Claudia Lola Alonso
Born in Toledo, Spain, she is a teacher and writer. He has published with Editorial Celya the poetry books “Cántico en ellipse” and “Leonor de espliego” and “El cantar de los nomads” with Editorial Playa de Ákaba, with whom he has also participated with a story in the collective anthology “Things that matter to us” . With Editorial Pagine de Roma he has published several poems in the anthology "Reflejos". And keep unpublished books of all genres.
(from "Striated Women" by Claudia Lola Alonso)
That prehistoric female
honored the sun and the moon
storm or ice
and in the cave I suckled
While the waves of foam
in her womb they sought
flames mirror flames
between bison, fish and fruits
of tribal trees.
She had hair
with blizzards, traveling irises
and kisses on his brain
mythical as keys,
then affable grasses.
then it would be written
The rose of the winds
for the well-born
in reigns or empires
and for the slaves.
How much sleeping story
in beds with intrigues
or between baths of the rich!
But some women
they read and wrote,
they knew or touched
And what beautiful women the ancient
in river civilizations
and from the sea, the city or the countryside,
of the peoples of the east or the west,
from the desert, also from the mountains!
in silt caves with ledges,
its wings were calender or eagle,
caryatids that raised their dwellings.
The medieval rose in new eyes
rosette or boat.
The queen and her quiver with illusions.
The poor and unsanitary peasant.
A bastard girl who stays
lost in the theocratic pyramid.
The dark laundress before the abbot.
Long centuries will come,
long with epidemics,
long with feudalism
and with schism and wars.
The girl drinks water from a fountain
and she meets a boy who loves her.
Happy ending between unhappy.
The wind is the crusade and the castle
and burning witches
and the monotheists in clusters.
And the girl lives with her boy,
an artisan, and bears many children.
The king recognizes her on the street.
He gives you a bag of coins.
The girl is already a woman and wants to hear
to the king. It is the secret of the palace.
The heart of the world
in a textile guild.
And the girl lives among indigo wool.
Penelope in America.
And Mina in Europe.
He prospers in principalities.
Sapient among science.
Illustrate in the knowledge.
All of them women.
Would you dream sitting
that were to come
to other contemporaries?
She is called Twenty-Twenty-One
and he was lucky to vote one day,
for muse was born who did not die.
He saw imperialism and two world wars,
Fascism and Nazism hurt him,
from civil wars he got fed up,
and learned about planes and weapons and movies,
avant-garde and entertaining literature
prolific and of an oenegé it was made.
He cried with an atomic bomb and with fear
of exploited, touched the fallen wall
and cries before other raised walls
where are the stateless people going now
and how many flee from a soulless world.
With this woman goes every woman
invisible or strong, it becomes tangible
on television, press, art and the Internet.
He dresses in his own clothes and talks
with every language on the planet at once,
that of islands or Poles or of the map
of the full, high, low and medium future.
His pupils are peace with two aspects:
genes and being free by right.