AL MAESTRO

EL  MAESTRO                                                                                                                                                                                                     
El maestro es Ilusión                                                                                                                                                                                            Es esa mujer preñada                                                                                                                                                                                          Que irradia en cada pisada                                                                                                                                                                                El verde de la creación.                                                                                                                                                                            Entrega de corazón                                                                                                                                                                                               Arado sublime y granos                                                                                                                                                                                      Fecundando en los humanos                                                                                                                                                                          Luz de fe, sobre lo mundano                                                                                                                                                                                Consciente, que del futuro                                                                                                                                                                                    Él es el vientre y las manos.                                                                                                     

Si entre golpes del destino                                                                                                                                                                                La tragedia despiadada                                                                                                                                                                                    De un pueblo, no deja nada                                                                                                                                                                                  Un maestro abre el camino.                                                                                                                                                                          Entre el escombro asesino                                                                                                                                                                                Es la mano prodigiosa                                                                                                                                                                                       La mirada milagrosa                                                                                                                                                                                          Es la miel sobre el salitre                                                                                                                                                                                Que desde el noble pupitre                                                                                                                                                                           Planta vida en cada choza.                                                                                                          

Bajo todo movimiento                                                                                                                                                                                            Existe un maestro en pie                                                                                                                                                                                    Que se alimenta de fe                                                                                                                                                                                         Y arranca sueños al viento.                                                                                                                                                                           Ante el trágico momento                                                                                                                                                                                      Que trae sangrantes heridas                                                                                                                                                                              El maestro revive vida,                                                                                                                                                                                    Pues desde tiempos lejanos                                                                                                                                                                             Un maestro tiene mil manos                                                                                                                                                                              Que avivan cosas dormidas.                                                                                                         

Sin el maestro  no hay confianza                                                                                                                                                                        Él no  tiene marcha atrás                                                                                                                                                                                    Es ese labriego audaz                                                                                                                                                                                 
Que se siente en su labranza,                                                                                                                                                                          Ese que siembra esperanza                                                                                                                                                                                Sobre piedras, con porfía                                                                                                                                                                                  Sin el maestro, no sería                                                                                                                                                                                     El hombre la fértil fuente                           
De evolución permanente                                                                                                                                                                                  El mundo se estancaría.

Mery Suescún.

Submited by

Lunes, Mayo 20, 2019 - 21:10

Poesia :

Sin votos aún

PEDRO NEL JIMENEZ CASTAÑEDA

Imagen de PEDRO NEL JIMENEZ CASTAÑEDA
Desconectado
Título: Membro
Last seen: Hace 5 días 10 horas
Integró: 03/24/2011
Posts:
Points: 4838

Comentarios

Imagen de J. Thamiel

coment

muy bonita, felicitaciones

Add comment

Inicie sesión para enviar comentarios

other contents of PEDRO NEL JIMENEZ CASTAÑEDA

Tema Título Respuestas Lecturas Último envíoordenar por icono Idioma
Poesia/Intervención ASESOR DE CAMPAÑA SEGUNDA 0 25 11/07/2019 - 00:35 Español
Poesia/Intervención ASESOR DE CAMPAÑA 0 19 11/07/2019 - 00:32 Español
Poesia/Amistad TENGO UN AMIGO 0 50 10/26/2019 - 22:17 Español
Poesia/Amor DIOS QUISO 0 30 10/26/2019 - 14:08 Español
Poesia/Amor AYER Y HOY 50 AÑOS 0 25 10/26/2019 - 13:24 Español
Poesia/Amistad COMO SON LAS COSAS 0 19 10/21/2019 - 22:55 Español
Poesia/Amistad QUE DIOS TE PAGUE 0 20 10/21/2019 - 22:31 Español
Poesia/Amor COMO ASCENDER 0 43 10/21/2019 - 22:01 Español
Poesia/Amor HUBO UN GRITO 0 69 10/12/2019 - 22:49 Español
Poesia/Desilusión PARA QUE TANTO 0 28 10/12/2019 - 22:42 Español
Poesia/Amor YO SOY AQUEL 0 35 10/08/2019 - 19:58 Español
Poesia/Amistad EL SUEÑO 0 59 10/08/2019 - 18:37 Español
Poesia/Amistad A VER AMIGO ROSENDO 0 25 10/08/2019 - 18:22 Español
Poesia/Amistad CONTROVERSIA DE VERSOS 0 45 09/30/2019 - 21:01 Español
Poesia/Amor INCERTIDUMBRE. 0 46 09/27/2019 - 12:19 Español
Poesia/Desilusión EL CIUDADANO SOLITARIO 0 44 09/23/2019 - 22:52 Español
Poesia/Alegria EL AMOR Y LA AMISTAD 0 63 09/23/2019 - 22:46 Español
Poesia/Amistad LINDA ESPERA. 0 63 09/19/2019 - 16:48 Español
Poesia/Meditación SÓLO DIOS Y YO. 0 57 09/14/2019 - 00:18 Español
Poesia/Amistad TRATO CON DIOS 0 63 09/12/2019 - 00:30 Español
Poesia/Amistad CUANDO HERVA 0 50 09/06/2019 - 22:51 Español
Poesia/Meditación GRAN REFLEXIÓN 0 80 08/28/2019 - 23:51 Español
Poesia/Acróstico A MARÍA JOSÉ (ACRÓSTICO) 0 54 08/28/2019 - 23:04 Español
Poesia/Canción ME VOY LEJOS 0 126 08/23/2019 - 23:36 Español
Poesia/Meditación QUIERO DECIRLES AQUÍ 0 84 08/23/2019 - 22:38 Español