottom
they keep being spiked stars
… I let myself fall
I use up every word
Every instant of simulated oxygen
… hitting the ground await
alightly instant of universo
…….

(Translated by Gina E. López)

#4

Siguen siendo estrellas puntiagudas
…me dejo caer
Agoto cada palabra
Cada instante de oxigeno disimulado
…de bruces espero
Un ligero instante de universe

Luis Enrique Yaulema Image may contain: 1 person, sitting(Riobamba, Ecuador, 1968).
Self-taught poet, cultural manager, precocious reader and solitary by nature, its texts evoke an existential love, has published three books of poetry with some waiting time intervals gradually mature his poetic voice, his first poetry book “Theorems” comes out in 1996, the second “TRAVERSA” in 2005, published in Ibiza Spain and “THREE” published in 2011 under the auspices of the House of Culture Core Chimborazo. Lover short texts, has participated in several national and international meetings, poetry flies free woman dreams and in a nature as inspiring principle

NEW YORK CITY

Cultural kaleidoscope.
Blankets dreams and illusions,
from a vagabond train
to the elegant lady of Madison avenue.

Privileged space
within the blue sphere
where you can visit any place, any time.

Linguistic range,
blooms in a colorful spring
peeping out in summer
in the autumn black and white elegance covers you
later completed by a winter coat.

You´re the struggle —
spell that binds us, that anchors the boat,
whose port we are unable to leave.

(Translated by Gina E. López)

New York City

Calidoscopio cultural.
Cobijas sueños e ilusiones,
desde un vagabundo tren
hasta la dama elegante de la avenida madison.

Espacio privilegiado
dentro de la esfera azul
donde se puede visitar cualquier lugar,
cualquier tiempo.

Abanico lingüístico,
floreces en colorido de primavera,
ventaneas en lo descubierto del verano,
en el otoño te cubres de elegancia blanca y negra
para luego terminar en el abrigo de invierno.

Eres la lucha-hechizo que nos ata, cual ancla al barco
de cuyo puerto es imposible partir.

Gina E. LópezImage may contain: 1 person, smiling, standing is a poet, university professor and translator. Is a bachelor of arts in communication and marketing from the University of Sao Paulo, Brazil. Her master´s degree in Latin America literature was conducted at the University of St. John´s, county of queens, NY. She has dedicated her time to the teaching of Spanish as a second language at universities and colleges of this city and in Ecuador, her native country, where she is teaching Latin American literature. She is a founding member of the bilingual magazine “Entre Rascacielos” and belongs to the north-west chapter of the National Society Hispanic honor Sigma Delta Pi at the University of St. John´s. Formed part of the editorial committee of the magazine Hybrid, published by alumni of the Graduate Center belonging to the New York University (NYC). Her poetry has been presented at the Instituto Cervantes (2005) and the Americas Society (2007) both entities in New York; as well as at festival “Poets in New York” (2008), “The Americas Poetry in New York City” (2010) and “Manta city of letters” (2014) among others.

AND BEYOND YOUR EYES

And beyond your eyes
lost,
found,
recovered.

Your eyes, like your hands,
as your mouth,
restoration work in
memories.

(Translated by Gina E. López)

Y MÁS ALLÁ TUS OJOS

Y más allá de tus ojos
perdidos,
encontrados,
recuperados.

Tus ojos, como tus manos,
como tu boca,
trabajan en la restauración
de los recuerdos.

Victoria Tobar Fierro (Ambato, 1943). Ahe has published poems And suddenly (1983), victories and defeats (1991), Word accomplice (1995), The victory, rose and vice versa -Antología- (1997) and References since (2001), Poetry disheveled (2006 ). In 2014 she published her memoir “La Toya”. The municipality of the city gives the award “Juan Leon Mera” by her first book in 1983. She has been selected in several anthologies of Ecuadorian and Latin American poetry; Cultural activist, media columnist and literary critic. She is one of the most important figures of contemporary poetry of Ecuador

 

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