Competencia Comunicativa

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la-competenza-comunicativa
Análisis del español aprendido como L1 y español aprendido como L2

La competencia comunicativa es uno de los conceptos más importantes de la lingüística, esto es importante tanto en la adquisición de la lengua materna como en la adquisición de una segunda y además es muy importante a un nivel práctico, lo de la enseñanza de una lengua.
Antes de describir que es la competencia comunicativa se necesita explicar que es la lengua y que significa aprenderla:

La lengua es un instrumento de comunicación y pensamiento utilizado por un grupo de personas, que puede ser verbal o escrito, basada en símbolos sonoros o gráficos. Una persona puede hablar más de una lengua y si es así, se suele clasificarlas en lengua materna (adquirida en la infancia) y otra lengua (adquirida en el curso de la vida): este ensayo se referirá a estos dos términos como L1 y L2.

Aprender una lengua significa conocer y saber utilizar sus reglas gramaticales y sus convenciones.

El término de competencia comunicativa fue acuñado por Dell Hymes, antropólogo y sociolingüista de los estados unidos, al final de los años 60 (1966) y se concentra en la capacidad de un ser humano de comprender la lengua y saber producir un discurso con esta, el saber usar intuitivamente sus principales funciones.

Citando el Centro Virtual Cervantes “La competencia comunicativa es la capacidad de una persona para comportarse de manera eficaz y adecuada en una determinada comunidad de habla” (http://cvc.cervantes.es/ensenanza/biblioteca_ele/diccio_ele/diccionario/competenciacomunicativa.htm)

¿Pero que es una comunidad de habla? Es un grupo social de hablantes que comparten una lengua y el uso de esa.

La competencia lingüística, según M. Canale (1983), es formada por cuatros componentes: Competencia Lingüística, competencia sociolingüística, competencia discursiva y la competencia estratégica.

  1. La competencia lingüística es el conocimiento del código del lenguaje: su gramática y su vocabulario, su sonidos y sus pronunciaciones (Fonética), el conocimiento de las reglas que manejan la interacción entre los sonidos (Fonología), su reglas ortográficas y los signos de puntuación (Ortografía), el conocimiento de las reglas de formación de palabras (Morfología), su reglas de pronunciación y la habilidad de poder leer un texto escrito en una lengua específica (Ortoepía) y por fin conocer y saber distinguir los significados de las palabras.
  2. La competencia sociolingüística es el conocimiento de las reglas socioculturales de un lenguaje específico, por ejemplo, conocer los “Taboo” de una cultura, sus reglas de educación y cuando se deben utilizar, etc.
  3. La competencia discursiva es el saber cómo se produce y se entiende un texto, tanto oral como escrito. El saber combinar las estructuras del lenguaje en diferentes contextos.
  4. La competencia estratégica es la habilidad de mantener el canal de comunicación abierto en diferentes situaciones de dificultad en un lenguaje target, por ejemplo, recursos de autobservación, corrección, adaptación, etc.

Sucesivamente otros autores como Van Ek añadieron la competencia sociocultural y la competencia social.

Hay tres corrientes que aportaron a la construcción del concepto de competencia comunicativa: La corriente pragmática, el análisis del discurso y la funcionalista. Entre estas tres corrientes hay lingüistas muy importantes como Martinet, Jackobson, el mismo Hymes y M.A.K. Halliday y todos se enfocaron en sus estudios sobre el significado de competencia comunicativa y la función del lenguaje.

Ahora el ensayo se enfocará en el aprendizaje del español como L1 y el aprendizaje del español como L2 y que rol tiene la competencia comunicativa en estos dos procesos.

El momento más adecuado para el desarrollo de la competencia comunicativa y como consecuencia el aprendizaje de una lengua, y en este caso en particular del español, es la infancia porque uno no es todavía anclado a las coerciones de la lengua materna.

Halliday, a diferencia de Jackobson, se opone a la idea de “adquisición de la lengua”: él está de acuerdo con la noción de desarrollo; lo que los niños adquieren es una “amplitud de potencial de significación” (Halliday, 1982 p.42) y todo se puede relacionar a una constante “expresión-contenido” y por eso Halliday divide el lenguaje entre macrofunciones (Interpersonal, ideacional y textual) y microfunciones (Símil a los de Jackobson).

¿Cómo se desarrolla la competencia lingüística en L1 en los niños hispanohablantes? El desarrollo empieza desde los primeros instantes en que el niño inicia a entender el ambiente que lo rodea, en este contexto juegan un rol importante el ambiente y las interacciones del niño.

Se puede decir que el aprendizaje de una lengua materna, en este caso del español en España, es implícito y desavisado, es algo que se adquiere naturalmente: ej. El niño/niña aprende las palabras más utilizadas en el ambiente familiar como mama o papa; El niño/niña no tiene una consciente relación entre el significado de la palabra “mama” y su mama.

Después de un general conocimiento del mundo por parte del niño otro rol importante es lo de la escuela y de la enseñanza, el rol del profesor: en este contexto el profesor enseña a utilizar la lengua como medio de comunicación, instalando en los niños hispanohablantes los conocimientos de gramática y de vocabulario específico. La enseñanza del español como lengua materna y en un ambiente donde el español es la lengua oficial, es encentrado sobre todo en la oralidad. Al final de la escuela primaria el niño/niña ya ha empezado a construir su competencia comunicativa: es capaz de hacer una conversación, tiene una buena gramática y un vocabulario básico y empieza a tener cuenta tanto en “lo que se dice” como en “lo que una persona quiere decir”.

Como observa Hymes “a child becomes able to accomplish a repertoire of speech acts, to take part in speech events, and to evaluate their accomplishment by others.” (Hymes 1972, 277)

¿Hay algunas diferencias entre las competencias comunicativas en L1 y L2? Hay muchas diferencias entre el desarrollo de una competencia comunicativa en español L1 y una en español L2: el aprendizaje en esta ruta es explicito, es consciente y enfocado en el conocimiento de todos los aspectos de la lengua. Cuando un hombre quiere adquirir una segunda lengua, él quiere que su estudio de la lengua no sea simplemente teórico sino un estudio educativo e instructivo para que el hombre pueda interiorizar esta nueva lengua y darle un uso práctico. El aprendizaje de la competencia comunicativa en esta nueva lengua puede ser más fácil porque según el Centro Cervantes Virtual “Así, se comprende que, independientemente del modo de enseñanza, el aprendiente tienda a relacionar la L2 y su cultura con su L1 y su propia cultura, es decir, se sirve de los conocimientos que ya posee para facilitarse el aprendizaje de los nuevos conocimientos léxicos, gramaticales, socioculturales, etc” (http://cvc.cervantes.es/ensenanza/biblioteca_ele/diccio_ele/diccionario/lenguameta.htm)

Por ejemplo, para un hombre italiano es más fácil obtener una competencia comunicativa en español, porque estas dos lenguas comparten algunos aspectos de gramática, las estructuras de los verbos, vocabularios y tal vez, algunos aspectos culturales.

Al final se puede decir que la competencia comunicativa es algo muy importante para una orientación favorable a la relación humana y al dominio de técnicas que mejoran el proceso de comunicación. La competencia comunicativa, citando Lázara Raquel Sosa “contribuye significativamente al mejoramiento humano y a la expresión y desarrollo en el hombre de todas sus posibilidades.” (Lázara Raquel Sosa – Biblioteca virtual de Derecho, Economía y Ciencias Sociales)

 

 

 

Bibliografía:

(@TheBardsBlog)

of Dreary Duplicity and Damnable Duality

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szzoixjsiqpc61ntqwhdA Study of the Concept of the Double in Poe

Edgar Allan Poe (1809 – 1849), arguably the most melodramatic American writer of his period, was one of the most innovative and important re-inventers of Gothic Literature, as well as a key figure in the literary world of the 19th century.

Born in Boston, in his stormy life he has been a critic, a lecturer, a magazine editor — but above all, a poet and a short story writer.

He introduced to the English-speaking word the Horror short story, although critics accused him of appropriating the Horror genre from German literature — an allegation to which Poe promptly answered: “if in many of my productions terror has been the thesis, I maintain that terror is not of Germany, but of the soul.” (qtd. In E.A.Poe, Preface for the tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque, Worth Literary Classics, 2008 p. 1)

The Gothic fiction is a genre, its origins set in 1770, that combines both fiction and horror, the main purpose of which is that of instilling a pleasing sort of terror in the reader. The term “gothic” refers to the Gothic architectural style, which bears a resemblance to the medieval one and denotes the specific setting of most stories.

Poe’s Gothic fiction is not mimetic, it does not reflect society or nature; rather, it turns away from the world, taking the psyche, the internal cries and desires of human beings as its main subjects: his story “The Fall of The House of Usher” (1839), for instance, explores the “terrors of the soul”  while revisiting classic Gothic tropes of aristocratic decay, death, and madness.  Poe’s intention is that of generating, through a careful use of language and the figure of the Double, that sinking feeling of despair in the heart and mind of the reader.
This essay is going to analyze the use of, and the symbolism behind, the figure of the Double, taking as examples two of Poe’s short stories: “William Wilson” and “The Fall Of The House Of Usher”.
Throughout different Gothic texts, Doubles are seen in various forms and shapes: Doppelgangers, shadows, twins, alter egos and, obviously, mirror images. The Historical background of the concept of the Double is rooted in German Romanticism, and its aim is that of expressing every poet’s and writer’s and artist’s constant struggle within themselves.

As a matter of fact, in Romantic text the author always shows two conflicting sides: one is constantly aware of the limits of a mortal existence, never failing to recall the shadow of death that looms over them, while the other one is engaged in a continuous, yet hopeless, pursuit of the infinite — that is how the concept of the Double is born, the idea of this “second persona”, a dubious identity which blurres the lines between the original and their Doppelganger.

But what exactly is a Doppelganger?

The term literally refers to “a ghostly counterpart of the living person”(Merriam Webster’s Dictionary, 2004) and it is a popular symbol of horror literature — not necessarily seen as evil, like in “The Picture of Dorian Grey” or “Dr. Jackyll and Mr. Hyde”, but more as a thing of visual and conceptual fascination and terror.
The Concept of the Double, however, has always been used to underline the self-estrangement and the self-destruction of the main characters; there is one way in particular through which the device expresses such duality: on one hand, one-half of the protagonist yields to their hidden desires, and this face of the coin could represent the Freudian’s Id: “we call it a chaos, a cauldron full of seething excitations. […] It is filled with energy reaching it from the instincts, but it has no organization, produces no collective will, but only a striving to bring about the satisfaction of the instinctual needs subject to the observance of the pleasure principle” (Sigmund Freud, New Introductory Lectures on Psychoanalysis, 1933, Penguin Freud Library pp. 105–6); whereas the other side acts as the controlled one, representing the consciousness that keeps the main protagonist from succumbing to those very same obscure, and oftentimes profoundly destructive, desires.

The Figure of the Double has been widely used in visual forms of art as well, like in the painting  “Not to be Reproduced” (La reproduction interdite, 1937) of René Magritte; the Doppelganger could be considered not only one’s own physical substitute but also a hidden, darker side, as a reflection of one’s fear or feelings.

As for what concerns Edgar Allan Poe, one of the best examples of his obsession with the theme of the Double can be found in the story of “William Wilson”.

According to Hammond, “He [William] is the descendant of a race whose imaginative and easily excitable temperament has at all times rendered them remarkable” (qtd. In J.R.Hammond, An Edgar Allan Poe Companion, 1985 p.186).

Reluctant to reveal his true identity, the narrator in the beginning states “LET me call myself, for the present, William Wilson. The fair page now lying before me need not be sullied with my real appellation.” (qtd. In James M. Hutchisson, Selected Poetry and Tales, William Wilson, 2002, p. 206 ); as the story opens, William becomes a pupil of the school of Reverend Dr. Bransby and, while there, is embarrassed by the rivalry with another scholar bearing the same name and surname as himself.

Wilson becomes increasingly irritated by his namesake, who copies him in excruciating detail and seizes every opportunity of annoying and humiliating him. William feels that he is being conquered by his double: “a proof of his true superiority; since not to be overcome cost me a perpetual struggle”. Finally revealing the conflict between the two William Wilsons, the narrator addresses the other William Wilson as “Scoundrel! Impostor! Accursed villain!”. He labels his “twin” as “my tormentor” or as “my antagonist”, since his double always ruins his future plans.
At last, exasperated beyond endurance, he kills his antagonist with a sword, only to realize that in doing so he has destroyed the better part of himself.

In this short story, Poe clearly explores the mind of the Narrator through the use of the Double: his second self haunts him like a ghost, thus leading him to insanity and externalizing his internal struggle. The double in “William Wilson” serves as a “conscience” for the main character’s moral development — due to this, Wilson’s rejecting of the advice of his double, who was always ruining his evil and obscure plans, brings about his own moral death. Here is the reason Wilson can only comfort himself afterwards through the narration of his story.

In The Fall Of The House of Usher the Double echoes throughout the text. The story is set in the family mansion and domain of the House of Usher. Poe gives no clue as to its supposed location, except fot the fact that is situated in the midst of a “singularly dreary tract of country.” (qtd in “The Fall Of The House of Usher”, Norton Anthology of American Literature – shorter eighth edition, p. 702)

The story talks about the Usher twins, Roderick and his beloved Madeline, who is dying of a wasting disease. Roderick, feeling ill and depressed, invites the narrator, old companion and friend, to stay with him for a few weeks; while this friend is living in the mansion, Madeline dies and her brother decides to have the body entombed.

During a stormy night, Roderick and his companion discover that Madeleine has been buried alive: when she suddenly enters the room in which the twin is listening to the narrator read a gothic piece, the man dies of fright and she collapses on top of him. The narrator flees in terror, witnessing the fall of the House of Usher as it literally crumbles to the ground once he sets foot outside.
The tale marks the Gothic feature of the doppelganger and portrays doubles in both inanimate structures and literary forms, like the sight of the House reflected in a tarn, a mirror image presented to the narrator, a double but upside down: “I reined my horse to the precipitous brink of a black and lurid tarn that lay in unruffled lustre by the dwelling, and gazed down – but with a shudder even more thrilling than before – upon the re-modelled and inverted images of the gray sedge, and the ghastly tree-stems, and the vacant and eye-liked windows” (qtd in “The Fall Of The House of Usher”, Norton Anthology of American Literature – shorter eighth edition, p. 702).

The House itself could represent the double of the mind of Roderick Usher as his declining mental condition is echoed in the collapsing structure; the Usher House looks so fragile as to be about to fall.

Another interesting parallel is drawn between the story of sir Launcelot that the protagonist is reading and the sounds that can clearly be heard throughout the House: “[…] it appeared to me that, from some very remote portion of the mansion or of its vicinity, there came, indistinctly, to my ears, what might have been, in its exact similarity of character the echo of the very cracking and ripping sound which Sir Launcelot had so particularly described.” (qtd in “The Fall Of The House of Usher”, Norton Anthology of American Literature – shorter eighth edition, p. 712).

There is one other important thing that needs to be underlined as an expression of the concept of the Double: Roderick and Madeline Usher’s relationship. One might say that Madeline represents the mirror image, a physical depiction of Roderick’s psychological deteriorating state; the elimination of one sibling thus spells the end of the other, for when Madeline dies, her twin brother becomes more disturbed and fearful, almost as if his mind has dwindled as well.

A different interpretation is a more spiritual one — that Roderick represents the body and Madeline the soul, two connected sides of a human being that have no reason to exist without the other.

In conclusion, the symbolism of the Double is used in a variety of manners all over Poe’s short stories, yet its aim remains constant: to show the self-estrangement, the hidden desires and constant struggle within the characters involved, which eventually leads to their self-destruction — as seen in Wilson’s assassination of his “Conscience” and in the decay of the House of Usher. It is also important to note that the two sides of the Double are mutually necessary; they complete each other, coexist in a certain sort of harmony, and yet this balance is so easily worn and torn that it oftentimes results in the fall of both parts.

Bibliography:

  • Nina Baym, Robert S. Levine, The Norton Anthology of American Literature – Shorter 8th edition, Norton, 2013
  • R. Hammond, An Edgar Allan Poe Companion, The Macmillan Press LTD, London, 1985
  • Sigmund Freud, New Introductory Lectures on Psychoanalysis, Penguin Freud Library, 1933
  • Merriam-Webster, Merriam-Webster’s Concise Dictionary of English Usage, Merriam.Webster, 2002
  • James M. Hutchisson, Selected Poetry and Tales, Broadview Edition, 2002
  • Edgar Allan Poe, Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque, Worth Literary Classics, University of Michigan, 2008Gian Marco Federico

Poet’s Corner III

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Polaris 

by 

H. P. Lovecraft
Into the North Window of my chamber glows the Pole Star with uncanny light. All through the long hellish hours of blackness it shines there. And in the autumn of the year, when the winds from the north curse and whine, and the red-leaved trees of the swamp mutter things to one another in the small hours of the morning under the horned waning moon, I sit by the casement and watch that star. Down from the heights reels the glittering Cassiopeia as the hours wear on, while Charles’ Wain lumbers up from behind the vapour-soaked swamp trees that sway in the night wind. Just before dawn Arcturus winks ruddily from above the cemetary on the low hillock, and Coma Berenices shimmers weirdly afar off in the mysterious east; but still the Pole Star leers down from the same place in the black vault, winking hideously like an insane watching eye which strives to convey some strange message, yet recalls nothing save that it once had a message to convey. Sometimes, when it is cloudy, I can sleep.

Well do I remember the night of the great Aurora, when over the swamp played the shocking corruscations of the demon light. After the beam came clouds, and then I slept.
And it was under a horned waning moon that I saw the city for the first time. Still and somnolent did it lie, on a strange plateau in a hollow between strange peaks. Of ghastly marble were its walls and its towers, its columns, domes, and pavements. In the marble streets were marble pillars, the upper parts of which were carven into the images of grave bearded men. The air was warm and stirred not. And overhead, scarce ten degrees from the zenith, glowed that watching Pole Star. Long did I gaze on the city, but the day came not. When the red Aldebaran, which blinked low in the sky but never set, had crawled a quarter of the way around the horizon, I saw light and motion in the houses and the streets. Forms strangely robed, but at once noble and familiar, walked abroad and under the horned waning moon men talked wisdom in a tongue which I understood, though it was unlike any language which I had ever known. And when the red Aldebaran had crawled more than half-way around the horizon, there were again darkness and silence.
When I awaked, I was not as I had been. Upon my memory was graven the vision of the city, and within my soul had arisen another and vaguer recollection, of whose nature I was not then certain. Thereafter, on the cloudy nights when I could not sleep, I saw the city often; sometimes under the hot, yellow rays of a sun which did not set, but which wheeled low in the horizon. And on the clear nights the Pole Star leered as never before.
Gradually I came to wonder what might be my place in that city on the strange plateau betwixt strange peaks. At first content to view the scene as an all-observant uncorporeal presence, I now desired to define my relation to it, and to speak my mind amongst the grave men who conversed each day in the public squares. I said to myself, “This is no dream, for by what means can I prove the greater reality of that other life in the house of stone and brick south of the sinister swamp and the cemetery on the low hillock, where the Pole Star peeps into my north window each night?”
One night as I listened to the discourses in the large square containing many statues, I felt a change; and perceived that I had at last a bodily form. Nor was I a stranger in the streets of Olathoe, which lies on the plateau of Sarkia, betwixt the peaks of Noton and Kadiphonek. It was my friend Alos who spoke, and his speech was one that pleased my soul, for it was the speech of a true man and patriot. That night had the news come of Daikos’ fall, and of the advance of the Inutos; squat, hellish yellow fiends who five years ago had appeared out of the unknown west to ravage the confines of our kingdom, and to besiege many of our towns. Having taken the fortified places at the foot of the mountains, their way now lay open to the plateau, unless every citizen could resist with the strength of ten men. For the squat creatures were mighty in the arts of war, and knew not the scruples of honour which held back our tall, grey-eyed men of Lomar from ruthless conquest.
Alos, my friend, was commander of all the forces on the plateau, and in him lay the last hope of our country. On this occasion he spoke of the perils to be faced and exhorted the men of Olathoe, bravest of the Lomarians, to sustain the traditions of their ancestors, who when forced to move southward from Zobna before the advance of the great ice sheet (even as our descendents must some day flee from the land of Lomar) valiently and victoriously swept aside the hairly, long-armed, cannibal Gnophkehs that stood in their way. To me Alos denied the warriors part, for I was feeble and given to strange faintings when subjected to stress and hardships. But my eyes were the keenest in the city, despite the long hours I gave each day to the study of the Pnakotic manuscripts and the wisdom of the Zobnarian Fathers; so my friend, desiring not to doom me to inaction, rewarded me with that duty which was second to nothing in importance. To the watchtower of Thapnen he sent me, there to serve as the eyes of our army. Should the Inutos attempt to gain the citadel by the narrow pass behind the peak Noton and thereby surprise the garrison, I was to give the signal of fire which would warn the waiting soldiers and save the town from immediate disaster.
Alone I mounted the tower, for every man of stout body was needed in the passes below. My brain was sore dazed with excitement and fatigue, for I had not slept in many days; yet was my purpose firm, for I loved my native land of Lomar, and the marble city Olathoe that lies betwixt the peaks Noton and Kadiphonek.
But as I stood in the tower’s topmost chamber, I beheld the horned waning moon, red and sinister, quivering through the vapours that hovered over the distant valley of Banof. And through an opening in the roof glittered the pale Pole Star, fluttering as if alive, and leering like a fiend and tempter. Methought its spirit whispered evil counsel, soothing me to traitorous somnolence with a damnable rhythmical promise which it repeated over and over:
Slumber, watcher, till the spheres, 

Six and twenty thousand years 

Have revolv’d, and I return 

To the spot where now I burn. 

Other stars anon shall rise 

To the axis of the skies; 

Stars that soothe and stars that bless 

With a sweet forgetfulness: 

Only when my round is o’er 

Shall the past disturb thy door.
Vainly did I struggle with my drowsiness, seeking to connect these strange words with some lore of the skies which I had learnt from the Pnakotic manuscripts. My head, heavy and reeling, drooped to my breast, and when next I looked up it was in a dream, with the Pole Star grinning at me through a window from over the horrible and swaying trees of a dream swamp. And I am still dreaming.
In my shame and despair I sometimes scream frantically, begging the dream-creatures around me to waken me ere the Inutos steal up the pass behind the peak Noton and take the citadel by surprise; but these creatures are demons, for they laugh at me and tell me I am not dreaming. They mock me whilst I sleep, and whilst the squat yellow foe may be creeping silently upon us. I have failed in my duties and betrayed the marble city of Olathoe; I have proven false to Alos, my friend and commander. But still these shadows of my dreams deride me. They say there is no land of Lomar, save in my nocturnal imaginings; that in these realms where the Pole Star shines high, and red Aldebaran crawls low around the horizon, there has been naught save ice and snow for thousands of years of years, and never a man save squat, yellow creatures, blighted by the cold, called “Esquimaux.”
And as I writhe in my guilty agony, frantic to save the city whose peril every moment grows, and vainly striving to shake off this unnatural dream of a house of stone and brick south of a sinister swamp and a cemetery on a low hillock, the Pole Star, evil and monstrous, leers down from the black vault, winking hideously like an insane watching eye which strives to convey some message, yet recalls nothing save that it once had a message to convey.

Feed me!

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Violets are blue,
Your blood is red,
The window is open
I’m under your bed.

Violets are blue,
Your blood is red,
I’m coming you know
Off you I will fed.

Violets are blue,
Your blood is red,
Your agony I prefer
And by its scent I was led.

Violets were blue,
Your blood was red
Your wish is to move
But you’re torn to shreds

(By me)

Poet’s Corner II

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A Dream Within A Dream

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

by Edgar Allan Poe

Poet’s Corner

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A Poison Tree

By William Black

I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I waterd it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears:
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night.
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine.

And into my garden stole,
When the night had veild the pole;
In the morning glad I see;
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

My love letter to nobody

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It had already become day as he opened the big wooden door and stepped out of the shadows.

The sun had shown behind the eastern forest, bright and warm in the cloudless sky.

As his face smiled faintly he left a little white paper in front of his wooden house.

“My love letter to nobody” he said and instantly all the contents of this beloved letter resurfaced in his mind.

 

“If you read this line, remember not the hand that wrote it,

remember only the verse, a lover’s cry, to you who I never met in my life.

I tried to find you in everything that my heart held so dear:

I looked for you in the colours of the dawn, hoping that like morning dew you would come to me,

In the moonlight pale I wondered, if your beauty was as enchanting as many stories tells,

In the rain I wondered, if you would ever be mine one day,

I asked to the wildflowers, in those meadows of heavens, caring not about anything but themselves, if they ever met you once, if they ever knew your name,

then I realized you would never be there.

Maybe you were in all those delightful smiles that people used to give me since I was child,

Maybe you were in the sweet flavour of a bar of chocolate or in the sweet scent of a burning candle,

Maybe you were in a particular photograph, in an unspeakable desire, in a dear memory,

Maybe you were in the laugh of an innocent child,

in the glance of a mother,

in the concern of a father,

but you were not ,

and then I started again my endless pursuit of you.

I seeked you in the shelter of an embarassing hug

I imagined you in those snowbed stories,

I tried to find you in dreams, there, lost in my own world where I cared only for you,

I even tried to find you in the saddest moment of my life,

I searched for you in the pain of a loss,

I searched for you in my deepest fears,

I called for you, I screamed your name out loud

but you were not there nor here.

I hope I’ll understand some day, what’s the meaning of this crazy way of being.”

“This, I guess, is to tell you how much I loved you and craved for you…” he whispered

“But you didn’t care”.

Things are changing

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changing-landscape

Things are changing

but nothing changes

and still there are changes.

 

Once upon a time there was a boy,

a simple little boy, with his future in his hands.

By the seashore he stood when he made out a dove in the clearest sky.

The dove was flying, making him daydream of his future and the world still unseen.

He loafed, and looked at it, listening to the sweet sound of waves crashing against the shore,

the crystalline water tickling his bare feet,

the sun shining on his cheeks and the wind fondling his curly hair.

He breathed in the fragrance and knew it and liked it,

the sea was bewitching him, cuddling him in its white waves, in that silence

he believed that heavens held a sense of wonder.

In its white waves, that boy was dreaming.

 

Things are changing

but nothing changes

and still there are changes

 

Once upon a time there was a man,

in perfect health being, hoping for it to alter not until death.

He with aplomb in the midst of irrational things.

He with aplomb in the midst of a unique path.

He with aplomb in the midst of his adamant will.

He with aplomb in the midst of his life.

Staring out the window, he made out an owl in the clearest sky.

He loafed, and looked at it, asking why. Why it had to be like that.

He was asking why but nobody gave an answer.

Looking at the sky he knew, for one day soon,

the dawn would come.

In that silence of spreading wings, that man was sinking.

 

Things are changing

but nothing changes

and still there are changes

 

Once upon a time there was an old man,

sitting on the shore he had so dreamed of.

There in the frailest moment of his time and yet his strongest hour,

there he shaded and hid his thoughts, he did not want to expose them

but they exposed themselves in the look of his embittered eyes,

There he saw a crow in the stormy sky.

He loafed, and looked at it, wondering of the untold desire that neither life nor land granted,

he breathed in that fragrance that he knew and liked it,

in that stormy night he believed

that passion chokes the flower until she cries no more,

possessing all its beauty and yet, still hungry for more.

In those stormy waves he closed his eyes,

that old man is silent,

that old man is breathing,

that old man is free.