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-blog Portal complementary NTC ... we ran ...
http://ntcblog.blogspot.com/ , ntcgra@gmail.com Cali, Colombia.
And those related to: http://ntcblog.blogspot.com/2009_10_11_archive.html
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http://ntcblog.blogspot.com/ , ntcgra@gmail.com Cali, Colombia.
And those related to: http://ntcblog.blogspot.com/2009_10_11_archive.html
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"The place of waiting"
Gerardo Rivera.
Poetry. Anthology.
Faculty of Humanities, Universidad del Valle
printing unit. October 2010. 286 pages.
Gerardo Rivera.
Poetry. Anthology.
Faculty of Humanities, Universidad del Valle
printing unit. October 2010. 286 pages.
The book was launched and presented the October 20, 2010 in the framework of PACIFIC INTERNATIONAL BOOK FAIR. V-16 , http://ferialibropacifico.univalle.edu.co/ , Cali
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14.0 x 21.0 x 1.6 cm
POET. 
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TEXT BOOK FLAP. Image later.
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live in a small bamboo and wood house, near Cali, after Dapa hamlet overlooking the valley and the tea grown in the natural reserve of Chicoral.
always write poetry night that is not dis-fetch and get happy PAGI-na blank.
At this time of stars, where are my cats? My two dogs sleep and breathe easy at the foot of the bed.
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. back cover.
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The world is miraculous in his words, but it is in a restful, as you know is water, partridges, leaves.
William Ospina.
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The poet Gerardo Rivera, with the wisdom of many years well spent, has elected five books of poetry: Throughout October statues, the traveler's feet gold, covered with leaves nothing , Previous to the gloom and The place of waiting. His verses us into the imaginary world that inspires them. Every poem of his, says William Ospina, is a kind of mystical experience made poetry. A poem where slip, with delicate metaphysical truths.
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The poet Gerardo Rivera, with the wisdom of many years well spent, has elected five books of poetry: Throughout October statues, the traveler's feet gold, covered with leaves nothing , Previous to the gloom and The place of waiting. His verses us into the imaginary world that inspires them. Every poem of his, says William Ospina, is a kind of mystical experience made poetry. A poem where slip, with delicate metaphysical truths.
Dario Henao Restrepo .
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"Here, at last, a poet who dares to be outdated, unlike any"
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"Here, at last, a poet who dares to be outdated, unlike any"
Edgar Collazos. +++++
FOREWORD
By William Ospina
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poetry rather than a way of writing is a way of feeling. So, long before Gerardo Rivera started writing these poems, and knew he was a poet, and we could live the fullness of his poetry, the richness and grace of his inventions disconcerting verbal rule that curious way with language on the vagaries of reality. That secret of the poet, as in ancient courts, they know their king and his valet, his Prince and choirmaster, his princess and that eternal wannabe dignity would not know honor. I remember a green evening twenty-three years, when Gary showed us the poems of Hans Hans, a non-existent and prolific poet who was dying in Belgrade. Had left a brief but intense work of which I wrote a foreword despicable fortunately today lost. Gerardo I remember when he returned from his trip to Hungary and evenings filled our woods with hardly decrepit pheasants and restaurants supported by the tremolo of the violins. I remember him with his curved staff of cane purchased in the markets of Budapest, walking down Sixth Avenue in the rain of yellow guayacanes another decade. And I remember the intense evenings I saw saw when he returned from Greece, and we talked about the white quartic Prague and Igumenitza docks, beaches where there was a Greek boy with an octopus attached to his body between the waters of a blue ink.
poetry rather than a way of writing is a way of feeling. So, long before Gerardo Rivera started writing these poems, and knew he was a poet, and we could live the fullness of his poetry, the richness and grace of his inventions disconcerting verbal rule that curious way with language on the vagaries of reality. That secret of the poet, as in ancient courts, they know their king and his valet, his Prince and choirmaster, his princess and that eternal wannabe dignity would not know honor. I remember a green evening twenty-three years, when Gary showed us the poems of Hans Hans, a non-existent and prolific poet who was dying in Belgrade. Had left a brief but intense work of which I wrote a foreword despicable fortunately today lost. Gerardo I remember when he returned from his trip to Hungary and evenings filled our woods with hardly decrepit pheasants and restaurants supported by the tremolo of the violins. I remember him with his curved staff of cane purchased in the markets of Budapest, walking down Sixth Avenue in the rain of yellow guayacanes another decade. And I remember the intense evenings I saw saw when he returned from Greece, and we talked about the white quartic Prague and Igumenitza docks, beaches where there was a Greek boy with an octopus attached to his body between the waters of a blue ink.
. Gerardo
refused for years to write something more than a certain ballad which he called The cow arithmetic, almost haiku ripples on the moon in the water of the moon from the water, and a busy preparing monologue of Lady Macbeth to Duncan reception in a castle with servants busy and crows, children picking his nose and demanding abrasive pots. In vain we asked other poems. As Adolfo Mountain, as José María Barrero, sealed their ears with beeswax from hearing the voice of the sirens fatal wreck invite the weaving deadly verses. But one day in Chicoral out to walk the misty mountains and apparently the sun came out and melted the seal of Ulysses and the siren sang. Since then, the poetry of Gerard also became poems, and I want to state here that every poem of his is a sort of mystical experience.
refused for years to write something more than a certain ballad which he called The cow arithmetic, almost haiku ripples on the moon in the water of the moon from the water, and a busy preparing monologue of Lady Macbeth to Duncan reception in a castle with servants busy and crows, children picking his nose and demanding abrasive pots. In vain we asked other poems. As Adolfo Mountain, as José María Barrero, sealed their ears with beeswax from hearing the voice of the sirens fatal wreck invite the weaving deadly verses. But one day in Chicoral out to walk the misty mountains and apparently the sun came out and melted the seal of Ulysses and the siren sang. Since then, the poetry of Gerard also became poems, and I want to state here that every poem of his is a sort of mystical experience.
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But where does the power of these poems, their intensity, the truth that gives us even more daring in their games? Perhaps it is true that truth is in the tone, in the calm intensity in the deep conviction of the speaker. If so, then over the years developing his skills Gerardo not literary writing verses without end, like many poets, but forming a world experience, an attitude of Eastern monk, the ability to stop staring at every thing , and everything found in all things. What could be the universe but "That river of doves and seeds that speaks in a poem, those voices that / Sometimes they are birds / Sometimes they are stars / And eternity / With his coat of light / that is beginning to jumping / cat / Your rabbit yawns? The world is miraculous in his words, but it is in a restful, as you know to be the water, partridges, leaves. It is full of common things taken from everyday life and caught in flagrante delicto. In his world through the gap / Moon / jump to the sky / cats. Gerardo to decirmos melancholy of everything that was enough for him this turn: Behind the stairs / is now yellow wood. Death To name just say it: There are people / sitting in empty chairs / furniture in the rain / I watch and not talk. To make us believe in a tender situation lost in history, a moment in the life of a medieval woman, builds these poignant details: Gudule Utrecht / the roofs of Liege / Do not get up yet / still have a lot of fog / In the garden and lawns Today is March 15 / 1273 / Remember / You have to go to market.
But where does the power of these poems, their intensity, the truth that gives us even more daring in their games? Perhaps it is true that truth is in the tone, in the calm intensity in the deep conviction of the speaker. If so, then over the years developing his skills Gerardo not literary writing verses without end, like many poets, but forming a world experience, an attitude of Eastern monk, the ability to stop staring at every thing , and everything found in all things. What could be the universe but "That river of doves and seeds that speaks in a poem, those voices that / Sometimes they are birds / Sometimes they are stars / And eternity / With his coat of light / that is beginning to jumping / cat / Your rabbit yawns? The world is miraculous in his words, but it is in a restful, as you know to be the water, partridges, leaves. It is full of common things taken from everyday life and caught in flagrante delicto. In his world through the gap / Moon / jump to the sky / cats. Gerardo to decirmos melancholy of everything that was enough for him this turn: Behind the stairs / is now yellow wood. Death To name just say it: There are people / sitting in empty chairs / furniture in the rain / I watch and not talk. To make us believe in a tender situation lost in history, a moment in the life of a medieval woman, builds these poignant details: Gudule Utrecht / the roofs of Liege / Do not get up yet / still have a lot of fog / In the garden and lawns Today is March 15 / 1273 / Remember / You have to go to market.
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Only one thing that Gary does not look and are the mirrors. Maybe that will give us the key to the tone of his poetry and the intensity they have in her things, ways of the world, miracles of reality. In this poem the human is only a modest part of what exists. Human is above all in the eyes, in sympathy with the footsteps of the cat that they leave a trail of beauty on earth, the tenuous counterclaims almost disembodied voice makes them the stars and God and chairs that never tired of waiting for someone to give them meaning. I would say just who looks himself so little with so much intensity can see the world. But not me who came to tell his poems. I know it is forbidden to add more words to the powerful magic and secret geometry in them. Shameless, I want to thank publicly poetry Gerardo has brought into our lives, the many hours that the language has been exalted in fun and passion in the company and miracle. And I ask for help from Apollinaire to celebrate the many times that our glass has been filled with a wine that shakes like a flame, the many times that the glass is broken as a laugh.
Only one thing that Gary does not look and are the mirrors. Maybe that will give us the key to the tone of his poetry and the intensity they have in her things, ways of the world, miracles of reality. In this poem the human is only a modest part of what exists. Human is above all in the eyes, in sympathy with the footsteps of the cat that they leave a trail of beauty on earth, the tenuous counterclaims almost disembodied voice makes them the stars and God and chairs that never tired of waiting for someone to give them meaning. I would say just who looks himself so little with so much intensity can see the world. But not me who came to tell his poems. I know it is forbidden to add more words to the powerful magic and secret geometry in them. Shameless, I want to thank publicly poetry Gerardo has brought into our lives, the many hours that the language has been exalted in fun and passion in the company and miracle. And I ask for help from Apollinaire to celebrate the many times that our glass has been filled with a wine that shakes like a flame, the many times that the glass is broken as a laugh.
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RELEASE.
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The table
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The table
William Ospina, presenter, Gerardo Rivera, poet, and Edgar Collazos, moderator -
A necessary book like water: 'The place of waiting' by Gerardo Rivera *
By: William Ospina
El Espectador . com Review October 23, 2010 - 8:00 pm
http://www.elespectador.com/columna-231105-un-libro-necesario-el-agua-el-lugar-de-espera-de-gerardo- Printed
bank Oct. 24. (Audio below)
bank Oct. 24. (Audio below)
ALONG A warm summer nights John Keats heard the song of the nightingale the secret of nature, the contrast between the transience of individuals and eternity species. William Blake advised to see the work of centuries in a grain of sand and the infinite in a wild flower. Emily Dickinson did not have to leave your garden to see eternity, the palaces of pleasure and splendor of hell. Walt Whitman said that the cow pace with the back bent beats all statues, honeysuckle could adorn the halls of heaven and a mouse is miracle enough to confuse millions of unbelievers.
For all that Robert Graves said that the most ancient goddess, whose mirror is the moon, gave to the poets of the deeper truths of the world, and made it less important in the hands of the foolish and frivolous, who plunder and prey that accumulate and classified, which grab and annihilate. While someone is feeling the mystery of things, the secrets of water, forests, darkness and memory, the world will be safe, even the demons are busy peddling their weapons and poisons.
And never forget a poem by John Milton, that ponders why he was given the blind, and which begins "When I consider how my light is turned off / before the middle of my days in this dark, wide world "appears at the end this approach to the fate of the poet:" Thousands of messengers are struggling to the earth and heaven to fulfill the grand design, but also serve who only and wait. " This could be the meaning of the name of this book that gathers all the poetry published today by Gerardo Rivera: The place of waiting. This book is the profound revelation of a great poet and a powerful poetry. Something
means the moss covering the stones, the violent light spends things that draw the wings in the wind on the ponds. Eternity, which is another name of God, not only produces and stars constantly puzzles: it sometimes causes a hand away the veil, a voice decoding the silence, a look that means the shade. The poet gives us new names quickly and closer to all things, reveals the pain that is in objects, there is consolation in music, stars in death. And a world where everything was overwhelming and mysterious is going amazing and sweet and full of meaning.
reading these poems by Gerardo Rivera felt that a new logic is entering the language, a more subtle look that opens us to the world suddenly approves a lucid smile, good becomes more skeptical and more evil refined. There is a naive conventional poetry and calls a spade a spade and spade. Here nothing is quite what it seems: the whole moon has a lower surface of blood or grass, every cat slips into smoke and stalking, every book is a laboratory of magical operations. Love covers things false names, stones want to kiss the lips of gold, love goes anxiety metals and mountains, delusions and mechanisms, and all curves in yesterdays home, and every room takes the base in the jungles and memories.
A book that can appear just yet old as the stars and deep as the memory. Everything in this book comes from a Geraldo Rivera accurate recall expands on stories but impersonal as it has rain on the roof. It reminds us that the world is full of walls of blood and hunger holds, and kings and powers that stand shoulder to much distress and pain. The poem shows us things we can not explain our philosophy: "Black puddles / where flowers fall tiger and grows. " There is in these verses a black fertility producing wonders night watchmen, jewelry shadow.
With books like this could ever sing and pray humans. Remember what it was when were still in the world those treasures of which now escapes and desperate fighting civilization: the silence, night and absence. Because these are the realms that guard the poet must, these things are seemingly unproductive that produced all these things seem impractical on which rests all the efficiency of the world. The poet goes in the opposite direction, is the great radical, and while all the fruit up to him down to the roots, and hear the mouths of springs, and feels that germinates in the heart of the stones.
The place of waiting, just published by the Universidad del Valle, 65, is one of those books are not written for everyone but for every one, no one will see in his poems as well as watching another. It is a miracle full of writing as old as Homer and yet so daring in form and freedoms as the clouds of last evening. Everyone needs this poetry to discuss with yourself and the world to once again thank, from the horizon of this age that nothing thanks.
* Note ...: text read the book launch event, presented here. ---
INTERVENTIONS
VIDEOS: Coming soon.
- AUDIO
*** Presentation by William Ospina (8:23 min):
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Intervention Gerardo Rivera and poetry reading (24:06 min):
http://www.goear.com/listen/7e777fe/poemas-gerardo-rivera
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PHOTOS:
Album:
http://picasaweb.google.com/ntcgra/GerardoRiveraElLugarDeLaEspera #
slides Album:
http://picasaweb.google.com/ntcgra/GerardoRiveraElLugarDeLaEspera # slideshow /
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Some photographs.
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+ + + +
PHOTOS:
Album:
http://picasaweb.google.com/ntcgra/GerardoRiveraElLugarDeLaEspera #
slides Album:
http://picasaweb.google.com/ntcgra/GerardoRiveraElLugarDeLaEspera # slideshow /
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Some photographs.
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Poet whole body and tie. . Sign
dedications in the books. . Signature
dedications in the books. .
José Zuleta, Gerardo Rivera, Alberto Guzmán Naranjo (composer and associate director of the Philharmonic Cali) and William Ospina .
Juan Gustavo Cobo Borda and Gerardo Rivera .
Gerardo Rivera (right) and Gabriel Ruiz (NTC ...) ++++++++
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used by NTC ... the invitations to the event.
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The photo of the poet is in February 2007: http://ntcblog.blogspot.com/2007_02_25_archive.html . Camera: Maria Isabel Casas R. NTC .... +++++
updated: NTC ... / degrees. October 21, 2010, 11:33 a.m.
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