- List of poems of estridentismo
- Paroxysm-Manuel Maples Arce
- Song from an airplane-Manuel Maples Arce
- Memory-Humberto Rivas
- Stadium -Luis Quintanilla del Valle
- All of her-Luis Quintanilla del Valle
- References
The poems of estridentismo are characterized by the fact that they dispense with grammatical links and explanatory logic as tools to cause surprise, bewilderment or expectation. Among its greatest exponents are Manuel Maples Arce, Germán List Arzubide, Salvador Gallardo, Humberto Rivas, Luis Quintanilla del Valle, among others.
Estridentismo was a short-lived literary movement that emerged in Mexico around the 20s of the last century, as a cultural response to the social and political reality that the country was going through, in the midst of the Mexican Revolution.
Its main characteristic was its inclination for the urban and the modern, for progress, irreverence, anti-conformity and the rejection of academicism and religion; all this influenced by other avant-garde currents of the time.
Its main benefactor was the governor of Veracruz, Heriberto Jara, who, upon being dismissed by the federal government, made this current stagger and give early dissolution.
Despite its fleeting and localized permanence, this movement caused much commotion in the Latin American cultural world, producing much surprise and expectation; hence, the origin of its name.
List of poems of estridentismo
Paroxysm-Manuel Maples Arce
On the way to other dreams we went out in the afternoon
a strange adventure
spoiled us in the bliss of the flesh,
and the heart fluctuates
between it and the desolation of the journey.
In the agglomeration of the platforms
the sobs broke suddenly;
later, all night
under my dreams,
I listen to their lamentations
and their prayers.
The train is a blast of iron
that hits the scene and moves everything.
I hold her memory
to the depths
of ecstasy,
and
the distant colors of her eyes beat in my chest.
Today we will pass the autumn together
and the meadows will be yellow.
I shudder for her!
Uninhabited horizons of absence!
Tomorrow will be all
clouded with her tears
and the life that comes
is weak as a breath.
Song from an airplane-Manuel Maples Arce
I am exposed
to all aesthetics;
Sinister operator
of the large systems,
my hands are
full
of blue continents.
Here, from this side, I
will wait for the leaves to fall.
The aviation
anticipates its spoil,
and a handful of birds
defend its memory.
Flowering song
of aerial roses, enthusiastic
propulsion of new propellers, an ineffable metaphor clear of wings.
Sing
Sing.
Everything is
balanced and superior from above,
and life
is the applause that resounds
in the deep heartbeat of the plane.
Suddenly
the heart
turns the imminent panoramas;
all the streets go towards the solitude of the schedules;
subversion
of obvious perspectives;
looping the loop
on the romantic springboard of heaven, a
modern exercise
in the naive atmosphere of the poem;
Nature raising
the color of the firmament.
Upon arrival I will give you this trip of surprises, the
perfect balance of my astronomical flight;
you will be waiting for me in the madhouse in the afternoon,
thus, faded from distances,
perhaps you cry over the word autumn.
North cities of
our America,
yours and mine;
New-York,
Chicago,
Baltimore.
The government regulates the colors of the day, the
tropical ports
of the Atlantic, the
coastal blues
of the oceanographic garden,
where
the merchant vapors are signaled;
Emigrant palm trees,
cannibal river of fashion,
spring, always you, so slender with flowers.
Country where the birds made their swings.
Leafing through your perfume, things wither away,
and you smile and flash in the distance,
oh electoral bride, carousel of glances!
I will launch the candidacy of your love
today that everything rests on your throat,
the wind orchestra and the naked colors.
Something is happening there in the heart.
The seasons turning
while I capitalize on your nostalgia,
and all wrong with dreams and images;
victory lights up my senses
and the signs of the zodiac beat.
Solitude pressed against the infinite chest.
On this side of time,
I hold the pulse of my song;
your memory is enlarged like remorse,
and the half-open landscape falls from my hands.
Memory-Humberto Rivas
I keep the stamps
of the ancient hours
in the devotional of my memory
Behind me
the white road closes
like a tombstone
Silence
Let me pray while the wind
tear the roots from my footprints
I remember
is a rosary of crosses
for the buried days
Stadium -Luis Quintanilla del Valle
Horseshoe detached from a gigantic Pegasus.
Pavilions in the wind.
Flaming flags scream tricolor hurray
that drench the environment with light
Hip! Hip!
80,000 people, eighty thousand, with a single idea, with a single soul that covers them
like a huge black awning.
Hurray! Rah! Rah!
Shouts of combat.
Red screams of the winning teams.
Black screams of defeated muscles.
It is the feast of the body multiplied by air, multiplied by the sun.
80,000 people with child souls
mentally play ball with elastic bodies
of rubber athletes “made in Central America”.
And the judge who is an academic poet
will have to disqualify the Olympic champion
for having thrown the sun's gold record so high.
Olympic Games, for the child gods.
When will the Marathon of Ages end?
Those dying runners
maybe they come from far away, maybe they come from other worlds
There is one, blond, that seems to have arrived this morning
by the fragile bridge of rays that the sun has laid
There is another, Brown, that the springboard launched beyond the stands
and soon went mad blue as he lost himself in space.
Cuba, Guatemala, and Mexico.
Central American brothers.
These dynamic legs, these outstretched thighs, They are columns of the robust temples of marina.
Every runner is a torch, Quick! Always faster!
Even if the heart bursts and the hateful brakes break
of all records.
Throbbing breasts that make their way singing, like bullets.
I'll check all the timers to record the moment.
And then jump!
Get out of its atmosphere like screams and comets, with burning red hair, touching new worlds.
NEW COURSES.
Jump over the tropics. Jump over the sea.
Jump over time.
To live! To live! To live!
All of her-Luis Quintanilla del Valle
To Berta Singerman
Eyes
Eyes in ecstasy, cloudy and intoxicating like absinthe, the volatile wormwood of his green robe of smoke.
Soul.
Quintessential soul that perfumes and refreshes bodies, their bodies watered by its flickering spiritual dew.
Mouth.
Mouth ajar and tremulous that says ethereal phrases, phrases with wings of gold, silver and glass.
Body.
Sound body, vibrating all like weak lustful antenna, like a weak antenna that shakes the spasms of the message.
Hands.
Sharp and livid hands, like long burning nails, nails that flutter like rose petals.
Arms.
Chaste and naked arms that lengthen and lose, that lengthen and lose like shadows and sighs.
Front.
Wide forehead, limpid, bright and placid, placid like frozen marble from the tombs.
All of her
It's meat.
Punished meat.
Meat that sings and groans.
Sick of spirit flesh.
Freaked out meat.
ALL OF IT
is soul.
Cosmic soul.
Musical soul.
Soul that warms and illuminates.
Fluid soul that slips from the fingers of the hand, and leaves no more trace than a fragile trail
vertical.
References
- Stridentism. Recovered from es.wikipedia.org.
- Literary Vanguards in Latin America. Recovered from sites.google.com.
- Stridentism: the literary avant-garde in Mexico. Recovered from elem.mx.
- José Manuel Prieto González (2011). Mexican stridentism and its construction of the modern city through poetry and painting. Recovered from ub.edu.
- Paroxysm. Recovered from poems-del-alma.com.
- Song from an airplane. Recovered from poeticas.es.
- The traveler at the vertex. Recovered from bitacoradetravesia.wordpress.com.
- Saudade. Recovered from poetaspoemas.com.