STOP WARS!!

   Today, some of my pupils have read a poem of mine. The poem was "Tin Soldier". Two girls have said they liked it and wanted to copy it. I wondered why a hard poem like this one can move them to repeat it. Or to copy it. It is a sad poem. I don´t like to read it in loud voice, because I get touched every time that I read it. But they liked this poem.  Hope no more wars move me or other writers to write a poem like this "Tin Soldier". Hope no more children in the world live another war. Will it be possible?

TIN SOLDIER

SHOOT, DON´T STOP,

KILL, KILL,

a blond sea of wheat somewhere,

maybe it was her hair, I don´t remember

DON´T THINK OF IT,

POINT,

KILL, KILL,

maybe she had a look of gull,

waves of open sea in her smile,

SHOOT,

DON´T MOVE,

CAN´T YOU HEAR ME?

and a rhythmic walking even in the rush

FORBBIDEN DREAMS,

RUN,

SHOOT

even the elm asleep repeated her name

and an infinite voice of creeper

POINT,

FIRE!

KILL!

and an incredible laughs of crystals

SHOOT,

DON´T STOP,

stigma of the bullet behind his nape

DON´T THINK OF IT, DON´T REASON,

DON´T FEEL,

KILL! KILL!!

 (And the nuts of the cranium exploded,

  peace could not be more timely)

   (From "Cemetery of sparrows")

AUTUMN

   At five past eleven this morning autumn has come. It brought rain and storm. I have remembered how Septembers used to be in my childhood. I have remembered the sweet blackberries that we were eating in the autumn afternoons. Summer holidays ended and we returned to the empty desks. We got new notebooks and shoes. In the evenings, our mothers started knitting pullovers for next winter. We enjoyed the last moments of freedom and ate sweet blackberries in the afternoons.  September was always the best month of the year for me.

   Autumn has come this morning. It came with its golden and new light, and has made me yearn those sweet blackberries of my childhood.

VALLEYS OF GRASS

   We know there is a land beyond the land that sustains our steps. There are other people beyond here. We know that, after the blue mountains that surround this valley of fog and silence, there are valleys of fresh grass. People there are happy. Because they have everything: they have discovered that need nothing. If we could climbed the blue mountains, we could reach the other side. It would be enough. But we are caught in the fog and have forgotten the way towards the gorge.

THE FLIGHT

   If I could fly, I would fly over the houses, the people and the mountains. For sure. Nobody could take my hand. Nobody could see my eyes. Nobody could hurt my heart. It could be fine.
 But I am sure if I could fly, I would fly over my desk and put my feet on the floor. Just for the pleasure of realizing that I am still on this world.

GOOD EVENING

  While I am writing "good evening", another person is getting up far, far away from me. He (or she) is preparing breakfast. He (or she) is having a shower, reading a mail, kissing a baby. While I am writing "good evening" lots of children are working hardly for a small dish of food. Some of them are at war. What about you who are reading my words right now? Where are you? What time is it where you live? What do you feel? Are you happy today? Is it a good day for you? Tell it to me, please.
   Good night.

READING MY POEMS IN NOVALLAS, 28TH JULY 2011

   I want to share a video. I was reading my poems in Novallas, in July for the Moncayo International Festival of Poetry. Hope you enjoy it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D31Du1Km13w&feature=player_embedded#!

"The Grandpa´s papers" (a novel by Febe Jordà)

   A story about some old papers. Marta and her daughter Sara found them at home one day. They were written by Grandpa, during the Civil War.  Marta and Sara can´t translate them. Everybody says it is Arabic, but the matter is not as easy as they think.

   The story has very good ingredients not only for teenagers readers but for mature readers as well. An interesting plot, a good story and good characters. You will enjoy it, if you like detective novels.



You can buy the book here:
http://www.readontime.com/ROT/noufront-s-l--dsm-ediciones/febe-jorda-sanchez/los-papeles-del-abuelo_9788492726080.html

Afternoon

   September is my favourite month. I love the air in the afternoon.  Wilted roses are dying. It´s sweet and tender to watch them. They are a symbol of beauty that refuses to die. I feel sadness. A sadness of honey in my heart tired of living in this bright sunny afternoon.

Sunday

   I love Sundays. Every Sunday I have breakfast with my best friend. A cup of milk and coffee, toasts, and laughs. It is the most peaceful moment of the week for me. And I enjoy it very much.
  Carmen is always there for me and I thank God for a very long friendship between us.

FLYING AGAIN

    Nothing to do if sadness comes this morning and takes my hand. Nothing if I feel my soul tired of living. But my Guardian Angel is there, weavering a new pair of wing for me. I will fly again today.

FOLLOW YOUR HEART

   I have been teaching English to a good friend today. A dreamer who wants to live in UK. He always follows his heart. He has bought a single ticket. "No return", he said.

  Perhaps all of us should do the same. Let´s follow our hearts and let´s see what happens.

WHO KNOWS

Who knows the ocean song?

Who can translate the words,

the music of the air?

Who will talk to the birds,

who will believe in magic?

Who knows how to sing tonight?

(Unpublished)