lunes, mayo 16, 2011

Sunday Poem: I am a hostage in Gedachten in gedichten

Thanks for the publication of my poem "I am a hostage" which is in the company of the great writer Edwidge Danticat in the wonderful Blog: Gedachten in gedichten

Sunday Poem: Tourist

Edwidge Danticat 3 By Edwidge Danticat


Tourist, don’t take my picture
Don’t take my picture, tourist
I’m too ugly
Too dirty
Too skinny
Don’t take my picture, white man
Mr. Eastman won’t be happy
I’m too ugly
Your camera will break
I’m too dirty
Too black
Whites like you won’t be content
I’m too ugly
I’m gonna crack your Kodak
Don’t take my picture, tourist
Leave me be, white man
Don’t take a picture of my burro
My burro’s load’s too heavy
And he’s too small
And he has no food here
Don’t take a picture of my animal
Tourist, don’t take a picture of the house
My house is of straw
Don’t take a picture of my hut
My hut’s made of earth
The house already smashed up
Go shoot a picture of the Palace
Or the Bicentennial grounds
Don’t take a picture of my garden
I have no plow
No truck
No tractor
Don’t take a picture of my tree
Tourist, I’m barefoot
My clothes are torn as well
Poor people don’t look at whites
But look at my hair, tourist
Your Kodak’s not used to my color
Your barber’s not used to my hair
Tourist, don’t take my picture
You don’t understand my position
You don’t understand anything
About my business, tourist
“Gimme fie cents”
And then, be on your way, tourist.


Sunday Poem: I am a hostage

Yolanda Arroyo Pizarro By Yolanda Arroyo Pizarro

(from Saeta, the poems – an unpublished book)

mandigos took my group
upbeat rhythmic drum playing
my running is hurting my feet
an escapade
that ends with a net over my head
over my agitated body
they marked my fatigued arms
marcada por siempre con hierro
prohibit us to look the sky
proscribe the smell of my forest
my yellow flowers
I can’t touch the cachetes of my people
until we arrived at the boat
the dark clouds are forbidden
the sweet lake water is banned
until we enter the great canoe
no one is touching my face
I miss my face
my tears
nobody is caressing my arms
nor my hands
brothers are crying all night
asking for mamma
they told us we have a new name
new slave names

Link: http://quitonicolaas.web-log.nl/gedachten_in_gedichten/

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"Odio los fluidos que se me salen del cuerpo cada veintiséis días." Yolanda Arroyo Pizarro (Guaynabo, 1970). Es novelista, cuentista y ensayista puertorriqueña. Fue elegida una de las escritoras latinoamericanas más importantes menores de 39 años del Bogotá39 convocado por la UNESCO, el Hay Festival y la Secretaría de Cultura de Bogotá por motivo de celebrar a Bogotá como Capital Mundial del libro 2007. Acaba de recibir Residency Grant Award 2011 del National Hispanic Cultural Center en Nuevo México. Es autora de los libros de cuentos, ‘Avalancha’ (2011), ‘Historias para morderte los labios’ (Finalista PEN Club 2010), y ‘Ojos de Luna’ (Segundo Premio Nacional 2008, Instituto de Literatura Puertorriqueña; Libro del Año 2007 Periódico El Nuevo Día), además de los libros de poesía ‘Medialengua’ (2010) y Perseidas (2011). Ha publicado las novelas ‘Los documentados’ (Finalista Premio PEN Club 2006) y Caparazones (2010, publicada en Puerto Rico y España).

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