All poems and recording excerpts remain the right of the original copyright holder, and no infringment is here intended

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

NEVER WALLS, WINDOWS ALWAYS!

ventana murano




Is it possible to exchange words with bricks? Is it possible to imagine a world without walls, with only windows?
The obstinate man's vision to build spaces for human activities, causing an inordinate ambition and tenacity to raze the green of nature and replace it with buildings as solid as rock, is an old history.
I believe that human life should flow like blood in our veins, like the wind in the mountains, as the free flight of the birds.
At least I try it! The worst that can happen is to sleep one night outside, but dreaming of a freer world.


NEVER WALLS, WINDOWS ALWAYS!

Never walls, windows always!
Do not try saving shadows if you can save suns.
If space is an abstract space,
and man is consequence of himself,
it is like dividing world
in a broken puzzle of thousand pieces.

Never walls, windows always!
Every brick is like a chain
tying hands and pushing minds
to an disordered chaos
... and unpredictable sound of the silence.

Never walls, windows always!
All you need is writing poems
instead of building bridges.

Debrah Riddleton 

Saturday, February 11, 2012

VOLCANO


Recently, National Geographic publishes a great photograph: A volcano in activity of eruption.
Immediately, a great sensation invades me by entire. The Nature has diverse ways for showing us its power, this through magnificent manifestations.
Whatever, this time my heart conducts me to believe that power of time is only one thing: The life is an image it´s coming of one past, unique and intransmutable.
I believe in the strength of that voice enclosed in the earth, like an advertence, like an hymn, like a song awakening in dawn.


VOLCANO

In the roar of your stones on fire
lies a cry that looked at the moons of the arcane
caught voice of a warrior who passes
as a traveler in a time that has never forgotten.

The fury of fire vents painted red
It makes us vibrate in unison with the wind
that brings your golden plumage
waking up to birds, rivers, skies,
painting the horizon of the future
recalling that we are only,
new sandstones of ashes of the past.

Debrah Riddleton 


Tuesday, September 13, 2011

DEBRAH RIDDLETON, WINNER OF THE FIRST INTERNATIONAL POETRY CONTEST, LITERALIA MEXICO 2011

Photo by Sussane





I have no words to thank Literalia Mexico, particularly Arturo Juárez Muñoz, for so undeserved distinction.
With great pleasure I reproduce the post that witness the event.
Thank you very much:
 

Debrah Riddleton








Post:  
http://literaliamexico.blogspot.com/2011/08/en-dramatica-final-debrah-riddleton-y.html 

Manifiesto abiertamente que uno de los motivos que me llevaron a fundar Literalia México, fue el probar y comprobar que el sistema de votaciones empleado en la mayoría de los eventos literarios, tiene deficiencias por su falta de justicia, de no ser incluyente y de no proveer de una ideología basada en el sentido apreciativo común, privilegiando las reglas irrestrictas de la poesía clásica.
Estoy plenamente consciente que mi intervención para determinar al triunfador de nuestro certamen, despertará más de una crítica, pero espero sean más las voces que se sumen ante un evidente acto de justicia y equidad.

A escasamente una hora del cierre de votaciones, el certamen estaba decidido con un ganador. Con los datos compulsados, y pese a estar tremendamente cerrado, existía un concursante que ostentaba el primerísimo lugar. Fue así que llegó el correo electrónico conteniendo las que se convirtieron en las últimas votaciones, reacomodando el orden y modificando con dramatismo a los líderes de la contienda.

Para ser gráfico, las votaciones arrojaron los siguientes números: Primer lugar: 671 puntos; Segundo lugar: 670; Tercer lugar: 653 puntos; Cuarto lugar: 651 puntos. Es decir, 20 puntos de diferencia entre el primero y último lugares.
Una vez superado el éxtasis de tan simbólica circunstancia, y tras deliberarlo asistido por motivaciones en extremo complejas, tomé la gran decisión de decretar empate en primer lugar, toda vez que desde mi punto de vista, un punto es absolutamente nada como para distinguir que una obra sea mejor que otra.

Si a ello agregamos que la distancia entre todos ellos no representa más allá de una visión de alguno de los jueces para con alguno de los poemas, pues según las reglas podrían evaluarlo entre 10 y 25 puntos, la conclusión se torna aún más controversial e indefendible.
Es por ello que, en honor a un sistema que fue diseñado para escuchar voces, opiniones y criterios de 12 jueces, de los cuales votaron 9, sin línea para nadie, con la transparencia de que cada uno de ellos conocerá a detalle las cifras finales y corroborar así que fueron sus votos los que efectivamente incidieron en este resultado, el cómputo oficial es el siguiente:

Compartiendo créditos en primer lugar: Debrah Riddleton (http://www.debrahriddleton.blogspot.com) y Vanesa Giordano (http://laldeadelalma.blogspot.com/), cuyas obras serán publicitadas en diferentes medios y en el libro memoria cuya edición ha sido confirmada.
Dado que Debrah Riddleton terminó con el máximo puntaje, se hace acreedora a recibir el obsequio anteriormente publicado en el post anterior a éste, y le serán enviadas hasta New Jersey, Estados Unidos, las cinco piezas que lo conforman.
Para ambas, mi deseo de que sigan impulsando la línea poética que las distingue; mi prolijo sentimiento de gratitud por la exquisitez de su trabajo, el cual lo encuentro limpio, puro, comprometido, vanguardista y lleno de sensibilidad creativa.

Para Ave Fénix (Seudónimo) y Alebrije_79 (Seudónimo), el reconocimiento por su trabajo excepcional que distingue e impone un sello de la poesía contemporánea que intentamos impulsar en nuestro gran proyecto.

Mi reflexión final apunta a un sólo horizonte, pues estoy convencido, y ahora ratificado, que los tiempos actuales gozan de nuevos vientos, de nuevos impulsos que la juventud actual viene imponiendo. El corte de poesía que llegó a la Gran Final, aunado a la calidad y tendencia de las obras propuestas, indican que el Jurado hizo valer su visión propositiva avalando el estilo poético que toca las fibras sensibles de los tejidos sociales, de la preocupación por mejorar las condiciones de vida de las sociedades modernas, así como un profunda necesidad de fortalecer la lucha contar el deterioro ambiental.

Al brillante y maravilloso Jurado, conformado en esta ocasión por: Alfredo Castelli (Argentina), Antonio Ansias Albizúa (España), Darío Falconi (Argentina), Elvira Alejandra Quintero (Colombia), Juany Anselmi (Argentina), Nicolás Barrasa (Argentina), Sergio Soler (Argentina), Yurgen Latier (Estados Unidos) y Zara Patricia Mora Vázquez (España), mi profundo agradecimiento y compromiso por extender esta visión de la cual forman parte medular, así como el amoroso deseo que se sientan orgullosos de ser artífices de colocar la primera piedra que formará la gran montaña.

Un aplauso a mis queridos amigos, poetas experimentados, escritores brillantes que hicieron posible amalgamar dos talentos creativos: el suyo y el que se está forjando día a día en la juventud moderna. Gracias por su participación desinteresada, la cual queda de manifiesto al iluminar de manera brillante nuestro certamen, movidos por su encomiable amor a la literatura. (Omito enumerarlos por temor a cometer una injusticia)

Finalmente, extiendo un reconocimiento a la Presidenta del Sistema Integral de la Familia, y esposa del Lic. Francisco Olvera, Gobernador Constitucional del Estado de Hidalgo, Sra. Guadalupe Romero de Olvera, por su gran apoyo e impulso a la literatura en nuestra querida entidad federativa. Asimismo, nuestro profundo agradecimiento al Sr. Lic. Pedro Liedo, empresario hidalguense, quien ha tenido a bien financiar la edición del libro memoria del certamen.

A los amigos lectores de Literalia México en el mundo, mi gratitud y compromiso de lealtad a sus motivaciones que nos inspiraron a creer que este proyecto era posible. Espero de todo corazón se sientan satisfechos de coparticipar con nosotros.

Arturo Juárez Muñoz

Friday, August 5, 2011

THE SALT MAN




How can we speak of a human being transparent? How can we refer to someone who has no face? The indifference masquerading as social concern is a wound that hurts deeply to all societies.

There are still human beings forgotten justices, dignity, the most basic rights; however, they dictate speeches to talk about them without even looking at them in the eye.

As a poet, as an act of justice, I lift my voice and cry for the dignity torn and full of miasmas that have forgotten the man of salt.






THE SALT MAN

Yet still exist!
Written about you, you have no name;
Your body is exhibited as an emblem lanky
a labeled destination beforehand.
Then you lie in your grave salt
as inanimate morning thistle
will be the centerpiece of lean oil
pride at the entrance of a gallery.

Yet still exist!
Your voice, if you had not listen anyone.
You have become reminiscent of an echo that is extinguished;
there´s no choir to collect your tragedies and your hunger,
your days of drought or carved into the lean face where you live.
You're like flake glitter converted to stroke;
You just have your stoic posture,
quiet, serene, challenging you to admire.

Yet still exist!
To no avail your wounds festering.
To no avail your bloody feet,
your bloodless veins in his arms lacerated dead.
What served the thousands of poems
who pretended to know your eternal truth?
The cretins who wept for you, their eyes
glowing, admiring a poet.

Debrah Riddleton

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

I´VE SEEN RIVERS OF LIFE

Photo by Leovi
http://lafotografiaefectistaabstracta.blogspot.com
What is life? What is this secrecy that catchs humanity? What is the shackle that binds us to this thread of life cut off by death?
Through understanding the many life forms designed by the Lord, a sense of majesty permeated my senses. How can exists life five thousand miles under the sea, without light, without apparent sense?
The marvel of the struggle to survive in such extreme conditions has allowed me to also marvel of man's struggle for survival itself.
The different societies trying to find a way to understand their purpose and be on earth, but their actions indicate the opposite.
Then binds me to try to understand the ways and byways of the tireless struggle and the scandalous failure of attempts for success.

This poem aims to lift a superlative man's life, giving it a sense of community and love all those who respect and love their temporary stay in this world.
Rivers of Life is a phrase that attempts, in my personal perspective, offering a more comprehensive term, richer in substance and deeper into their ideological concept.


I´VE SEEN RIVERS OF LIFE


Life is a stopped moment by a light when
You were born, and a silence into oblivion ...


I've seen rivers of life
spilled red by fire,
running in channels where once there were flowers
and trees filled with thousand nests.

I've seen rivers of life
where hope is born among horses
pulled by a dream, a land
that begs a seed, a tongue
licking the moist wind of fear.

I've seen choppy waters burst
into the hard cliff of destiny.

I've seen rivers of life
in the silent wall where the stones,
sigh and reflected the desire
silenced by the extermination.

I've seen rivers of life
In every voice, every poem, every verse
constructed from the clutches of silence
of those who have nothing, only ice
on the concave side of the reverse.

I've seen the gray froth of their wings
intermittent crashing to the ground.

I've seen rivers of life
there, where he was born a new man
a new attempt, an audacious sun
fighting for no to be coal in its own fire.


Debrah Riddleton

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

AURORA BOREALIS

An aurora is a natural light display in the sky, particularly in the polar regions, caused by the collision of charged particles directed by the Earth's magnetic field. An aurora is usually observed at night and typically occurs in the ionosphere. It is also referred to as a polar aurora or, collectively, as polar lights.

These phenomena are commonly visible between 60 and 72 degrees north and south latitudes, which place them in a ring just within the Arctic and Antarctic polar circles.[citation needed] Auroras do occur deeper inside the polar regions, but these are infrequent and often invisible to the naked eye.

However, this celestial event beyond our ability to create, to produce human beings, so majestic art exhibition because of its greatness in its deepest sense.
In this poem trying to offer a tribute to our capacity to wonder at an event of this magnitude subliminal.



AURORA BOREALIS

They call you phenomena, I call you essence.
They define you as luminescence, I call you omnipresence
They have seen you in the north, I see you always in my heart.


Omnipresent lighthouse
sieve that catches only light stars,
only essence.


Eyes that peeks into the abyss
of nocturnal loneliness.
Signal sinless perfection.


Daughter of the solar wind that poses,
with its orbit spirals,
in the quiet atmosphere of the night,
and touch the sensitive alone time.


Aurora borealis is your name,
I call you faith, love,
Perfection, caress.


Debrah Riddleton





Friday, March 11, 2011

RAIN

Many of us have enjoyed a rainy morning, some in the big city, others in the field or in the mountains. What about those rainy summer afternoons pregnant continuing to make us run and jump in the puddles in our wake.

I am m sure more than a smile flowed from our lips, the product of a wonderful moment in our hearts.
I can not imagine a world without rain, without the torrential downpour that fill us with joy through one of the most sensational cycles of life.

I hope that both be agree on some word, in any line of this poem, but if not, at least in some thought about this wonder of nature.





RAIN

In this poem I turn to God through one of its most beautiful natural forms: Rain.

Let me look you through your rain falls,
a single moment,
a flash of time,
and then, when it shines the rainbow,
I remember where it flows the light of a star.

Let me feel you through the fog that remains,
like veil of silk
blowing in the wind,
and then the breeze in our face,
tell us the secrets of the true sun.

River of life becomes in lights in the sky,
furtive diamonds,
audacious enchanting,
wrap me in waves of your peace, which,
if I close my eyes ... I fall asleep.

Debrah Riddleton

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

BRILLIANT MORNING

There is a phrase that enclose a great wisdom: “The life is itself, an opportunity that reborn day by day”

When the man irrupts in face of earth, the nature has evolved millions of years. Then, the drastic changes through the time had chance to fail and try with another perspective.
The flora, the fauna, the materials and their composition, were in constant evolution until the moment in which, the intelligence of man, appear under the sun.

Nevertheless, the panorama looks devastating. Science evolves into two opposite directions. The first, which aims to improve the life of man, but not the quality. The second, generating their own self-destruction.

It seems inevitable that every great discovery or invention follow a massive and brutal deterioration of the environment, including the health of humanity, calling it simply collateral damage.

This poem is intended to dignify the wonderful essence of a new day, which in its nuances of drama and natural beauty, holds a hope finding out a new and accurate vision of the role of man on earth.

BRILLIANT MORNING

Brilliant morning,
You unfold on transparent canvas,
shed in drops of dew,
perhaps to remind us that the water
It godsend.
Seven colors dye the lanes,
waterfalls, whole horizons.
Birds mimic your sublime charm
flying with majestic plumage.

Splendid morning,
ode to the hope of man
to awaken their new intentions.
Maybe never learn to discover your charm,
maybe never even be able to interpret
the wonderful sense of your sparkle,
but at least, fights against ignorance
in renewed attempts to change its destiny.

Debrah Riddleton

Friday, January 14, 2011

WHITE GIANT

The end seems inexorable. The blindness of men seems to end when We watch our own destruction. However, Nature struggles to rescue us of our destiny, throwing voices to envision that there is still time to correct the path.

Global warming, as one of the many problems facing humanity, is the enemy in turn. Efforts to prevent this, or most likely just stop it, are not sufficient, and in the indulgent gaze of the majority, We are preparing to fight a battle more outrageous and extraordinary dimensions.

Their manifestations are clear, compelling, but the punishment to our inability to reach agreements, is even greater than the tragedy to come.

This poem pretends to pay homage to what I believe is the ultimate guardian of our planet: The Iceberg.



WHITE GIANT

To this wonderful creation in extinction,
last guardian of a planet called Earth.


Misleading epithet, call you so, white giant.
Last guardian of multi grain called earth.
Diamond tail of the cosmos that threatens
reduce in dead dust what one time was golden light.


Your skeleton of frozen water, seems to crackle,
seems to mourn, yet drowning in the silence
your overwhelming complaint, without echo, without word


The threat of your wound is diluted, transformed into sea
In storm, in fury.
Nobody listens to you when you fall, sleeping giant

That smell like ice, turbulent rain.

Debrah Riddleton

Sunday, December 19, 2010

FRACTAL


Fervently believe that mathematics are the representation of perfect order, the sound balance and the divine presence of a higher order. Our daily life revolves supported by mathematical events that go unnoticed, but not so obvious no longer stand the man.
From throwing a stone into the river, flying on airplane or shopping at the supermarket, mathematical expressions come to life with incredible precision.
Felitzia Tornello is passionate about that magic. That is why I want to present a beautiful poem to one of many ways that mathematics has to be present in our hearts.
Clarify that a fractal is "a rough or fragmented geometric shape that can be split into parts, each of which is (at least approximately) a reduced-size copy of the whole," called self-similarity property.


FRACTAL
Snowflake is your nest. Image, illusion.
Your infinite shape moves me inside a world
where there are not lies neither falsehoods.
The man you called fractal.


Exquisite geometry in which I find
The true, indivisible, plain, unique.
You emerge like abstract idea,
more yet, remain like life test.


Almost nobody knows you.
They see you trough a transparent crystal,
but only those whom believe in you,
can see your divine eyes.


Poem by Felitzia Tornello

Monday, December 6, 2010

METAMORPHOSIS

There are many things change in life: The man, societies and religions. However, although nature has done so for millions of years, its processes are wiser, more understandable and keeping a logic that goes far beyond us.
Also, there are many manifestations of metamorphosis in nature, but the butterfly, perhaps from being so involved in our daily lives, it is my view, one of the most representative.
In this poem, I try to show my amazement so divine conception of change from a caterpillar to a butterfly. It seems that God intends to offer a simple example and wonderful than any human being can achieve through hard work, conviction to change their environment for something positive and proactive, as well as love and respect for their habitat.



METAMORPHOSIS

When I admire the transformation of the nature,
I feel myself more mortal, more fugacious, more inmaterial.
It is like to see the eternity resumed in one cycle
that oscillates slow and tenderly.

No words necessary to describe it,
and it is because there no exist.
Only one poem can describe it
and involves it in a word like divinity.

In the climax of the advent of a new way of life,
I remain in muting, trying to fill my soul
with the breath that exalts from the softness
of the wings whom are battling to reach the sun. 

Monday, November 29, 2010

ECHOES

My abstraction by nature finds an expression through poetry. When I learned the true meaning of ecstasy, I discovered an aspect of my sense of wonder, before unexplored.
In Echoes of nature, I attempt to establish that the man violates it, hits it, hurts it, and yet its ability to remake is superior to our capacity for destruction.
Most likely one day everybody will disappear from the face of the earth, and I am sure she will find a way to create a new life, and its echoes will be like the beat of a heart that never stops.


ECHOES OF THE NATURE

I like to listen to the echoes of the nature.
In silence, they are present everywhere
like wanting always remember us
they are there, perennial, intransmutables.


They seem waves of a sea that never stops.
They oscillate pendular and they attract my lost glance.
They do not cry, they do not moan, they only are there,
remembering to me that they are echoes of a past.


They are voices of the nature, that announce
Its presence for not to forget,
that the humans, we are of step,
and they, will be always in the dawn.


Debrah Riddleton