tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72265036071336610172011-04-21T20:30:30.412-07:00OSCAR PARRA BARRIOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16370248406344602650noreply@blogger.comBlogger51100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7226503607133661017.post-23773632866619170472008-07-24T06:52:00.000-07:002008-12-10T06:01:22.115-08:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p6P7wvTlQZQ/SIiJmLdnT3I/AAAAAAAAABI/T7okeBdjK50/s1600-h/Imagen+065.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226578656568495986" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p6P7wvTlQZQ/SIiJmLdnT3I/AAAAAAAAABI/T7okeBdjK50/s320/Imagen+065.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;color:#663333;"><strong>EXTIENDE EL TIEMPO SU ATARRAYA</strong></span></p><p><strong>En el afanado abandono de los miedos</strong></p><p><strong>donde el inicio juega su último partido</strong></p><p><strong>Un desfile de generaciones que arden </strong></p><p><strong>arrastra miseria.</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>Ellos -los que decidieron revelársele al tiempo</strong></p><p><strong>han sido presas fáciles para el olvido</strong></p><p><strong>Ahora están en casa...</strong></p><p><strong>condenados a ser lo que siempre fueron.</strong></p><p><strong>Un <em>Oleaje de Siglos</em></strong></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7226503607133661017-2377363286661917047?l=oscarp1122.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>OSCAR PARRA BARRIOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16370248406344602650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7226503607133661017.post-39569920721305326992008-07-18T12:46:00.000-07:002008-07-18T13:14:46.486-07:00<object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-c603218eb7a89919" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"><param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v2.nonxt4.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dc603218eb7a89919%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331383401%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D820A8CCA1D9C2E3A16085D3CFD08E5D3C819ED3D.10ED96A2DCAFCEDD6F68BB977617335B4A5E2C4D%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dc603218eb7a89919%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3Dgy091-KrRVz3HnMvFY2umsXblgk&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v2.nonxt4.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dc603218eb7a89919%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331383401%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D820A8CCA1D9C2E3A16085D3CFD08E5D3C819ED3D.10ED96A2DCAFCEDD6F68BB977617335B4A5E2C4D%26key%3Dck1&iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dc603218eb7a89919%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3Dgy091-KrRVz3HnMvFY2umsXblgk&autoplay=0&ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /></object><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7226503607133661017-3956992072130532699?l=oscarp1122.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>OSCAR PARRA BARRIOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16370248406344602650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7226503607133661017.post-42537451323311691402008-06-23T17:24:00.000-07:002008-06-23T17:31:17.505-07:00<strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#660000;">ESTE SILENCIO</span><br /><span style="color:#000000;">que derrama la poesía</span><br />viene envuelto en un manto<br />de asombro<br /><br />¡y cae...<br />...cae!<br /><br />¡Dios, mio!...<br /><br />haz que el vacío<br />sea menos filoso<br /></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#660000;">AL OTRO LADO DE LAS ESTACIONES</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000000;">la ciudad contempla su funeral</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000000;">de risas</span></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>-Atame al silencio-</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>Sepúltame bajo los mágicos flirteos</strong><br /><strong>que arden a cada instante</strong><br /><strong>en la lejanía de la infancia</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#660000;">OLVIDO</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#660000;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000000;">Déjame abrazarte</span></strong><br /><strong>también estoy cansado de ese imperio absurdo</strong><br /><strong>de soledades</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>Bitácora de los trenes: </strong><strong>déjame cavar en ella</strong><br /><strong>mi propio suspiro</strong><br /><strong>o lo poco que me resta por perderte</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>mis huesos están pegados al mismisimo silencio...</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000000;"></span></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7226503607133661017-4253745132331169140?l=oscarp1122.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>OSCAR PARRA BARRIOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16370248406344602650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7226503607133661017.post-47865498329189802542008-06-23T17:16:00.001-07:002008-06-23T17:20:29.664-07:00<strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#660000;">CIUDAD PERDIDA</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#660000;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000000;">Sepultada como un libro abierto</span></strong><br /><strong>ante los mares</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>-con sus sepulcros húmedos-</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>somos el dolor de la piedra</strong><br /><strong>florecidos por el río</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#660000;">EN EL INFINITO</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#660000;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000000;">La tarde de frías costumbres</span></strong><br /><strong>La tarde sobre la línea negra</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>La tarde con su zarco condenado</strong><br /><strong>dando golpes al silencio</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>La tarde sepulturera</strong><br /><strong>anclada al talle de una ciudad suicida</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7226503607133661017-4786549832918980254?l=oscarp1122.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>OSCAR PARRA BARRIOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16370248406344602650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7226503607133661017.post-54399894501551255932008-06-23T16:54:00.000-07:002008-06-23T17:01:44.201-07:00<span style="font-size:130%;color:#660000;"><strong>OLEAJE DE SIGLOS</strong></span><br /><br /><strong>Ancla la tarde su miseria</strong><br /><strong>bajo el alcándara de los dioses</strong><br /><strong>el tiempo nos devora cual cadáveres dulces</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>-Siempre hemos sido presa fácil para el olvido-</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>Pero el mar...</strong><br /><strong>patrimonio que se ahoga en nuestra sangre</strong><br /><strong>nos devuelve la cercanía con lo que fuimos</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>Somos, desde siempre, ese oleaje de siglos</strong><br /><strong>la ciudad se hundió sin esperarnos</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#660000;">LA POESÍA AL FÍN NOMBRA</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#660000;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000000;">Este verbo que al fin nombra</span></strong><br /><strong>trae consigo su propio misterio:</strong><br /><strong>soledad</strong><br /><strong>asombro</strong><br /><strong>destrucción...</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>Una luz a punto de conjugarse</strong><br /><strong>...en esta brevedad infinita</strong><br /><strong></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7226503607133661017-5439989450155125593?l=oscarp1122.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>OSCAR PARRA BARRIOShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16370248406344602650noreply@blogger.com0