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 2 años 3 semanas
Integró: 03/24/2011
Posts:
Points: 5898

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 Respuestasordenar por icono Lecturas Último envío Idioma
Poesia/Meditación A LOS HIJOS DEL METRO 0 1.348 12/03/2015 - 20:10 Portuguese
Poesia/Amistad ENCUENTRO EN DECIMA 0 1.700 05/04/2020 - 20:52 Español
Poesia/Meditación SUEÑOS DE UN SER 0 1.113 05/03/2020 - 21:19 Español
Poesia/Amor MOTIVOS 0 948 04/30/2020 - 15:13 Español
Poesia/Amor CON NOMBRES DE 0 577 04/30/2020 - 15:02 Español
Poesia/Amor EN UN SUEÑO 0 706 04/30/2020 - 14:52 Español
Poesia/Amor YO SÉ QUE ES. 0 3.314 04/22/2020 - 21:11 Español
Poesia/Amor SE INICIA. 0 843 04/22/2020 - 21:07 Español
Poesia/Amor EN UN SUEÑO 0 734 04/22/2020 - 21:01 Español
Poesia/Amistad AQUÍ YO NO. 0 909 04/21/2020 - 02:20 Español
Poesia/Amor QUE PODRÍA HACER 0 727 04/21/2020 - 02:12 Español
Poesia/Desilusión MUY CLARA. 0 1.406 04/20/2020 - 10:16 Español
Poesia/Amor A POR ESO. 0 604 04/20/2020 - 09:58 Español
Poesia/Amistad LA RESPUESTA 0 1.440 04/20/2020 - 09:50 Español
Poesia/Meditación UN MILAGRO DE DIOS 0 907 04/19/2020 - 16:21 Español
Poesia/Meditación BRINDAME UN MINUTO 0 718 04/16/2020 - 17:28 Español
Poesia/Amor TODO LO QUE TE. 0 705 04/16/2020 - 04:03 Español
Poesia/Aforismo LAS ABRÍ EN CADA CASA 0 1.694 04/14/2020 - 19:02 Español
Poesia/Meditación PROTESTA AL CORONAVIRUS (VARIOS POETAS) 0 740 04/14/2020 - 18:18 Español
Poesia/Amor LINDOS PENSAMIENTOS. 0 707 04/06/2020 - 22:08 Español
Poesia/Amor NO QUIERO SOÑAR 0 604 04/06/2020 - 21:50 Español
Poesia/Amor SI TE RECUERDO 0 1.243 04/06/2020 - 21:12 Español
Poesia/Amor OBRA PARA DOS 0 674 09/03/2020 - 21:31 Español
Poesia/Meditación CUANDO ME DEJEN 0 1.234 04/01/2020 - 22:51 Español
Poesia/Meditación Y SI YO SOY ASÍ 0 629 01/08/2016 - 17:00 Español