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 - 22:10

Poesia :

Sin votos aún

PEDRO NEL JIMENEZ CASTAÑEDA

Imagen de PEDRO NEL JIMENEZ CASTAÑEDA
Desconectado
Título: Membro
Last seen: Hace 13 horas 7 mins
Integró: 03/24/2011
Posts:
Points: 5188

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/Amor QUE NECESITAN 0 512 06/17/2017 - 17:26 Español
Poesia/Amistad PASANDO POR LOS LLANOS 0 511 06/28/2017 - 03:27 Español
Poesia/Amistad PASANDO POR LOS LLANOS 0 869 06/28/2017 - 03:52 Español
Poesia/Erótico POR TERROR 0 646 07/08/2017 - 00:30 Español
Poesia/Amor CUANDO HAY SERES 0 504 07/20/2017 - 17:39 Español
Poesia/Meditación YO HE CAMINADO 0 573 08/05/2017 - 02:36 Español
Poesia/Dedicada ESTE INFORME 0 957 08/05/2017 - 02:39 Español
Ministério da Poesia/Amor ORACIÓN A DIOS. 0 1.263 08/05/2017 - 23:07 Español
Poesia/Amor PARA UNO PODER 0 409 08/16/2017 - 19:27 Español
Poesia/Amistad EN UN VIAJE 0 627 08/16/2017 - 19:36 Español
Poesia/Amistad SALUDO A DÉCIMERAS 0 546 08/19/2017 - 16:33 Español
Poesia/Amor SI TÚ SILENCIO 0 187 08/31/2017 - 14:58 Español
Poesia/Amor SIN OBSTACULOS 0 390 09/03/2017 - 17:00 Español
Poesia/Meditación QUE VIENE EL PAPA 0 411 09/06/2017 - 04:58 Español
Poesia/Canción MI NEGRA PRECIOSA 0 554 09/12/2017 - 16:19 Español
Poesia/Amor ME DIJO DIOS 0 652 09/28/2017 - 23:50 Español
Poesia/Amor ESTOY BUSCANDO 0 467 10/09/2017 - 23:44 Español
Poesia/Canción POR TÚ BENDITO 0 714 10/24/2017 - 02:51 Español
Poesia/Meditación SI PIERDES 0 375 11/03/2017 - 02:28 Español
Poesia/Meditación PÓNGASE A VER 0 703 11/14/2017 - 02:39 Español
Poesia/Meditación UNA VEZ HUBO 0 465 11/18/2017 - 16:53 Español
Poesia/Alegria CONTROVERCIA AL CELULAR 1 0 567 11/19/2017 - 23:27 Español
Poesia/Alegria CONTROVERCIA AL CELULAR 2 0 1.042 11/19/2017 - 23:38 Portuguese
Poesia/Amistad CUANDO UN AMIGO 0 516 11/24/2017 - 17:14 Español
Poesia/Erótico SOLO UNO 0 1.596 12/05/2017 - 03:41 Portuguese