tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29243160823859249862012-01-27T18:12:43.942-03:00"Los santos y los sabios establecieron las imágenes con el fin de expresar totalmente sus pensamientos; representaron signos con el fin de expresar totalmente lo verdadero y lo falso. Luego agregaron además juicios y así pudieron expresar sus palabras totalmente" I CHING Ta Chuan - Cap. XIIJorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.comBlogger7591100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-6015236322170465102012-01-27T18:09:00.002-03:002012-01-27T18:12:43.948-03:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--lv1CvnR-KA/TyMS--EzupI/AAAAAAAABug/n_VDVQWszuA/s1600/IMG_0572.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 215px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--lv1CvnR-KA/TyMS--EzupI/AAAAAAAABug/n_VDVQWszuA/s320/IMG_0572.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702422426205534866" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span >...Si cada puente hablara; </span></div><div><span >Si hablaran los parques, las plantas, las flores; </span></div><div><span >Si cada trozo de pavimento hablara, </span></div><div><span >Hablarían en Español... </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Luis Alberto Ambroggio </span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-601523632217046510?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-15497281887420051852012-01-27T18:02:00.004-03:002012-01-27T18:07:30.680-03:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0-MDCWd6J40/TyMRgRSgUSI/AAAAAAAABuU/1jUYl9bem44/s1600/IMG_0525-1.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0-MDCWd6J40/TyMRgRSgUSI/AAAAAAAABuU/1jUYl9bem44/s320/IMG_0525-1.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702420799275684130" /></a><br /><br /><div><div><span >...¡Qué buen serrano en la sierra! </span></div><div><span >¡Qué blando con las espigas! </span></div><div><span >¡Qué duro con las espuelas! </span></div><div><span >¡Qué tierno con el rocío!... </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Federico García Lorca</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-1549728188742005185?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-50282943876701314142012-01-27T17:55:00.003-03:002012-01-27T18:00:26.285-03:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RXb1ECyoz2M/TyMP9-RTPGI/AAAAAAAABt8/FDVyEb96e_s/s1600/IMG_2922.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 230px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RXb1ECyoz2M/TyMP9-RTPGI/AAAAAAAABt8/FDVyEb96e_s/s320/IMG_2922.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702419110543178850" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span >...Sí. Miradme a los versos. No os engaño. </span></div><div><span >Tengo el sombrío bosque de la frente </span></div><div><span >esperando que llueva; </span></div><div><span >mientras, el alma suena bajo el puente... </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Manuel Alcantara</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-5028294387670131414?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-13861718274555234852012-01-27T17:51:00.002-03:002012-01-27T17:55:00.069-03:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7cqyhtEE9VE/TyMOvAlHyzI/AAAAAAAABtw/9qzHTLo2fnc/s1600/IMG_3082.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 243px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7cqyhtEE9VE/TyMOvAlHyzI/AAAAAAAABtw/9qzHTLo2fnc/s320/IMG_3082.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702417753953520434" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span >...se arrastran los inviernos, </span></div><div><span >la espiga se calcina </span></div><div><span >y los racimos trémulos </span></div><div><span >en que el amor palpita </span></div><div><span >se secan como ubres </span></div><div><span >que la aridez maldice... </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Juan Rejano</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-1386171827455523485?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-74126729263322667292012-01-27T17:47:00.002-03:002012-01-27T17:51:01.538-03:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-akn4zCX9i90/TyMNzSUwEBI/AAAAAAAABtk/dhEgSZKdqMQ/s1600/IMG_2586.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 211px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-akn4zCX9i90/TyMNzSUwEBI/AAAAAAAABtk/dhEgSZKdqMQ/s320/IMG_2586.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702416727924543506" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span >...Nunca como las aves, </span></div><div><span >como aquellos vencejos que dan giros </span></div><div><span >en el atardecer y llevan </span></div><div><span >para anidar, para incubar su puesta, </span></div><div><span >un respaldo de sol o piedra dura. </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Es nuestra vida, como </span></div><div><span >ese ventico gris de la mañana. </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Jesus Hilario Tundidor </span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-7412672926332266729?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-8634676507253629292012-01-27T17:45:00.000-03:002012-01-27T17:47:02.804-03:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U3xNxjKqI90/TyMNGYLZFsI/AAAAAAAABtY/N6uzNcE8mJo/s1600/IMG_7109-1.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U3xNxjKqI90/TyMNGYLZFsI/AAAAAAAABtY/N6uzNcE8mJo/s320/IMG_7109-1.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702415956401788610" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span >...Pero vino el Hada que era su madrina, </span></div><div><span >le trajo un vestido de encaje y crespones, </span></div><div><span >le hizo un coche de oro de una calabaza, </span></div><div><span >convirtió en caballos unos seis ratones... </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >José Asunción Silva </span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-863467650725362929?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-60396741965940702452012-01-27T17:33:00.002-03:002012-01-27T17:44:51.837-03:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5z1E6axKOaM/TyML308XXzI/AAAAAAAABtM/towAeIjItMw/s1600/IMG_5586.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 222px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5z1E6axKOaM/TyML308XXzI/AAAAAAAABtM/towAeIjItMw/s320/IMG_5586.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702414606913724210" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div><span >...Como esta tierra puesta </span></div><div><span >al sol, al aire, a la mañana. </span></div><div><span >Es nuestra vida, </span></div><div><span >Mas, ¿quién llueve, quién es el que deshace </span></div><div><span >la esperanza de junio?... </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Jesus Hilario Tundidor</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-6039674196594070245?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-2024025623413684892012-01-27T15:20:00.001-03:002012-01-27T15:22:19.117-03:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0y8WDdkRVnk/TyLrSdyXJ-I/AAAAAAAABtA/zWIQb6o6Uf4/s1600/IMG_5066.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 224px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0y8WDdkRVnk/TyLrSdyXJ-I/AAAAAAAABtA/zWIQb6o6Uf4/s320/IMG_5066.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702378780670502882" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span >...Canto cuando las estrellas </span></div><div><span >esparcen su claridad: </span></div><div><span >cuando argentan las espumas; </span></div><div><span >¡las espumas de la mar!... </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Rubén Darío</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-202402562341368489?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-14898350512008013282012-01-27T15:18:00.000-03:002012-01-27T15:20:21.957-03:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RvQIjLB-nWQ/TyLq1_U6pMI/AAAAAAAABs0/qZ9ZOdaIKD0/s1600/IMG_5064.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 201px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RvQIjLB-nWQ/TyLq1_U6pMI/AAAAAAAABs0/qZ9ZOdaIKD0/s320/IMG_5064.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702378291457598658" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span >...De lo que el mar en su extensión afina </span></div><div><span >-perla en matización, concha irisada-, </span></div><div><span >queda un halo brillante en la oleada. </span></div><div><span >Halo que en pulcra irradiación culmia... </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Evaristo Ribera Chevremont</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-1489835051200801328?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-73168867774400678222012-01-27T15:17:00.002-03:002012-01-27T15:18:37.379-03:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IrsXlfXqGs8/TyLqaRPqaDI/AAAAAAAABso/FAQV9kVkaME/s1600/IMG_4974.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 198px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IrsXlfXqGs8/TyLqaRPqaDI/AAAAAAAABso/FAQV9kVkaME/s320/IMG_4974.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702377815231064114" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span >...Mañana será el mar, la lejanía, </span></div><div><span >la blanca inmensidad de los recuerdos, </span></div><div><span >la arena tibia de la playa ardiente, </span></div><div><span >el cielo claro, el barco solo </span></div><div><span >en la pleamar de plata... </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Laura Victoria </span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-7316886777440067822?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-10740760192845245052012-01-27T15:14:00.000-03:002012-01-27T15:16:22.864-03:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z8VEaR7QtwU/TyLp3uc_hbI/AAAAAAAABsc/rDbRF7WVCIc/s1600/IMG_5216.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z8VEaR7QtwU/TyLp3uc_hbI/AAAAAAAABsc/rDbRF7WVCIc/s320/IMG_5216.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702377221776180658" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span >Esperar junto a este mar (en el que nacieron las ideas) </span></div><div><span >sin ninguna idea. (Y así tenerlas todas)... </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Antonio Colinas</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-1074076019284524505?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-68066613606563487422011-12-27T02:41:00.002-03:002011-12-27T02:42:30.393-03:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ukob1WpK0eo/TvlatbylFaI/AAAAAAAABsQ/WY0IkDUYE00/s1600/IMG_6760.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 173px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ukob1WpK0eo/TvlatbylFaI/AAAAAAAABsQ/WY0IkDUYE00/s320/IMG_6760.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690679340759848354" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span >...De pronto se oye el eco del grito de la pampa; </span></div><div><span >brilla como una puesta del argentino sol; </span></div><div><span >y un espectral jinete como una sombra cruza... </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Rubén Darío </span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-6806661360656348742?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-6851142278374165372011-12-27T02:38:00.001-03:002011-12-27T02:40:34.791-03:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CcCw3N7k4Z8/TvlaPPBgmzI/AAAAAAAABsE/VdeeT0G9j3Q/s1600/IMG_3234.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 246px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CcCw3N7k4Z8/TvlaPPBgmzI/AAAAAAAABsE/VdeeT0G9j3Q/s320/IMG_3234.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690678821936732978" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span >Miniatura del bosque soberano, </span></div><div><span >consentida del vergel y el viento, </span></div><div><span >los campos cruza en busca del sustento, </span></div><div><span >sin perder nunca el colmenar lejano... </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Enrique Alvarez Henao</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-685114227837416537?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-3304829312582891812011-12-27T02:35:00.001-03:002011-12-27T02:38:35.948-03:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nvau3BV7UKA/TvlZuEocioI/AAAAAAAABr4/S_6Ms8LrDHU/s1600/IMG_4978-1.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nvau3BV7UKA/TvlZuEocioI/AAAAAAAABr4/S_6Ms8LrDHU/s320/IMG_4978-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690678252211571330" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span >...Oigo que habla: </span></div><div><span >confundo sus murmullos </span></div><div><span >con el suave rumor que producen las olas. </span></div><div><span >Entre sueños lo oigo... </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Juan Domingo Argüelles </span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-330482931258289181?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-12757287247860662592011-12-27T02:33:00.001-03:002011-12-27T02:35:27.392-03:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m3BPbr55iFw/TvlZD7Op0EI/AAAAAAAABrs/PQr07EjeSxk/s1600/IMG_0930.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 201px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m3BPbr55iFw/TvlZD7Op0EI/AAAAAAAABrs/PQr07EjeSxk/s320/IMG_0930.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690677528132964418" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span >...Será molino </span></div><div><span >de viento, como los otros? </span></div><div><span >Será juego del interés? </span></div><div><span >Y que relinchen los potros? </span></div><div><span >Y que hablemos en inglés?... </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Azarias Pallais </span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-1275728724786066259?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-44101456242007804582011-12-27T02:31:00.001-03:002011-12-27T02:33:03.825-03:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-28QIjgsLBQE/TvlYfeWEOtI/AAAAAAAABrg/WZjxDRP0E1U/s1600/IMG_6725.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 188px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-28QIjgsLBQE/TvlYfeWEOtI/AAAAAAAABrg/WZjxDRP0E1U/s320/IMG_6725.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690676901904136914" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span >...Tengo todo lo que quiero, mi plata es la libertad </span></div><div><span >si yo elegí mi destino, es cosa mía nomás. </span></div><div><span >Abájese y desensille, todo es suyo, de verdad, </span></div><div><span >la pampa, el sol las estrellas, el arroyo y el yuyal. </span></div><div><span >Un sueño solo es un sueño, cual será la realidad </span></div><div><span >si ni siquiera he sabido si el camino viene o va... </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >José Larralde</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-4410145624200780458?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-80520599017060023632011-12-27T02:29:00.002-03:002011-12-27T02:30:44.809-03:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_nfmuAAFoTI/TvlX8_ns9HI/AAAAAAAABrU/LvZWngCgaao/s1600/IMG_5058.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 218px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_nfmuAAFoTI/TvlX8_ns9HI/AAAAAAAABrU/LvZWngCgaao/s320/IMG_5058.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690676309541057650" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span >...Así somos el que regresa </span></div><div><span >Y el que aguarda el retorno, </span></div><div><span >El ser saqueado que a la orilla vuelve </span></div><div><span >Y la orilla ignota y saqueante... </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >José Carlos Cataño</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-8052059901706002363?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-22016205097331797902011-12-27T02:26:00.002-03:002011-12-27T02:28:46.953-03:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-G0cFpHV8BaU/TvlXeZgZZGI/AAAAAAAABrI/HOZLHszeYn4/s1600/IMG_5046.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 218px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-G0cFpHV8BaU/TvlXeZgZZGI/AAAAAAAABrI/HOZLHszeYn4/s320/IMG_5046.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690675783913792610" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span >...El mundo se rinde de esta manera y uno sonríe </span></div><div><span >sin entender en qué consiste el triunfo, </span></div><div><span >mientras el sol brilla... </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Jorge Ricardo Aulicino</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-2201620509733179790?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-31149813856790859872011-12-27T02:23:00.002-03:002011-12-27T02:25:40.487-03:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-89htwulw-tk/TvlWxGN1oGI/AAAAAAAABq8/UPet54LZDbg/s1600/IMG_5154.JPGFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-89htwulw-tk/TvlWxGN1oGI/AAAAAAAABq8/UPet54LZDbg/s320/IMG_5154.JPGFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690675005641564258" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span >...Tú, verdad solitaria, </span></div><div><span >transparente pasión, mi soledad de siempre, </span></div><div><span >eres inmenso abrazo; </span></div><div><span >el sol, el mar... </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Luis Cernuda</span></div></div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-3114981385679085987?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-83727840113993670432011-12-27T02:21:00.002-03:002011-12-27T02:22:50.051-03:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-E4S3mXocrJw/TvlWEiwJeRI/AAAAAAAABqw/_4xwf7i2MfI/s1600/IMG_0566.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 217px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-E4S3mXocrJw/TvlWEiwJeRI/AAAAAAAABqw/_4xwf7i2MfI/s320/IMG_0566.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690674240207550738" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span >...Pasan los días, se cierran los caminos </span></div><div><span >y nuestra condición construye puentes. </span></div><div><span >Corre el río, la tarde se diluye... </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Hugo Gutiérrez Vega </span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-8372784011399367043?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-65359217142884986972011-12-27T02:19:00.002-03:002011-12-27T02:20:49.067-03:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yKOUIjA9etE/TvlVoTQMiDI/AAAAAAAABqk/w1BnUXeZh_U/s1600/IMG_5366.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yKOUIjA9etE/TvlVoTQMiDI/AAAAAAAABqk/w1BnUXeZh_U/s320/IMG_5366.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690673755010664498" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span >...El mar, la soledad... Allá la ardiente </span></div><div><span >fulguración del sol que ya declina, </span></div><div><span >y abajo un remover de espuma hirviente </span></div><div><span >y un chorrear de agua cristalina </span></div><div><span >que está corriendo interminablemente... </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Manuel Magallanes Moure</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-6535921714288498697?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-30366783804936536072011-12-27T02:04:00.001-03:002011-12-27T02:19:16.434-03:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SGNab_VHniU/TvlU_Ag1nKI/AAAAAAAABqY/CW3KKG_nFa0/s1600/IMG_5404.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SGNab_VHniU/TvlU_Ag1nKI/AAAAAAAABqY/CW3KKG_nFa0/s320/IMG_5404.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690673045605555362" /></a><div><br /></div><div><div><span >...igual que un artesano, </span></div><div><span >separarse a mirar </span></div><div><span >cómo la luz emerge </span></div><div><span >de la sutil textura... </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Jose Agustin Goytisolo</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-3036678380493653607?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-36963522975885249222011-11-28T03:27:00.000-03:002011-11-28T03:29:23.998-03:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EDqKoiK6Gl0/TtMqMOfCOHI/AAAAAAAABqM/3YvkDPCAvzI/s1600/IMG_5363.jpg2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 211px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EDqKoiK6Gl0/TtMqMOfCOHI/AAAAAAAABqM/3YvkDPCAvzI/s320/IMG_5363.jpg2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679929944579389554" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...La palabra buena, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >la palabra mansa </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >que al fin de muchas luchas, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >y triunfos y derrotas, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >encuentra, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >que sólo sabe comprender, callada. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Fernando Paz Castillo </span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-3696352297588524922?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-22763901504553737702011-11-28T03:25:00.000-03:002011-11-28T03:27:17.976-03:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--mMKkFjVnMw/TtMpoBkcRrI/AAAAAAAABqA/ktEWHFv1rsk/s1600/IMG_2962.jpg2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 210px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--mMKkFjVnMw/TtMpoBkcRrI/AAAAAAAABqA/ktEWHFv1rsk/s320/IMG_2962.jpg2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679929322637117106" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...El ser y todo el yo congregado, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >en la llanura que parpadea su aurora. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >El ser y toda la llanura, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >boca insomne que abre </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >sus enormes labios... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Gerardo Guinea Diez</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-2276390150455373770?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-80170751647263137032011-11-28T03:23:00.001-03:002011-11-28T03:25:26.302-03:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aZ5u-4jePDU/TtMpNEk-GyI/AAAAAAAABp0/zsR445WVsL0/s1600/IMG_3564.jpg2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 204px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aZ5u-4jePDU/TtMpNEk-GyI/AAAAAAAABp0/zsR445WVsL0/s320/IMG_3564.jpg2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679928859588172578" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...Mi libro de otoño </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >transita el silencio </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >de mi pensamiento </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >cuando estoy conmigo </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >bebido de tiempo... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >José Larralde </span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-8017075164726313703?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-85295148886295388582011-11-28T03:14:00.002-03:002011-11-28T03:22:44.728-03:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ao1kM2vEnOA/TtMoJeJRFDI/AAAAAAAABpo/L1nLI88bqrk/s1600/IMG_5120.jpg2.jpg%2BFM.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ao1kM2vEnOA/TtMoJeJRFDI/AAAAAAAABpo/L1nLI88bqrk/s320/IMG_5120.jpg2.jpg%2BFM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679927698220192818" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...El aliento es soplo </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >que baila hasta extenuar su piel </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Los pies </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >alas </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >que se acunan </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >en playa borrada... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Mariana Bernárdez </span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-8529514888629538858?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-41390724399673379882011-11-28T03:09:00.002-03:002011-11-28T03:12:56.525-03:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e0fDVJLK-_g/TtMmBE9I10I/AAAAAAAABpc/kOgtLIyCZ-Q/s1600/IMG_5051.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 221px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e0fDVJLK-_g/TtMmBE9I10I/AAAAAAAABpc/kOgtLIyCZ-Q/s320/IMG_5051.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679925354996225858" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...Porque recuerdo ahora </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >de qué color la vida </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >se ponía en la tarde, cómo calzaba a nuestros sueños, cómo </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >los crecimientos iban </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >sin luz... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Jesus Hilario Tundidor</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-4139072439967337988?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-54136184113899079092011-11-28T03:01:00.001-03:002011-11-28T03:08:58.402-03:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ka7Fz7uxA8U/TtMk-zSuZ4I/AAAAAAAABpQ/hb_pevdC1jA/s1600/IMG_5055.jpg2.jpg2.jpgFM.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 206px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ka7Fz7uxA8U/TtMk-zSuZ4I/AAAAAAAABpQ/hb_pevdC1jA/s320/IMG_5055.jpg2.jpg2.jpgFM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679924216383563650" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...Voy a cerrar los ojos </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >porque del mar viene esa luz que no se apaga, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >y esta memoria que fluye igual que el agua, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >y del mar vienen, también, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >los barcos y los vientos: </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >del mar, siempre del mar, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >que nunca esconde su profundidad... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Juan Domingo Argüelles</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-5413618411389907909?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-68564443652983344532011-11-28T02:55:00.001-03:002011-11-28T03:01:24.827-03:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-spqPPzJiZlA/TtMjGLiOIsI/AAAAAAAABpE/vrWC99hYYRo/s1600/IMG_0741.jpg2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-spqPPzJiZlA/TtMjGLiOIsI/AAAAAAAABpE/vrWC99hYYRo/s320/IMG_0741.jpg2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679922144126837442" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >En aquel tiempo había en mi vida un llano </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >y un tren que fatigado lo surcaba </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >y una casa en el llano, y unos ojos </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >detras de la ventana... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Joaquín Sabina</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-6856444365298334453?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-81755856572965370392011-11-28T02:52:00.001-03:002011-11-28T02:55:17.393-03:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GJdmYzwevZk/TtMiHoypj9I/AAAAAAAABo4/Q0khdFMyfL8/s1600/IMG_0929.jpg2-1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GJdmYzwevZk/TtMiHoypj9I/AAAAAAAABo4/Q0khdFMyfL8/s320/IMG_0929.jpg2-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679921069648613330" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...tiempo para esconderme </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >en el canto de un gallo </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >y para reaparecer </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >en un relincho </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >y para estar al día </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >para estar a la noche </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >tiempo sin recato y sin reloj </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >vale decir preciso </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >o sea necesito </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >digamos me hace falta </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >tiempo sin tiempo... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Mario Benedetti</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-8175585657296537039?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-87127516378059051402011-11-28T02:47:00.002-03:002011-11-28T02:51:53.232-03:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cSPxg031u9w/TtMhKZDRkZI/AAAAAAAABos/LQSWuoUl8KI/s1600/IMG_4874.jpg2.jpg2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cSPxg031u9w/TtMhKZDRkZI/AAAAAAAABos/LQSWuoUl8KI/s320/IMG_4874.jpg2.jpg2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679920017451356562" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...Aguas como el principio de las aguas, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >como el principio mismo antes del agua, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >las aguas inundadas por el agua, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >aniquilando lo que finge el agua... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Octavio Paz </span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-8712751637805905140?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-73086865762533650892011-11-28T02:43:00.001-03:002011-11-28T02:47:36.245-03:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mc5WNgjImNc/TtMgYFI51kI/AAAAAAAABog/S6Urm_ih4og/s1600/IMG_7956.jpg2.jpgFM.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mc5WNgjImNc/TtMgYFI51kI/AAAAAAAABog/S6Urm_ih4og/s320/IMG_7956.jpg2.jpgFM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679919153112798786" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...El alma se empapaba </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >en la solemne clásica grandeza </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >que llenaba los ámbitos abiertos </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >del cielo y de la tierra... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Jose Maria Gabriel y Galan </span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-7308686576253365089?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-41561929934214996922011-11-28T02:28:00.001-03:002011-11-28T02:43:02.913-03:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YkySMCGIlsk/TtMeJM6kLiI/AAAAAAAABoU/LH-u9JcQoGs/s1600/IMG_3873.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 218px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YkySMCGIlsk/TtMeJM6kLiI/AAAAAAAABoU/LH-u9JcQoGs/s320/IMG_3873.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679916698478849570" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><div>...He filtrado a la tarde el sitio </div><div>donde tu figura suspendió el tiempo, </div><div>y el presente </div><div>es una emboscada </div><div>luminosa </div><div>perpetuada de eternidad. </div><div><br /></div><div>Ariel Montoya </div></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-4156192993421499692?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-81526733831817052652011-11-20T00:24:00.003-03:002011-11-20T00:26:52.605-03:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bqoDCSaKr2Y/TshzK52NjYI/AAAAAAAABoI/MapV3L0pg3M/s1600/5kTy.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 215px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bqoDCSaKr2Y/TshzK52NjYI/AAAAAAAABoI/MapV3L0pg3M/s320/5kTy.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5676913961464597890" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...Te llaman: </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >todo lo que es humilde bajo el cielo; </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >la inocencia de un pedazo de pan; </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >el puñado de sal que se derrama </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >sobre el mantel de un pobre; </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >la mirada sumisa de un caballo... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Herib Campos Cervera</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-8152673383181705265?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-6989525418809084172011-11-20T00:22:00.002-03:002011-11-20T00:23:49.533-03:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sN2zxFdqQGA/TshyslkNS2I/AAAAAAAABn8/9Kf6EgTEonc/s1600/IMG_7850.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 206px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sN2zxFdqQGA/TshyslkNS2I/AAAAAAAABn8/9Kf6EgTEonc/s320/IMG_7850.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5676913440624298850" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Amanece </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >tras un instante </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >y otro </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >ritmando sueños, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >silbándole al sol </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >la memoria </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >de una leyenda... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Julio César Aguilar </span></div></div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-698952541880908417?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-19842330389973209012011-11-20T00:19:00.001-03:002011-11-20T00:21:57.390-03:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HyfeD745Fek/TshyP5plGlI/AAAAAAAABnw/gzdSimQQeGo/s1600/IMG_7986.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 248px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HyfeD745Fek/TshyP5plGlI/AAAAAAAABnw/gzdSimQQeGo/s320/IMG_7986.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5676912947799333458" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Dios ¿dónde estás? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Acaso en la débil ala de una mariposa, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >en el monótono zumbido de la abeja </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >o en la gaviota que roza vagamente la playa... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Lina Zerón </span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-1984233038997320901?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-79274635472390083762011-11-20T00:18:00.003-03:002011-11-20T00:19:34.159-03:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b0P1790Vq7c/TshxtAczkaI/AAAAAAAABnk/xbW28JPMojk/s1600/IMG_7964.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 220px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b0P1790Vq7c/TshxtAczkaI/AAAAAAAABnk/xbW28JPMojk/s320/IMG_7964.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5676912348329382306" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...Solamente los grillos, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >entre sí, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >se dicen su cuento; </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >ah, y también las lechuzas. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Sigues esperando que la noche te hable, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >y nomás un coro de estrellas lejanas </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >deletrea tu presencia. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Julio César Aguilar</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-7927463547239008376?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-1593774801066861612011-11-20T00:15:00.000-03:002011-11-20T00:17:58.346-03:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7-8d-G_B6s0/TshxU3G5LAI/AAAAAAAABnY/TerhmQMrlvs/s1600/IMG_7940.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 215px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7-8d-G_B6s0/TshxU3G5LAI/AAAAAAAABnY/TerhmQMrlvs/s320/IMG_7940.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5676911933504695298" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >El cielo espejea entre los árboles. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Los árboles se imaginan </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >que están a orillas de un lago color violeta. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Nosotros advertimos el engaño </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >y a grandes voces espantamos a los árboles </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >como si se tratara </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >de unos altos pájaros verdes </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >que hubieran escondido </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >en el plumaje </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >la otra pierna... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Luis Vidales</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-159377480106686161?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-7941207888366692622011-11-20T00:13:00.000-03:002011-11-20T00:15:09.424-03:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GtXqEJAgMbk/TshwqFFkm2I/AAAAAAAABnM/PaSCmAc271c/s1600/IMG_3562.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 197px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GtXqEJAgMbk/TshwqFFkm2I/AAAAAAAABnM/PaSCmAc271c/s320/IMG_3562.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5676911198522874722" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Cada día toco con mis manos la dicha </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >la beso con mis labios </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >la dejo que se duerma dulcemente en mi pecho </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >que se despierte luego estremecida como un hermoso sueño... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >José Luis Cano</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-794120788836669262?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-74558521215502977832011-11-20T00:10:00.003-03:002011-11-20T00:13:05.640-03:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Uj-mS-gxcF8/Tshv5vHba1I/AAAAAAAABnA/c0hKgL52gVc/s1600/IMG_3398.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 194px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Uj-mS-gxcF8/Tshv5vHba1I/AAAAAAAABnA/c0hKgL52gVc/s320/IMG_3398.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5676910367991360338" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...Del norte va mi voz </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >en brújula de sueños </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >buscando abierta y dulce la rosa de los vientos </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >para saber del sur, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >y saber que en él vibra </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >la canción de un arroyo </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >de palabras inmensas... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >José Luis Appleyard </span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-7455852121550297783?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-82503996323080515932011-11-20T00:08:00.000-03:002011-11-20T00:09:40.540-03:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-T7104t5Qmbc/TshvX1f3z3I/AAAAAAAABm0/ISoqOmjMrzI/s1600/IMG_3879.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 223px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-T7104t5Qmbc/TshvX1f3z3I/AAAAAAAABm0/ISoqOmjMrzI/s320/IMG_3879.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5676909785588944754" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...Día que muere en la noche, noche en el día. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Lucha de luz y sombra es rebeldía, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >corazón que no lucha pierde el latido </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >y el átomo rebelde perdura erguido... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >José Larralde </span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-8250399632308051593?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-91475829236348168412011-11-20T00:06:00.002-03:002011-11-20T00:07:56.143-03:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-v328J7lxRks/Tshu-Ymuc5I/AAAAAAAABmo/TLlqLSmRBgg/s1600/IMG_3874.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-v328J7lxRks/Tshu-Ymuc5I/AAAAAAAABmo/TLlqLSmRBgg/s320/IMG_3874.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5676909348336333714" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...El sol se hunde en silencio </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >y sopla las bujías </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >y se envuelve en su manto como </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >un rey... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Carmen Martin Gaite </span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-9147582923634816841?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-61369616939013293302011-11-20T00:04:00.002-03:002011-11-20T00:05:49.263-03:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PYkuCozAlf0/Tshue6XuMII/AAAAAAAABmc/5lW6Sfh_iao/s1600/IMG_3963.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 230px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PYkuCozAlf0/Tshue6XuMII/AAAAAAAABmc/5lW6Sfh_iao/s320/IMG_3963.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5676908807644393602" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...y miro el cielo abierto girar en su estupor </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >en su furor sereno devienen más desastres </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >y se desencadenan las bestias del amor </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >y cantan y no cocen maquiavélicos sastres </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >que unieron sin hilván tu corazón y el mío... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Juan Gelman</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-6136961693901329330?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-58442267484292200122011-11-20T00:02:00.002-03:002011-11-20T00:03:40.881-03:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6TEpIikjuQM/Tsht-tJ1z3I/AAAAAAAABmQ/WjQsqftJl-8/s1600/IMG_3825.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6TEpIikjuQM/Tsht-tJ1z3I/AAAAAAAABmQ/WjQsqftJl-8/s320/IMG_3825.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5676908254340697970" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Éste no es el viento de los sauces </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >ni el viento de los eucaliptos, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >ni siquiera el viento que enciende las velas </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >y mueve lentamente los molinos. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >No es el viento que desplaza las nubes... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Alberto Blanco</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-5844226748429220012?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-20306267157241580962011-10-30T15:01:00.002-03:002011-10-30T15:03:50.992-03:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s4InXVl9s6E/Tq2RX4NLD7I/AAAAAAAABmE/3_22Z0exF5k/s1600/IMG_6167.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 176px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s4InXVl9s6E/Tq2RX4NLD7I/AAAAAAAABmE/3_22Z0exF5k/s320/IMG_6167.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669347345339977650" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Se puso el sol; parecía </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >que el vasto horizonte ardía: </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >la silenciosa llanura </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >fue quedando más obscura, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >más pardo el cielo... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Esteban Echeverría</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-2030626715724158096?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-77915068458875597222011-10-30T14:59:00.002-03:002011-10-30T15:01:38.053-03:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KUCzbpdzW8Y/Tq2Q37rg39I/AAAAAAAABl4/g0DrtotkMWE/s1600/IMG_5478.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 230px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KUCzbpdzW8Y/Tq2Q37rg39I/AAAAAAAABl4/g0DrtotkMWE/s320/IMG_5478.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669346796516728786" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Recuerda el tiempo que en la playa sola, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >al ver la ola </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >que alumbraba el sol, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >tú me dijiste que la mar un día </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >se acabaría </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >antes que tu amor... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Josefa Murillo</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-7791506845887559722?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-54491329381581572862011-10-30T14:57:00.003-03:002011-10-30T14:59:01.793-03:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6r4h6AbCvWM/Tq2QQmO1QuI/AAAAAAAABls/WUPLEfKk5xE/s1600/IMG_5044.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6r4h6AbCvWM/Tq2QQmO1QuI/AAAAAAAABls/WUPLEfKk5xE/s320/IMG_5044.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669346120744387298" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...La luz va declinando en apagarse lento </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >y ya en el horizonte muere el atardecer. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Como dulce canción me llegan con el viento </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >las palabras de otrora, recuerdos del ayer, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >y todo cobra vida, mágico, en un momento, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >igual que si de nuevo hoy la volviera a ver... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Marilina Rebora </span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-5449132938158157286?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-17735149587668097182011-10-30T14:56:00.002-03:002011-10-30T14:57:13.021-03:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0NH-6MIAQ5g/Tq2P46IjttI/AAAAAAAABlg/kZ6pIcgpLmA/s1600/IMG_4297.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 207px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0NH-6MIAQ5g/Tq2P46IjttI/AAAAAAAABlg/kZ6pIcgpLmA/s320/IMG_4297.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669345713769920210" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...Por las colinas y las sierras calvas, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >verdes pradillos, cerros cenicientos, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >la primavera pasa </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >dejando entre las hierbas olorosas </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >sus diminutas margaritas blancas... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Antonio Machado</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-1773514958766809718?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-46851300062865044092011-10-30T14:54:00.002-03:002011-10-30T14:55:57.481-03:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Rui2P7bkN80/Tq2Pj-y_TEI/AAAAAAAABlU/Wp9LRMV6OfE/s1600/IMG_4308.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Rui2P7bkN80/Tq2Pj-y_TEI/AAAAAAAABlU/Wp9LRMV6OfE/s320/IMG_4308.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669345354244377666" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Elegiré una Piedra. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Y un Arbol. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Y una Nube. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Y gritaré tu nombre </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >hasta que el aire ciego que te lleva </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >me escuche. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >(En voz baja.)... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Herib Campos Cervera</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-4685130006286504409?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-13652661503487719602011-10-30T14:50:00.003-03:002011-10-30T14:53:28.947-03:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gtu2JA6eRaA/Tq2Or-eDYuI/AAAAAAAABlI/IoLrQPLBK-I/s1600/IMG_4701.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 225px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gtu2JA6eRaA/Tq2Or-eDYuI/AAAAAAAABlI/IoLrQPLBK-I/s320/IMG_4701.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669344392083890914" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Primogénita ilustre del Plata, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >En solar apertura hacia el Este. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Donde atado a tu cinta celeste </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Va el gran río color de león... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Leopoldo Lugones</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-1365266150348771960?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-22594549111530958402011-10-30T14:48:00.000-03:002011-10-30T14:49:57.871-03:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9rIvfwjnaWQ/Tq2OMrDfmpI/AAAAAAAABk8/ULvM0zrylds/s1600/IMG_4828.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9rIvfwjnaWQ/Tq2OMrDfmpI/AAAAAAAABk8/ULvM0zrylds/s320/IMG_4828.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669343854296275602" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Se le hinchan los pies. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >El cuarto mes </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >le pesa en el vientre...( ) </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >( )...A su manera, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >floreció por primavera, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >para dar gracias al sol... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Joan M. Serrat</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-2259454911153095840?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-73492199045742130562011-10-30T02:50:00.000-03:002011-10-30T02:52:33.051-03:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dxm0fzy80DE/TqzmDYogn4I/AAAAAAAABkw/fKWdY_hmjS8/s1600/IMG_4725.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 211px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dxm0fzy80DE/TqzmDYogn4I/AAAAAAAABkw/fKWdY_hmjS8/s320/IMG_4725.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669158976778968962" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >De la boca asombrosa de la nada, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >que era el eco de un Alguien </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >en busca de su espejo </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >había estallado el mundo </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >como un cuadro. Ni pincel ni color. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Algodones de nubes poblaron el azul... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Pedro Miguel Lamet</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-7349219904574213056?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-46607859481929137622011-10-30T02:47:00.000-03:002011-10-30T02:50:38.146-03:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fHYzWlJD8xM/TqzllJQ-dFI/AAAAAAAABkk/Q6VMNuJQ4f4/s1600/IMG_5027.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 209px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fHYzWlJD8xM/TqzllJQ-dFI/AAAAAAAABkk/Q6VMNuJQ4f4/s320/IMG_5027.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669158457257653330" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Las delicadas espaldas del sueño </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >remontan rojas el oceano, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >nubes de densidad calurosa </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >al extremo del día abovedado, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >el mar en esta brisa de verano. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >La más difusa música, en el sueño... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Andres Sanchez Robayna</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-4660785948192913762?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-58558799684610957862011-10-30T02:43:00.002-03:002011-10-30T02:47:37.543-03:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DG4AgCNZ6XU/TqzkZ-ZyFXI/AAAAAAAABkY/mmAZYtnb-Q0/s1600/IMG_4546.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 222px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DG4AgCNZ6XU/TqzkZ-ZyFXI/AAAAAAAABkY/mmAZYtnb-Q0/s320/IMG_4546.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669157165851612530" /></a><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...no es sino la imagen de otra imagen,</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >un espacio irreal, confuso, como la propia vida.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Su sombra adopta entonces la hechura de otra sombra. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Angel Campos Pampano</span></div><div><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-5855879968461095786?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-73486342517302690932011-10-30T02:40:00.002-03:002011-10-30T02:43:05.586-03:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2WTbUpYDAwk/TqzjyWeURNI/AAAAAAAABkM/8LPNw7TFGqQ/s1600/IMG_5489.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 211px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2WTbUpYDAwk/TqzjyWeURNI/AAAAAAAABkM/8LPNw7TFGqQ/s320/IMG_5489.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669156485118313682" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Al atardecer el agua </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >lo reflejará muy vago, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >con claridades de cielo </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >y claridades de lago… </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Dulce Maria Loynaz</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-7348634251730269093?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-82966628092148129032011-09-29T20:23:00.002-03:002011-09-29T20:25:12.441-03:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xGoTfP03uD4/ToT-N7ggS5I/AAAAAAAABkE/wNCriMdcyLI/s1600/IMG_5303.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xGoTfP03uD4/ToT-N7ggS5I/AAAAAAAABkE/wNCriMdcyLI/s320/IMG_5303.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657926547149966226" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...el horizonte lejos. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >El mar que regresaba despacio a mis espaldas, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >sin alcanzarme nunca. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Recogeré las flores en la arena </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >como si fuera la primera vez que sueño sobre la playa... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Ana Maria Moix </span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-8296662809214812903?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-86568407940012093832011-09-22T20:27:00.001-03:002011-09-22T20:29:57.420-03:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2Y8d5FqgKiE/TnvExfjh7KI/AAAAAAAABj8/YneZnALThu0/s1600/IMG_3086.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2Y8d5FqgKiE/TnvExfjh7KI/AAAAAAAABj8/YneZnALThu0/s320/IMG_3086.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655330111656946850" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...Hay palabras que regresan de sus nidos </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >y nos llevan a la noche, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >a la noche. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Esta tarde tiene gris la mirada, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >se está llenando de sombras </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >y no me deja hacer preguntas. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Edith Checa </span></div></div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-8656840794001209383?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-14334810027031594822011-09-22T20:24:00.001-03:002011-09-22T20:27:19.485-03:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lGPu77O1eBQ/TnvEQ0bixKI/AAAAAAAABj0/wd8CE67uCRo/s1600/IMG_6218.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 222px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lGPu77O1eBQ/TnvEQ0bixKI/AAAAAAAABj0/wd8CE67uCRo/s320/IMG_6218.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655329550324909218" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...Rumor confuso </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >hacer el viento surgir de la arboleda, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >donde su red de transparente seda </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >grisácea araña entre las hojas puso. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Del horizonte hasta el confín difuso... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Julian del Casal</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-1433481002703159482?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-40178720179330678742011-09-22T20:21:00.001-03:002011-09-22T20:24:37.483-03:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fZYv-PCx9yQ/TnvDf8Qs11I/AAAAAAAABjs/vYLq4tORkrc/s1600/IMG_4801.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fZYv-PCx9yQ/TnvDf8Qs11I/AAAAAAAABjs/vYLq4tORkrc/s320/IMG_4801.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655328710613325650" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...y me deja solo en esta playa de pronto interminable. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Como el mar es la casa, como la lluvia sus muros. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Siento mis pasos: ya están aquí, y abro la puerta... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Miguel Arteche</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-4017872017933067874?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-87406943760264032242011-09-22T20:19:00.001-03:002011-09-22T20:21:38.704-03:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B2ueLHibEb4/TnvCtT3g96I/AAAAAAAABjk/2U6ZUTz6s2Q/s1600/IMG_4924.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B2ueLHibEb4/TnvCtT3g96I/AAAAAAAABjk/2U6ZUTz6s2Q/s320/IMG_4924.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655327840776812450" /></a><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...¿Qué es en definitiva el mar?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >¿por qué seduce? ¿por qué tienta?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >suele invadirnos como un dogma</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >y nos obliga a ser orilla...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Mario Benedetti</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-8740694376026403224?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-85341791703684899792011-09-22T20:14:00.002-03:002011-09-22T20:18:53.244-03:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dhZ_0Bz-eJU/TnvBzYrR8jI/AAAAAAAABjc/T_3jr03maDs/s1600/IMG_7505.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 205px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dhZ_0Bz-eJU/TnvBzYrR8jI/AAAAAAAABjc/T_3jr03maDs/s320/IMG_7505.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655326845635260978" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...¿Qué hará bajo el otoño</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >si el aire huele a humo</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >y a pólvora y a besos?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >¿Qué hacer?¿Qué hará? Preguntas</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >a un azar que ya tiene</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >las suertes repartidas.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Jose Agustin Goytisolo</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-8534179170368489979?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-17379186779078369952011-09-22T20:12:00.002-03:002011-09-22T20:14:36.568-03:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bnDGnNbG9qI/TnvBPtB1xYI/AAAAAAAABjU/V5b0T2gSOqA/s1600/IMG_4132.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 254px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bnDGnNbG9qI/TnvBPtB1xYI/AAAAAAAABjU/V5b0T2gSOqA/s320/IMG_4132.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655326232623302018" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...Cabeza meditadora, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >¡qué lejos se oye el zumbido </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >de la abeja libadora! </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Echaste un velo de sombra </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >sobre el bello mundo y vas </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >creyendo ver, porque mides </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >la sombra con un compás. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Mientras la abeja fabrica, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >melifica, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >con jugo de campo y sol, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >yo voy echando verdades </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >que nada son, vanidades </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >al fondo de mi crisol... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Antonio Machado</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-1737918677907836995?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-14480303320468592262011-09-22T20:09:00.002-03:002011-09-22T20:11:42.726-03:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kF1aV16_wzY/TnvAiWWmiVI/AAAAAAAABjM/ObV32o147M0/s1600/IMG_1137.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 162px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kF1aV16_wzY/TnvAiWWmiVI/AAAAAAAABjM/ObV32o147M0/s320/IMG_1137.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655325453442255186" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >En el lento amanecer la vida vuelve a ser un don </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Renovado despertar el alma en ocasión de amar </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Ven a verlo y a olvidar conmigo a tu pesar de ayer </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Nada puede ser mejor que un lento amanecer de amor </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Ya no mires hacia atrás, que todo lo demás es sombra de un error... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Carlos Barocela</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-1448030332046859226?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-68102508147850715672011-09-22T20:06:00.000-03:002011-09-22T20:09:02.750-03:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Gb9-0-RxmkE/Tnu_3Rf68oI/AAAAAAAABjE/7aRlb4Wt5qQ/s1600/IMG_7695.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Gb9-0-RxmkE/Tnu_3Rf68oI/AAAAAAAABjE/7aRlb4Wt5qQ/s320/IMG_7695.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655324713404789378" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...Han gozado mis pupilas </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >la visión de las tranquilas </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >ovejitas resbalando... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Paz y hierba van paciendo, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >dulce vida van viviendo, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >grata huella van dejando... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >José María Gabriel y Galán</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-6810250814785071567?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-2118650678295579312011-09-22T20:03:00.001-03:002011-09-22T20:06:26.176-03:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xmvXlFwGL0A/Tnu_U3tb_1I/AAAAAAAABi8/-k4vG39vWfA/s1600/IMG_7721.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xmvXlFwGL0A/Tnu_U3tb_1I/AAAAAAAABi8/-k4vG39vWfA/s320/IMG_7721.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655324122366607186" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Ser el gato, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >hacer un esfuerzo y ser el gato </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >transitorio del alba y en la cumbre </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >del mundo transitado, y presumible... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Carlos Barral</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-211865067829557931?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-21572793825971050942011-09-22T20:00:00.001-03:002011-09-22T20:03:39.999-03:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g_BggYbrnck/Tnu-UChnk3I/AAAAAAAABi0/o4gZEpR8OH4/s1600/IMG_2735-2.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 183px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g_BggYbrnck/Tnu-UChnk3I/AAAAAAAABi0/o4gZEpR8OH4/s320/IMG_2735-2.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655323008578327410" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...Hoja a hoja el invierno descendía:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Era tu nombre sobre el mundo, eterno.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Cecilia...El bosque....Tu esbeltez....Un día....</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Cuán cálida estación fue aquel invierno.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Alberto Angel Montoya</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-2157279382597105094?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-76545824948038739372011-08-30T23:20:00.001-03:002011-08-30T23:22:46.130-03:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Y-Bn7bZnNAg/Tl2a2YUS8sI/AAAAAAAABis/CUQWZs4tsKA/s1600/IMG_5589.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 235px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Y-Bn7bZnNAg/Tl2a2YUS8sI/AAAAAAAABis/CUQWZs4tsKA/s320/IMG_5589.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646839766823662274" /></a> <br /><div> <br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Nada es más que un instante. Lo remoto </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >se quedó detenido en su minuto... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" > <br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >David Escobar Galindo</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-7654582494803873937?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-8330835400062752242011-08-30T23:17:00.001-03:002011-08-30T23:19:56.337-03:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4506m9HT0tU/Tl2aKT0-9AI/AAAAAAAABik/_m6vUuF1JCg/s1600/IMG_5601.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 222px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4506m9HT0tU/Tl2aKT0-9AI/AAAAAAAABik/_m6vUuF1JCg/s320/IMG_5601.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646839009704342530" /></a> <br /><div> <br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...En el instante exprime el sol devoto </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >su apuesta cotidiana al Absoluto. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Y en esa ardiente vocación de luto </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >se hunde hasta la más pura flor de loto... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" > <br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >David Escobar Galindo </span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-833083540006275224?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-17104710536282777652011-08-30T23:15:00.002-03:002011-08-30T23:16:54.428-03:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7uFKRTotzyE/Tl2ZeX0iKHI/AAAAAAAABic/4e-ORI8BP14/s1600/IMG_6414.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 227px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7uFKRTotzyE/Tl2ZeX0iKHI/AAAAAAAABic/4e-ORI8BP14/s320/IMG_6414.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646838254861953138" /></a> <br /><div> <br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...Quién habitara tu veraz incendio </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >rodeado de azucenas por doquiera, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >quién entrara a tus dos puertos cerrados </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >azules y redondos como ojos azules </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >que aprisionaron todo el sol del día, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >para irse a soñar a tu serena plaza pueblerina... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" > <br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Gilberto Owen </span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-1710471053628277765?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-66360239932113196512011-08-30T23:12:00.001-03:002011-08-30T23:14:37.471-03:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-okPtxO0H6_Y/Tl2Y9qEiUnI/AAAAAAAABiU/NmPb_hTaexE/s1600/IMG_5468.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-okPtxO0H6_Y/Tl2Y9qEiUnI/AAAAAAAABiU/NmPb_hTaexE/s320/IMG_5468.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646837692825227890" /></a> <br /><div> <br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Este breve e inmenso cielo </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >gestado dentro de mí </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >vio el horizonte </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >entre aullidos y maldiciones </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" > <br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >A sus colores recurro </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >en todo tiempo </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >para renovar esperanzas </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >y llenarme del agua </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >de su mirada... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" > <br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Johanna Godoy </span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-6636023993211319651?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-84984365300895093962011-08-30T23:10:00.002-03:002011-08-30T23:12:20.583-03:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XwchsZUvWyM/Tl2Yb7cMpAI/AAAAAAAABiM/GJG54nKYLII/s1600/IMG_5106.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 232px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XwchsZUvWyM/Tl2Yb7cMpAI/AAAAAAAABiM/GJG54nKYLII/s320/IMG_5106.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646837113372320770" /></a> <br /><div> <br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...dejar hasta la sombra </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >mirar las playas sumergidas </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >las rocas certezas inauditas </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >a la orilla del mar que nos espera </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >y volver... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" > <br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Blanca Luz Pulido </span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-8498436530089509396?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-80431526365078070352011-08-30T23:07:00.001-03:002011-08-30T23:10:13.627-03:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zM0bCz5xuPk/Tl2X4WCs0DI/AAAAAAAABiE/hC-0WwsXh5M/s1600/IMG_6486.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zM0bCz5xuPk/Tl2X4WCs0DI/AAAAAAAABiE/hC-0WwsXh5M/s320/IMG_6486.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646836502037844018" /></a> <br /><div> <br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...Su mano entrañable se diluye con la lejanía </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >y su boca de lienzo caya la voz bifurcando su eco. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" > <br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Las vías del ferrocarril quedan ya vacías </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >recostadas sobre el suelo tembloroso de ausencia. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" > <br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Mauro Espeche</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-8043152636507807035?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-80225614690287770802011-08-30T23:06:00.002-03:002011-08-30T23:07:30.839-03:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jGxT5PpGb8I/Tl2XUaZ2eYI/AAAAAAAABh8/4L6C-AcqJUQ/s1600/IMG_4085.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 233px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jGxT5PpGb8I/Tl2XUaZ2eYI/AAAAAAAABh8/4L6C-AcqJUQ/s320/IMG_4085.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646835884733397378" /></a> <br /><div> <br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Cae del aire la flor </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" > <br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Tan leve amada </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >de ese trémulo espacio </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >donde viaja su huella </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >deslizando </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >aroma de su imagen </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >al amor... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" > <br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Nimia Vicens </span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-8022561469028777080?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-56358582036279691622011-08-30T23:04:00.000-03:002011-08-30T23:05:52.612-03:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JvhQ7URsEB4/Tl2W1FZWhtI/AAAAAAAABh0/5oA0pJQs6QU/s1600/IMG_6907.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 205px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JvhQ7URsEB4/Tl2W1FZWhtI/AAAAAAAABh0/5oA0pJQs6QU/s320/IMG_6907.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646835346518214354" /></a> <br /><div> <br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...Se los dije sin los ojos... se lo dije con palabras, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >se lo dije con palabras que iban muriendo en el río, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >como frases deshojadas, como pétalos mordidos, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >como migas de esperanza... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" > <br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >José Larralde </span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-5635858203627969162?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-27946513922931498042011-08-30T23:01:00.001-03:002011-08-30T23:03:47.713-03:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bJUW2ylh2EQ/Tl2WbwSMWaI/AAAAAAAABhs/V2ujI-qTEKQ/s1600/IMG_5131.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bJUW2ylh2EQ/Tl2WbwSMWaI/AAAAAAAABhs/V2ujI-qTEKQ/s320/IMG_5131.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646834911354313122" /></a> <br /><div> <br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...Recuerdo que me hablabas descansando todo el cuerpo en la voz, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >y tu voz era la que llevaba al mundo de la mano, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >amplia, segura, convencida, cierta... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" > <br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Luis Rosales</span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-2794651392293149804?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-59777490866508680162011-08-30T22:59:00.000-03:002011-08-30T23:01:14.127-03:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A1RLiLAbQRM/Tl2VxJP9dSI/AAAAAAAABhk/3xQaFd7hotE/s1600/IMG_5136.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A1RLiLAbQRM/Tl2VxJP9dSI/AAAAAAAABhk/3xQaFd7hotE/s320/IMG_5136.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646834179321460002" /></a> <br /><div> <br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...Todo ansias de amor el son de mi lenguaje, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >salvando las alturas en pos del infinito, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >desesperante, alcanza, tras impetuoso viaje, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >acento de mandato para aquel ser bendito... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" > <br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Marilina Rebora </span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-5977749086650868016?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-58064203685950414132011-08-30T22:54:00.002-03:002011-08-30T22:58:54.001-03:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7TZLJCApoeM/Tl2UzKT3eTI/AAAAAAAABhc/oB2hSYXi1XM/s1600/IMG_7540.JPG%2BFM.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 184px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7TZLJCApoeM/Tl2UzKT3eTI/AAAAAAAABhc/oB2hSYXi1XM/s320/IMG_7540.JPG%2BFM.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646833114454391090" /></a> <br /><div> <br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >...Esos árboles próceres se ahíncan</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Dedicando sus troncos al cénit,</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >A un cielo sin crepúsculos de crimen.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" > <br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Si tal fronda perece fulminada,</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Rumoroso otra vez igual verdor</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Se alzará en el olvido del tirano...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" > <br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Jorge Guillen</span></div></div><div> <br /></div><div></div><div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-5806420368595041413?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-87415733084243369962011-07-14T20:22:00.002-03:002011-07-14T20:24:04.070-03:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gh7nrkB_1Mg/Th96dfWjCNI/AAAAAAAABhU/vUBIJ6NcZ0E/s1600/IMG_5156.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 227px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gh7nrkB_1Mg/Th96dfWjCNI/AAAAAAAABhU/vUBIJ6NcZ0E/s320/IMG_5156.JPG%2BFM.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629352706287274194" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">...Lo llenan todo, mar </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">total de oro insondable, </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">con todo el viento en él... </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">(Son los recuerdos). </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Juan Ramon Jimenez</span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-8741573308424336996?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-42558647689946003572011-07-14T20:20:00.002-03:002011-07-14T20:21:59.726-03:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1lswPvEj9HY/Th96BtGyQrI/AAAAAAAABhM/LhzTfBmPGWQ/s1600/IMG_6127.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 202px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1lswPvEj9HY/Th96BtGyQrI/AAAAAAAABhM/LhzTfBmPGWQ/s320/IMG_6127.JPG%2BFM.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629352228942922418" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">...El pan será tal vez como tú eres: </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">tendrá tu voz, tu condición de trigo, </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">y hablarán otras cosas con tu voz: </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">los caballos perdidos del Otoño... </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Pablo Neruda </span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-4255864768994600357?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-61490935735963109082011-07-14T20:18:00.001-03:002011-07-14T20:20:25.033-03:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZc_pAFh4XQ/Th95qBg7sOI/AAAAAAAABhE/cPbXcWeZbaA/s1600/IMG_5232.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 204px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZc_pAFh4XQ/Th95qBg7sOI/AAAAAAAABhE/cPbXcWeZbaA/s320/IMG_5232.JPG%2BFM.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629351822104441058" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">...Que haya sueños es raro, que haya espejos, </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">que el usual y gastado repertorio </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">de cada día incluya el ilusorio </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">orbe profundo que urden los reflejos... </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Jorge Luis Borges </span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-6149093573596310908?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-23202110490083123492011-07-14T20:17:00.002-03:002011-07-14T20:18:28.094-03:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kU-ueZwKP3Q/Th95LOOJybI/AAAAAAAABg8/7nnNzyYAfa4/s1600/IMG_3560.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 195px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kU-ueZwKP3Q/Th95LOOJybI/AAAAAAAABg8/7nnNzyYAfa4/s320/IMG_3560.JPG%2BFM.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629351292939389362" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">...En las crecidas rosas de tu progreso </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">hay un poco de sangre de mis abuelos </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">que llegaron soñando con el regreso </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">y eligieron morirse bajo tu suelo. </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Eladia Blázquez</span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-2320211049008312349?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-73275424242578198062011-07-14T20:15:00.002-03:002011-07-14T20:17:00.194-03:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xT-dThNFA2k/Th9408z0FdI/AAAAAAAABg0/NWwNgC8eg2E/s1600/IMG_5010.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 218px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xT-dThNFA2k/Th9408z0FdI/AAAAAAAABg0/NWwNgC8eg2E/s320/IMG_5010.JPG%2BFM.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629350910308390354" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Quizá porque mi niñez </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">sigue jugando en tu playa...[ ] </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">[ ]...y amontonado en tu arena </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">guardo amor, juegos y penas... </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Juan Manuel Serrat</span><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-7327542424257819806?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-74691062579439238432011-07-14T20:13:00.000-03:002011-07-14T20:14:56.595-03:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AUdV8ujsYlo/Th94VUXI-2I/AAAAAAAABgs/Hqoj6R9CPN8/s1600/IMG_5138.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AUdV8ujsYlo/Th94VUXI-2I/AAAAAAAABgs/Hqoj6R9CPN8/s320/IMG_5138.JPG%2BFM.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629350366874762082" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;font-size:100%;" >Madre: cuéntame un cuento de ésos que se relatan<br />de un curioso enanito o de una audaz sirena;<br />tantos que de los genios maravillosos tratan.<br />Esas lindas historias que conoces. ¡Sé buena!...<br /><br />Marilina Rebora </span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-7469106257943923843?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-87549881318005712682011-07-14T20:11:00.002-03:002011-07-14T20:13:01.853-03:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m7tSfTkz6Aw/Th935byg1QI/AAAAAAAABgk/w3dGH1_kr-I/s1600/IMG_7591.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m7tSfTkz6Aw/Th935byg1QI/AAAAAAAABgk/w3dGH1_kr-I/s320/IMG_7591.JPG%2BFM.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629349887832282370" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">...crepitaban unánimes todos los girasoles </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">como un coro diáfano de astillas </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">y un pájaro de ámbar </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">cruza de pronto el cielo... </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Amparo Amoros</span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-8754988131800571268?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-22850312063819829982011-07-14T20:09:00.002-03:002011-07-14T20:11:09.984-03:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Iye9y_L62qQ/Th93d9CDZ-I/AAAAAAAABgc/hRLNKhVEJ3E/s1600/IMG_7214.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 206px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Iye9y_L62qQ/Th93d9CDZ-I/AAAAAAAABgc/hRLNKhVEJ3E/s320/IMG_7214.JPG%2BFM.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629349415719495650" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">...Mientras bajo del árbol </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">en mi caballo alado </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">recogía de cuatro pétalos </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">el final de mi infancia. </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Susurraban los pastos </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">los trinos se dormían </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">y a lo lejos se oía </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">a un tren que se marchaba... </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Marta Zabaleta </span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-2285031206381982998?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-39528997583984415862011-07-14T20:06:00.003-03:002011-07-14T20:08:47.597-03:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-28kzmoyCPTw/Th922KdjB8I/AAAAAAAABgU/l0O2kcz2rY0/s1600/IMG_5580.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 204px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-28kzmoyCPTw/Th922KdjB8I/AAAAAAAABgU/l0O2kcz2rY0/s320/IMG_5580.JPG%2BFM.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629348732129707970" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;font-size:100%;" >...porque el sol se nos hunde<br />y nadie nos enseña a gritar<br />porque somos el naufragio<br />de nuestro único cuerpo lleno de vida<br />y de ignorancia por vivirla.<br /><br />Kyra Galván </span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-3952899758398441586?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-37088561153795412382011-07-14T20:04:00.000-03:002011-07-14T20:05:42.847-03:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bTQJt3nqQjM/Th92K7axIGI/AAAAAAAABgE/qQCAYt5xZjg/s1600/IMG_7549.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bTQJt3nqQjM/Th92K7axIGI/AAAAAAAABgE/qQCAYt5xZjg/s320/IMG_7549.JPG%2BFM.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629347989357142114" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;font-size:100%;" >...de cara al cielo, dices de repente:<br />«La estrella de la tarde está encendida».<br />Ávidos buscan su fulgor mis ojos<br />a través de la bruma, y ascendemos<br />por el hilo de luz...<br /><br />Porfirio Barba Jacob </span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-3708856115379541238?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-42911302833457189792011-07-14T20:00:00.000-03:002011-07-14T20:04:07.900-03:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7FcNgp9rwX0/Th91yPyo2FI/AAAAAAAABf8/2Q9R3ZIfrq8/s1600/IMG_7498.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 202px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7FcNgp9rwX0/Th91yPyo2FI/AAAAAAAABf8/2Q9R3ZIfrq8/s320/IMG_7498.JPG%2BFM.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629347565329242194" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;font-size:100%;" >...El tiempo nos dirá<br />si llevan vientos claros<br />las fuerzas para andar.<br />Un silbido en la oscuridad,<br />penetrando en la atmósfera<br />del suelo que enseño el empeño,<br />será la voz y el eco sincero<br />para hallar...<br /><br />Walter Carabajal</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-4291130283345718979?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-3002609805254502232011-06-26T14:26:00.002-03:002011-06-26T14:27:47.498-03:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ySjTRcfIfB4/Tgdr_X7nuVI/AAAAAAAABf0/ONSu6g-r4iY/s1600/IMG_5150.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 231px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ySjTRcfIfB4/Tgdr_X7nuVI/AAAAAAAABf0/ONSu6g-r4iY/s320/IMG_5150.JPG%2BFM.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622581396295366994" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">De tierra adentro tu ancho corazón, </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">tu estar serena. ¿Pero has visto el mar? </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Te contaré que soy el mar y puedes </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">creerme. Allá en mi patria, cuando había </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">un niño solo junto al mar, viniste... </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Carlos Sahagún </span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-300260980525450223?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-16304758802778626692011-06-26T14:24:00.002-03:002011-06-26T14:25:41.512-03:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4dH67MEiy8w/Tgdrhn-9aUI/AAAAAAAABfs/wqLPrKHlzXQ/s1600/IMG_7503.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 198px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4dH67MEiy8w/Tgdrhn-9aUI/AAAAAAAABfs/wqLPrKHlzXQ/s320/IMG_7503.JPG%2BFM.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622580885208262978" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">...La materia regresa a su costumbre. </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Que del agua un relámpago deslumbre </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">o un sólido de humo </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">tenga en un cielo ilimitado y tenso </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">un instante a los ojos en suspenso... </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Jorge Cuesta </span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-1630475880277862669?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-54011204070865975452011-06-26T14:22:00.002-03:002011-06-26T14:23:56.277-03:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HKuOL-bEbPE/TgdrHOAl8AI/AAAAAAAABfk/ES-ljXVO-tU/s1600/IMG_7508.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 206px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HKuOL-bEbPE/TgdrHOAl8AI/AAAAAAAABfk/ES-ljXVO-tU/s320/IMG_7508.JPG%2BFM.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622580431559192578" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">...Mi campo conserva cosas </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">guardadas en su silencio, </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">que yo gané campo ajuera; que </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">yo perdí... tiempo adentro... </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Osiris Rodríguez Castillo</span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-5401120407086597545?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-15483608920287509542011-06-26T14:20:00.002-03:002011-06-26T14:22:06.019-03:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tKnhXSbrf08/TgdqriY6lwI/AAAAAAAABfc/ceX-hQygf1A/s1600/IMG_4815.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tKnhXSbrf08/TgdqriY6lwI/AAAAAAAABfc/ceX-hQygf1A/s320/IMG_4815.JPG%2BFM.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622579955993581314" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Como deja la red </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">el pescador bajo el crepúsculo </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">soltaré mi poema. </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Juana Rosa Pita </span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-1548360892028750954?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-31838298415902244492011-06-26T14:18:00.001-03:002011-06-26T14:20:20.245-03:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NcvNHP4A1-w/TgdqNS5EqGI/AAAAAAAABfU/NrEBUY_GJps/s1600/IMG_6078.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 182px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NcvNHP4A1-w/TgdqNS5EqGI/AAAAAAAABfU/NrEBUY_GJps/s320/IMG_6078.JPG%2BFM.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622579436437416034" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">...A un costado del olvido </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">mi sueños madurarán, </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">reventando en luz, florecidos. </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Cuando llegue el alba </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">viviré, viviré. </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Letra: Waldo Belloso </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Música: Abel Figueroa</span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-3183829841590224449?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-62918222605337749052011-06-26T14:16:00.002-03:002011-06-26T14:18:40.800-03:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QSq_OvbuwAg/Tgdp0rdrDEI/AAAAAAAABfM/HCD2xAW3cEs/s1600/IMG_4813.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 237px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QSq_OvbuwAg/Tgdp0rdrDEI/AAAAAAAABfM/HCD2xAW3cEs/s320/IMG_4813.JPG%2BFM.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622579013536648258" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">...Si hay bajamar </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">padecen los cetáceos </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Si hay bajamar </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">no acudes </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">indulgente y desnuda </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">a la cita de la suerte. </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Jorge Ruiz Dueñas </span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-6291822260533774905?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-79027946264726896092011-06-26T14:14:00.000-03:002011-06-26T14:16:05.174-03:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YuqfpUc_Xcg/TgdpN-p0zTI/AAAAAAAABfE/pWO9jGflpoQ/s1600/IMG_5045.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 206px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YuqfpUc_Xcg/TgdpN-p0zTI/AAAAAAAABfE/pWO9jGflpoQ/s320/IMG_5045.JPG%2BFM.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622578348672994610" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Tendrán que venir los ojos del estío, </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">ojos perfilados al horizonte como lunas </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">o albercas turbias de espejos más recientes... </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Josela Maturana </span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-7902794626472689609?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-22130797654372061022011-06-26T14:12:00.000-03:002011-06-26T14:13:58.532-03:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-s_IE1tSm0vg/TgdosjHJvjI/AAAAAAAABe8/vxuX-vNELlc/s1600/IMG_3701.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 205px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-s_IE1tSm0vg/TgdosjHJvjI/AAAAAAAABe8/vxuX-vNELlc/s320/IMG_3701.JPG%2BFM.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622577774344126002" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">...Y nada alrededor. La boca mueve </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">sus alas sin sonido, sin sentido, </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">entre el agua y el huerto, </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">entre hueso temprano y légamo futuro, </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">entre el cero y el cero. </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Entre el cero y su carga. </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Julia Uceda Valiente </span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-2213079765437206102?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-4222146720941970392011-06-26T14:09:00.001-03:002011-06-26T14:12:13.815-03:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_w-2yEL2QMU/TgdoMX4W0vI/AAAAAAAABe0/FraEePbTyto/s1600/IMG_3670.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 251px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_w-2yEL2QMU/TgdoMX4W0vI/AAAAAAAABe0/FraEePbTyto/s320/IMG_3670.JPG%2BFM.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622577221573464818" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">...abeja es cada expresión </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">que, volando del papel, </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">deja en los labios la miel </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">y pica en el corazón. </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Rubén Darío</span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-422214672094197039?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-15340565973768131672011-06-26T14:08:00.002-03:002011-06-26T14:09:40.553-03:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SBoaGXfgFv4/TgdnpjkTTgI/AAAAAAAABes/SATExtI6630/s1600/IMG_6151.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 195px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SBoaGXfgFv4/TgdnpjkTTgI/AAAAAAAABes/SATExtI6630/s320/IMG_6151.JPG%2BFM.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622576623415152130" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">...Y en lo más alto del vuelo algo estalla en nosotros y caemos</span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">vencidos por la fuerza de nuestro propio ecuador que se ha quebrado.</span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Pero seguimos siendo Cielo aunque yazgamos en tierra.</span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Derrumbados en tierra pero Cielo.</span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Tierra revuelta y dulce pero Cielo.</span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Cielo vencido cielo revolcado pero Tierra.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Efraín Bartolomé</span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-1534056597376813167?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-30839297071908452102011-06-26T14:05:00.001-03:002011-06-26T14:07:39.781-03:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1UR5xqoeLPY/TgdnObepfaI/AAAAAAAABek/Nj0z5OyeA24/s1600/IMG_6123.JPG%2BFM.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 206px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1UR5xqoeLPY/TgdnObepfaI/AAAAAAAABek/Nj0z5OyeA24/s320/IMG_6123.JPG%2BFM.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622576157387488674" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">...Calle: mi verso pronto irá hacia ti </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">honrado de emociones, como un abrazo </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">que anticipa olvido y soledades. </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Norah Lange</span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-3083929707190845210?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2924316082385924986.post-22472487931128951442011-06-26T14:03:00.002-03:002011-06-26T14:05:14.098-03:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-874IzBt-J9Q/TgdmqTK1wbI/AAAAAAAABec/zLJo27apHdg/s1600/IMG_6145.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-874IzBt-J9Q/TgdmqTK1wbI/AAAAAAAABec/zLJo27apHdg/s320/IMG_6145.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622575536681632178" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">...Tal vez de puro cansancio, nomás, </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Le dí rienda a cada tiempo, </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">sin darme cuenta que el tiempo se va, </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">aunque esté en cada momento... </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">José Larralde</span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2924316082385924986-2247248793112895144?l=palabrasimagenes.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jorge Zanguitu Fernándezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09153264250997828371noreply@blogger.com0