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 And keep unpublished books of all genres.

Colored pronouns

They flooded orange
between wagons and sidewalks
the theater of this world
and music
that lights up ivy faces
of passersby and battlements
of the blocks
of cities, antennas
and lightning rods and routes
between overlapping planes,
that with smoke rises
they snuggle
in aerial perspectives.


And you? Every afternoon
they sew time with threads
of wives and lovers.
Meanwhile, the sunsets
from their aprons they go
to the distant sea, that
sea ​​of ​​tangos
and open for the first time
to love evoked and true.
Her felt slippers
they sleep under thalamus
with chores ink
and the glow of their hugs.

You of dark waves
found behind the patera
of the nights,
with bulging bellies,
between expired saliva
of how many did not tell,
with the traps of the mafias
and with rejection,
tell me: what will it house
every year?
You carry saltpetre on your legs,
and poor algae
and guilt of institutions
on your epic backs.

Us apple green
of friendship without armor
like the stars
celestial, that do not contemplate
the cracks between planets
of its many galaxies,
only its lofty forms,
only telluric forces
of their cores and crusts,
we have tied
reeds and wheat in braids,
and streams of hunger
happy with the flows
of balance penetrating
in more channels and banks.


You in purple or indigo,
choose to let live
and live, do it right
and often,
and do not fear, leave
of sadness,
of the complexes too,
give yourself smiles,
by yourself and by going
with yours
to the orchards,
to the parties,
to truces,
with whispers
of beings who want to see
the projects of their languages.


She, red in her silence,
no girlfriend or no partner,
in your waiting
of the shared heart
in couple,
speaks with sane moans,
with bars from his cell,
but the bars sing
and the moans and a kiss
the whole runs through it,
they carry their mouth and their breasts
of patience,
for love is its sphere.
You, color of light, reciprocal,
the fighter
day after day,
in front of the lions
of power and its legions
and everything that oppresses,
for defending joy,
for facing dragons
who do not understand your zither,
you treasure well
every touch
of the ages of life.


I work without work,
olive color my eyes,
laugh color my lap,
I have an old poplar
and loves on the roof,
and my precious lineage
and in the rooms
of my being I design paintings
and books. Among gazelles
jumping I look at the crops
next to sidewalks
prolonged heart
and I'm wearing
in the soul the loving
union of rings larks,
like innocence
of love that summons love.

With you and with me I go
me, your sister.
I give myself to you and in me I am
pulp of our pomegranates
old and new
bequeathed by the adventures
of stone women,
of anxiety or happiness.
And grenades are my peace.


For yes he wants the Earth
his feminine half
of lips, eyes and prints.
Let no one ignore it anymore!


Let no one offer torment
and all life be salt
in mouths that love burning
with goodness, true color!

Claudia   Lola Alonso

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