Dialogue of the Dogs

Elcoloquiodelosperros

dialogue of the dogs 
 
Dialogue of the Dogs
El Coloquio de los Perros

 
Revista de literatura

February 18, 2019

Contributor 5: Khalifa Mohamed Selam

MOHAMED SELAM Khalifa is a special Melilla, a dog on the other side. He speaks several languages, although usually written in Spanish; He has traveled many places and lived in several cities to settle in a humble house in the adjoining Moroccan border with Algeria. There are self-sufficient in fullness, devoting the day to listen to the silence, to contemplate the landscapes, to live with his beautiful wife Rashida, cultivating his garden, milking his beloved goat, reading Sufi stories, Taoist, Zen, Ghandi, Krisnamunti, Fray Luis de León, the Bible, etc … In his spare time, he writes haiku North Africans as these.

I marvel at a mountain looking like an ant, the concept of large and small has disappeared.

*

The river has frozen dawn, children play trying to break the ice sheet.

*

The old trail has been overgrown.

*

The cliff is white, the color of the seagulls.

*

I listen to the monks praise God, suddenly, a bird sings and beats the beauty of the sacred songs.

*

A bird has not noticed my presence has entered the room running around the mat.

Contributor 6: José Daniel Espejo

DANIEL JOSEPH MIRROR ferocious feline is a poet. He directed the literary magazine Oh, poetry. He has won some regional awards, but it is still unexploded bomb Murcia truth, that is, without having done enough damage. Currently, he recently graduated in Philology, is preparing to be a teacher of Spanish for foreigners. It works where you can not feel a familiar drag and buy those books so expensive to TS Eliot, Jose Maria Alvarez, Vicente Gallego, Philip Larkin, Rimbaud and Kafka. A rare avis sweetly chaotic and messy, but, yes, extremely affectionate.

The Hermit

For Angel Gomez Espada,
Club member

Pongo TV
to hear voices.
I prepare breakfast
Special and say
I love you, uncle,
for real.
For my birthday
I gift books
Paul Bowles
and I get jealous
myself when
I go late.
Where will you go, crazy cock,
why not come back.
Also
I sent letters
like this
and a little kiss
when removing the mailbox.
As you can see
in my cave no site
for boredom
either
for no one
more.

THE STUFF THAT ETC.

From time to time, watch

the bottom drawer, the bottom

the cabinet, the laughter

sacred, insofar

Your holiness. And occasionally,

remove the colored crystals,

henbane magic of its box,

aim for the head of the wicked

and shoot.

Contributor 7: Light Ayuso

LIGHT Ayuso is a novice poet who -we have the honor-his early work presented here, but has already contemplative and irony capacity needed for this job. From Florence, where he is studying Spanish Mediterranean shore to the other, sends us for our doggy project, these barking in verse.

SUNSET IN THE FIELDS OF MONTIEL

Yes it’s correct

Death is the secret

as a plump puff

the skyline background

from which no suspect

at the end of the afternoon

bring us rain.

*

Questions

for the gifts caught.

A cricket at night

waddles its elytra.

Contributor 8: Angel Manuel Gomez Espada

MANUEL GOMEZ ANGEL SWORD is an acid pen and sometimes biting into the bowels. He has been awarded many local, regional and national competitions. It is a devourer of poetry and very selective when reading novels, like most of the members who are the Dialogue of the Dogs … Also he lost his love of song and legend Bob Dylan. This dog has a degree in Philology, a great literary researcher -who specializes in Eloy Sanchez Rosillo poet and his contemporaries, and has now embarked on the study of classical philology. That spirit Horace welcome him into their midst. He has, no doubt, a lot of blame in this project.

Unexpected visit

Do not come, Inspiration, this morning

knocking at my door. I do not want

see tearing down my temples.

I finish what I’m doing:

brush my teeth, put coffee,

study awhile opposition,

reorder some corners

of my life, full of dirt,

of fond memories, but useless.

Do not come up early,

decision not say, write, here

your best poem. If you approach now

by my room; I will cast out the window.

Today I have no body to poetry.

And yet, in this verse penultimate start, anxious to hear your laughter.

Look, you become a bitch, my friend.

THE AMAZON saddles

Come, Mary, come,

do not be afraid of a hunchback,

see this side of the room,

where the shadows cover my shortcomings.

Leave the light, Mary, come,

sit on my knees

and travels, submissive, the center of my mouth,

discover, small, what does my tongue.

Do not make me leave, wander

by infectos alleys of London,

down to the suburbs in search of your smell.

Do not make me go out, get you

in other dirty bodies, tasteless sexes.

You know what makes me nervous

no point in brothels find you.

Come on, do not be a child and see.

I’m sick of that idiot Jekyll

pay my bills. Tonight

I want to rest. On your belly.

Contributor 9: Villa Maria Talavera

MARY VILLA TALAVERA accompanies us with some verses that pertain to their unpublished poems Mar memory. The you can find in Murcia, where usually loiter. Poetry is part of his life, and it is reflected. Although it is student teacher, always he has time to devote himself to literature. Recently was a finalist in the poetry contest and Francisco Sanchez Bautista had the chance to appear on the pages of “Ababol” cultural supplement of the newspaper La Verdad.

They slipped from our ties

flowers dawn they saw us,

subject to the passion of a flaming sky.

A gentle longing embellished our skin

while he is wielding a sweet scent

in a sea of ​​memory.

*

Hear hear

the song that night,

music wrapped in fire,

on a fragile heartbeat,

and his voice faint.

Feel the echo of nostalgia

This darkroom

that after so many hours

still overwhelms us.

Contributor 10: José Luis Abraham Lopez

ABRAHAM JOSE LUIS LOPEZ is a greyhound of Cartagena, the ancient city where is born the port spirit of the magazine. The sea, the salt and windmills pierced his heart long ago. Has an impeccable resume and evolving, the proof is that your signature is included in the anthology of the writer Fernando Villena prepared for publishing Huerga & Fierro. He studied Library and Information Science in Granada, and now, back home, he wrote his doctoral thesis on the poet Antonio Oliver Belmar. He has published books of poems Poetry At ground level, impersonal affairs. Hit dice, his latest collection of poems, still unpublished in book form.

*

No matter for the years

oxidation of the strange times

It is not written in the lines of hand.

Had I known that love acts at will

I would never have promised discrete days

because dignity becomes increasingly

a more impersonal matter that does not inspire confidence.

Nevertheless,

I am seeking a return that did not want to want,

and I think the baobas suddenly:

perhaps because they grow upside down.

*

Also the cities

where he spent the first minute

encounters definitive

They are a good place to discredit.

Forecasts as if they were meant to be fulfilled,

the intensity of the accelerated green taxis,

again criticized the hours

they deserved lived outside of the cabinets,

not knowing that the night

a horizontal body is dark.

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