Art-Poetics I Jorge Eduardo Eielson

I have decided to write a poem

Only one hundred verses nothing more
And so, without realizing it
I already have four black lines
On this white page
Which I hope to add the necessary
Before pass the desire
To continue writing verses
And start watching TV
Or watch me in the mirror
As I do every day
I who I shave slowly
And I count my wrinkles with care
Hoping to live long
For occasionally write
Some innocent poem
Possibly
Without sea or death
And so I have already twenty
Verses written in rhyming in enty
Those are now twenty two
That's just the age when I won
(Vulgarly speaking)
A poetry prize
In my country, the Peru
(Officially speaking)
And just the age also
That I fell in love
Of a girl dressed
Only in pants
With blond hair
And the rhyme in earths
Like our hearts
So young and so whiners
That we spent the nights
Loving us on the piers
Making thousand comparisons
Between love and the sea
The sea and the death
Love the sea and the death
With all variations
And implications
Till become raving
And close the rhyme in ing
Stumbling
With forty six pale verses
And sadness attached
To the word nothing
Although none of this is guess

In this frozen rhyme

While beauty slides
In a vocal bike
Under the waterfall
Of consonants for nothing
But to complete the wanted
End sum of this pregnant composition
Of tinkling and empty verses
That says nothing of the beloved
That says nothing at all
Because they have lost the joy
To say I love you I love you I love you
I love you I love you I love you I love you
Of spring and bathed things
For the celestial wet
When a spider web of gold extended
Among our youth
And our first verses
Under the palm trees or the saxophones
Walking in the sky
As Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers
While behind us
In the place of the beloved
Our brothers died without saying anything
They raised a fist
And with the other hand they pulled the trigger
Announcing the arrival of dawn
And the triumphant start
Of the rhyme in art
As if writing were just
Be fundamental
Take a doctoral look
Place the rhyme at end
Of each verse and pretend
Of each one the total
Of sound and genial content
Unaware that poetry
Escape of poets
As the flame to soot
And contrary to what you somebody thinks
In poetry and in life
The main thing (you have to be smart)
Is not what stays
But what is going
As kindly teach us orient people
And as I happily have reached the end
Of this masterful composition
(Because of the rhyme in ion)
Which now consists of ninety-nine black lines
On Especial Bond paper