tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21961662032044252332024-03-14T13:59:53.509+01:00Las palabras y los díasPoemasSusana Corullónhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11183533567106048397noreply@blogger.comBlogger2013125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2196166203204425233.post-73995285515242999922024-03-14T13:59:00.000+01:002024-03-14T13:59:01.232+01:00Día de la Poesía <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrWjvTti4p5KsIjzmDpoRbVKy8sqRpMEmVrgH4jJn7mvPo4j1cuGmtJ-hIo6aErSVTI16-w9pWSRNryAqAU7xQ0VNa8_P12EB47DAJg89dtHjaRRR6LQTWyE5fJDg9dpxxwfAhVgP-8JLdEUm1FnthraI_o860MK2xViPLQwIsRepnDbqxw6UEwBWQqY4D/s2250/21%20marzo%20D%C3%ADa%20de%20la%20poes%C3%ADa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2250" data-original-width="2250" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrWjvTti4p5KsIjzmDpoRbVKy8sqRpMEmVrgH4jJn7mvPo4j1cuGmtJ-hIo6aErSVTI16-w9pWSRNryAqAU7xQ0VNa8_P12EB47DAJg89dtHjaRRR6LQTWyE5fJDg9dpxxwfAhVgP-8JLdEUm1FnthraI_o860MK2xViPLQwIsRepnDbqxw6UEwBWQqY4D/w640-h640/21%20marzo%20D%C3%ADa%20de%20la%20poes%C3%ADa.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /> El próximo jueves, en Vallecas, celebremos juntos el Día de la Poesía<p></p>Susana Corullónhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11183533567106048397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2196166203204425233.post-34891265148135713562024-03-04T08:53:00.002+01:002024-03-04T08:53:31.727+01:00Aurora<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4tiJvgAw09cwG41C1gTa54V-1rXu1Wh1EjOao4L69FtHDCTmHn3aq4X1TwA0zd4sNbIqCrS25VNyypv6dcpy9Euxc856fTkoMgQGTrpuo7Mi-alKC__gQ3XOWe4Y8TLRuC1oSyOo58vNXn-1tbJjJmck3cNvpZa8BDtT_1ZIWyJ3mzBT3JUVSFpKXPDV7/s2681/IMG_20240303_110421.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2681" data-original-width="2147" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4tiJvgAw09cwG41C1gTa54V-1rXu1Wh1EjOao4L69FtHDCTmHn3aq4X1TwA0zd4sNbIqCrS25VNyypv6dcpy9Euxc856fTkoMgQGTrpuo7Mi-alKC__gQ3XOWe4Y8TLRuC1oSyOo58vNXn-1tbJjJmck3cNvpZa8BDtT_1ZIWyJ3mzBT3JUVSFpKXPDV7/w320-h400/IMG_20240303_110421.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> Al lado del sol,<p></p><p>que devuelve al día</p><p>la luz y los colores,</p><p>mi cabeza en la almohada</p><p>es muy pequeña</p>Susana Corullónhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11183533567106048397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2196166203204425233.post-6787105387904260232024-02-05T16:17:00.000+01:002024-02-05T16:17:07.652+01:00Credencial<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIyX40SvDYS1CYtHxpZnjiB9XdfcWxpvoyQR6tYpvV35v1C2tgWpQlDNbY4OoD-6kyl601UXknM58qECiJUO1UPh7WCrXuGblZDg4leEyUOeJvk2cgv1w-zhgXmdA6j07QZPtyuBDlcftBmwnN6ubrw_qnEBupCjIuz96EOzBbuixyAqfTZaERDjZSfxF7/s3042/IMG_20240204_111524.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1988" data-original-width="3042" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIyX40SvDYS1CYtHxpZnjiB9XdfcWxpvoyQR6tYpvV35v1C2tgWpQlDNbY4OoD-6kyl601UXknM58qECiJUO1UPh7WCrXuGblZDg4leEyUOeJvk2cgv1w-zhgXmdA6j07QZPtyuBDlcftBmwnN6ubrw_qnEBupCjIuz96EOzBbuixyAqfTZaERDjZSfxF7/w400-h261/IMG_20240204_111524.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Olvidé lo que hice ayer<p></p><p>como olvidan los siglos</p><p>el trazo en la piedra.</p><p>Tengo derecho a presentar</p><p>mi currículo de días iguales</p><p>para ganar la plaza</p>Susana Corullónhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11183533567106048397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2196166203204425233.post-73375619117447875732024-01-22T13:05:00.003+01:002024-01-22T13:05:52.911+01:00Banco<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1sWx7aI6CRoVSpIK9Rf363HoVb7GSGPXtFefWZ4dMdhPB8w1SMKDscqxVDWhHvTYhFbjFmUwFvgBYEtPv6hlClJ6gJNDvlz3s32AzuB1iSwggBmuJerk-c4OGuCeBTS4oT4VIqir2-YkfvS9uiICrqyGXCKzmqCc5qazQ_lldPaCgvMtKwnK99Y6Xipu9/s2938/IMG_20240121_111718.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2938" data-original-width="2151" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1sWx7aI6CRoVSpIK9Rf363HoVb7GSGPXtFefWZ4dMdhPB8w1SMKDscqxVDWhHvTYhFbjFmUwFvgBYEtPv6hlClJ6gJNDvlz3s32AzuB1iSwggBmuJerk-c4OGuCeBTS4oT4VIqir2-YkfvS9uiICrqyGXCKzmqCc5qazQ_lldPaCgvMtKwnK99Y6Xipu9/w293-h400/IMG_20240121_111718.jpg" width="293" /></a></div>Entro sin llamar, <p></p><p>siempre está abierto</p><p>y hay calor,</p><p>se trae amor</p><p>y se recoge</p><p>multiplicado</p>Susana Corullónhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11183533567106048397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2196166203204425233.post-14630347717663173162023-12-31T18:38:00.000+01:002023-12-31T18:38:29.208+01:00Contento<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwA7n0vpvbYfseCUbopl-IZLviUyJAQN8xZwOwhgEFhXHVDZtZvlighHKYYBSv29wJCoGtGLb_QiMR3yuMyieilbhqY63KfyFC32bs9P0NdPZlolCcIngcLhGJGMSiIiEYcS-YYUd2vDgvPqIOwPMTR7WrkTDyRvdEj5ER0H-h5fS86oyjXI-w3OO47E4b/s2879/IMG_20231231_165200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1880" data-original-width="2879" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwA7n0vpvbYfseCUbopl-IZLviUyJAQN8xZwOwhgEFhXHVDZtZvlighHKYYBSv29wJCoGtGLb_QiMR3yuMyieilbhqY63KfyFC32bs9P0NdPZlolCcIngcLhGJGMSiIiEYcS-YYUd2vDgvPqIOwPMTR7WrkTDyRvdEj5ER0H-h5fS86oyjXI-w3OO47E4b/w400-h261/IMG_20231231_165200.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>CONTENTO nada más<p></p><p>que por vivir,</p><p>sale música sola</p><p>de los goznes del día</p>Susana Corullónhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11183533567106048397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2196166203204425233.post-36222768433059212662023-12-10T12:29:00.000+01:002023-12-10T12:29:17.455+01:00Latido<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4WUL9m84ySkwrmyt8fZDLX_7u5fOhjzab6C3Gnow10nr6iHeBX1lHywTLnJylkhAR_yaq4uPacca0w9IUxsH6pN10Euvf3tiN3919Fyee2Gd_JOx05AXYpHegM6nXQ6huvE8HccoDvPyj2L5wAhDapk1D34O8YVxjJfHatZ6Z_j3t9tImFIQqD-zjO2AF/s2849/IMG_20231208_163501.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2849" data-original-width="2037" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4WUL9m84ySkwrmyt8fZDLX_7u5fOhjzab6C3Gnow10nr6iHeBX1lHywTLnJylkhAR_yaq4uPacca0w9IUxsH6pN10Euvf3tiN3919Fyee2Gd_JOx05AXYpHegM6nXQ6huvE8HccoDvPyj2L5wAhDapk1D34O8YVxjJfHatZ6Z_j3t9tImFIQqD-zjO2AF/w286-h400/IMG_20231208_163501.jpg" width="286" /></a></div><i>"El sentido de la vida en un mundo de especialización era más especialización. Todo propósito conducía a la redundancia"</i><p></p><p><i>Dominic Green, </i>La Revolución religiosa</p><p><br /></p><p>No es evolución</p><p>sino salpullido </p><p>y borboteo constante</p><p>de una sopa que adoramos</p>Susana Corullónhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11183533567106048397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2196166203204425233.post-55576372524065903912023-11-13T13:52:00.004+01:002023-11-13T13:52:40.824+01:00Jardín<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtPxc35Gw9FvOcIaMVjJOrWokKnA0ku-zS3ieG_ZoPQWaenLd8j0CROkKG0pgiy4yAXwrKpsHBFJoOA4UjJ2zoOUPuU7vLIJw1V2PwUW934Ts4P0iA75f4uNO_ENCWLbmqsCtKVjKOIturM0XNUC8iF6sQFPUjfDBsZkYY_Juy3cvNv-j4wLMR-Z1DpunX/s2772/IMG_20231112_104354.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2093" data-original-width="2772" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtPxc35Gw9FvOcIaMVjJOrWokKnA0ku-zS3ieG_ZoPQWaenLd8j0CROkKG0pgiy4yAXwrKpsHBFJoOA4UjJ2zoOUPuU7vLIJw1V2PwUW934Ts4P0iA75f4uNO_ENCWLbmqsCtKVjKOIturM0XNUC8iF6sQFPUjfDBsZkYY_Juy3cvNv-j4wLMR-Z1DpunX/w400-h303/IMG_20231112_104354.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /> De la Naturaleza<p></p><p>tomamos</p><p>vivir para vivir</p>Susana Corullónhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11183533567106048397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2196166203204425233.post-69565914197133843972023-10-15T12:57:00.001+02:002023-10-15T12:57:53.982+02:00Poetas<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIgJPOKzmT-II3zDonocyEuQYBuq3TylbifTJ5tcKVeE52H0JyJzPx5jYCYKK9R5Vlx4SiOzaN3oGQRVwZMyCBRCLWtEY8l-KxlQqUDRMLYvhWl9K4yIfuQ5IcRB6Qgua1x5ZmkfcYl4asWFkbCZyq11pQP0mIdb7U9_3Lyj78qbGndelpjs8xypQA4ThU/s2782/pinos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1949" data-original-width="2782" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIgJPOKzmT-II3zDonocyEuQYBuq3TylbifTJ5tcKVeE52H0JyJzPx5jYCYKK9R5Vlx4SiOzaN3oGQRVwZMyCBRCLWtEY8l-KxlQqUDRMLYvhWl9K4yIfuQ5IcRB6Qgua1x5ZmkfcYl4asWFkbCZyq11pQP0mIdb7U9_3Lyj78qbGndelpjs8xypQA4ThU/w400-h280/pinos.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>El pino es<p></p><p>un brazo alzado,</p><p>un pincel </p><p>que habla solo,</p><p>con su cuerpo</p><p>palpita<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /> <p></p>Susana Corullónhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11183533567106048397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2196166203204425233.post-21629512083788144952023-10-01T13:59:00.000+02:002023-10-01T13:59:10.568+02:00Prêt à porter<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9T1NMG2v-iYFRbtJ7zoWSZNyRrgnoBouoTBmzB3NizGwGcAf0hOBcEzAqoU1C-a2X4nDdmEo8SNYykcUoUhk9M6MTN50VF8MIsFGURjAorO1EHyXmqRlIYYHy-sWjS6U1_4ya1eav2HyPGqRqzBBNk1BwEMAz9o6rNGv-S-lfbOAwUDHbzAisu4wk8gH8/s2988/IMG20231001134349.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2233" data-original-width="2988" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9T1NMG2v-iYFRbtJ7zoWSZNyRrgnoBouoTBmzB3NizGwGcAf0hOBcEzAqoU1C-a2X4nDdmEo8SNYykcUoUhk9M6MTN50VF8MIsFGURjAorO1EHyXmqRlIYYHy-sWjS6U1_4ya1eav2HyPGqRqzBBNk1BwEMAz9o6rNGv-S-lfbOAwUDHbzAisu4wk8gH8/w400-h299/IMG20231001134349.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Cabía en una <p></p><p>mano</p><p>y a la vez podía</p><p>cubrir el horizonte, </p><p>sólo había </p><p>que saber</p><p>llevarlo con elegancia</p>Susana Corullónhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11183533567106048397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2196166203204425233.post-90653867106339131132023-09-17T11:34:00.010+02:002023-11-16T14:09:00.181+01:00Sustrato<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9d1iuF1X8mViNABlSO9wyxGRrQlZcu_VBP4G_mXvKdEQdhGIgRTrFByIxae1taWgLKUZCwXm8vTL6s_FyiRD1jIjuJQUnUURD728Cge27Zz0_z_Z_v_YbfCmgdRY0wAHbrZ01vZbQoOXgN4Qn8Xmf4c1fY9MDV1ei4vRUdVek2nAQMxjqoVbflsCwmFTj/s3132/IMG_20230917_112735.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2124" data-original-width="3132" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9d1iuF1X8mViNABlSO9wyxGRrQlZcu_VBP4G_mXvKdEQdhGIgRTrFByIxae1taWgLKUZCwXm8vTL6s_FyiRD1jIjuJQUnUURD728Cge27Zz0_z_Z_v_YbfCmgdRY0wAHbrZ01vZbQoOXgN4Qn8Xmf4c1fY9MDV1ei4vRUdVek2nAQMxjqoVbflsCwmFTj/w400-h271/IMG_20230917_112735.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Por debajo<p></p><p>de las losas </p><p>del tiempo</p><p>había música</p>Susana Corullónhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11183533567106048397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2196166203204425233.post-24173482962973439562023-08-26T18:37:00.000+02:002023-08-26T18:37:04.108+02:00Serenidad<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA-NokPQRyTdFttKhPIf9heDU2W9l8y1QM-WcRajZbYDb_3CsRKF5fgAH0a_aXJVDE5Hlo4yuLf32nIatCPCn0zsU21sg9DzCCJOS8WkYhkhChUlCIIOPQi_e7vUa083Egijc5MVPP1jsz3Z27kfOoJT4xgCp1uAbpsfJkW33ytIgW3BPeJKq80jYIiDU0/s3589/IMG_20230826_181147.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2250" data-original-width="3589" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA-NokPQRyTdFttKhPIf9heDU2W9l8y1QM-WcRajZbYDb_3CsRKF5fgAH0a_aXJVDE5Hlo4yuLf32nIatCPCn0zsU21sg9DzCCJOS8WkYhkhChUlCIIOPQi_e7vUa083Egijc5MVPP1jsz3Z27kfOoJT4xgCp1uAbpsfJkW33ytIgW3BPeJKq80jYIiDU0/w400-h251/IMG_20230826_181147.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /> Era el cauce,<p></p><p>por fin el continente,</p><p>ese hueco</p><p>entre tu pecho </p><p>y tus brazos,</p><p>donde a la noche</p><p>mi tiempo descansaba</p>Susana Corullónhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11183533567106048397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2196166203204425233.post-67513399770162196942023-08-19T13:51:00.002+02:002023-11-08T13:29:07.364+01:00Diarios<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbDu3nP7DI_1CcLuRVaVNcuNfZLsnlU5rFkVxziUl8Y0vNZUUilz1Y95h209CO0vReqJistJ2uqnknYbUxBb5elr1Hvdaf-qEoV5guR88VoKGmKy6Ox9IB2vVeuIUuGHK1JUd1azplFMMyoNekIEWUNr_xG-zBJhpjM-S76WPjRxe-PFUgrp6mz_pFJRen/s2982/IMG_20230813_170631.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2982" data-original-width="2161" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbDu3nP7DI_1CcLuRVaVNcuNfZLsnlU5rFkVxziUl8Y0vNZUUilz1Y95h209CO0vReqJistJ2uqnknYbUxBb5elr1Hvdaf-qEoV5guR88VoKGmKy6Ox9IB2vVeuIUuGHK1JUd1azplFMMyoNekIEWUNr_xG-zBJhpjM-S76WPjRxe-PFUgrp6mz_pFJRen/w290-h400/IMG_20230813_170631.jpg" width="290" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>"¿Cómo sería lo escrito por alguien totalmente borracho..." Virginia Woolf, De viaje</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Virginia, tú hablas</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">de escribir borracha</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">y a mí se me ocurre</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">que ando por un </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">suelo helado.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Debe ser la misma</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">desconexión</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">con lo real,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">la misma inutilidad</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">para sobrevivir</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /> <p></p>Susana Corullónhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11183533567106048397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2196166203204425233.post-24821448729394423092023-08-15T19:41:00.000+02:002023-08-15T19:42:07.315+02:00De viaje <i>Perugia (15 de mayo) "Llegamos hoy desde Florencia. Vimos la Catedral, blanca y verde" Virginia Woolf, De viaje</i><div><i><br></i></div><div>Llegar y ver</div><div>lo que estaba</div><div>sin ti.</div><div>El muro imperturbable</div><div>unido al suelo</div><div>igual que la montaña.</div><div>Mientras que tú</div><div>presumes de alas</div><div>con la misma intrascendencia</div><div>que la mosca</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div></div>Susana Corullónhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11183533567106048397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2196166203204425233.post-72684476660951422332023-07-30T13:07:00.000+02:002023-07-30T13:07:41.982+02:00El pino puente<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd40tmCmn2BFPFG7z5DXhnnEm6Bi4XBG3ErabEmAmfBY2M80WeYhGBYV1t90GvANSkyjKkEwp12V2rElCzOkR_p5QmRsQbuPl08mPW0bA7DCPZq-XrdHgXg3_x4TI40ggDIhOu1XCk5YqFxCclsOi5L0PxdHVXvtawau5lCjTONsL1PJ3yCCQCQf2GTszJ/s3089/IMG_20230730_124957.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2087" data-original-width="3089" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd40tmCmn2BFPFG7z5DXhnnEm6Bi4XBG3ErabEmAmfBY2M80WeYhGBYV1t90GvANSkyjKkEwp12V2rElCzOkR_p5QmRsQbuPl08mPW0bA7DCPZq-XrdHgXg3_x4TI40ggDIhOu1XCk5YqFxCclsOi5L0PxdHVXvtawau5lCjTONsL1PJ3yCCQCQf2GTszJ/w400-h270/IMG_20230730_124957.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"> Era una montaña,<br />un hito,<br />que nos importó<br />hace mucho,<br />cuando los recuerdos <br />se graban<br />en piedra caliza<br />y se llevan como crestas<br />en la espalda</div><p></p>Susana Corullónhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11183533567106048397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2196166203204425233.post-9171684970207175512023-07-24T09:56:00.000+02:002023-07-24T09:56:56.256+02:00Niños<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiORZNPV6I5-JosRxApvamZbAUHENesm83LQL3bWaYM80GPV0jzbtvJWPqCRokQ9J39FUWEqLUXJj37mdrSadbI4yJYBWYitG4kyx80NcB6g2QHMMUQR_4ud-ZUAvxnv5BbfXdkK8dzjtPET2vdyd61W_03O9FB5WLwbAzt43DVGLjQjWGj4qaywPCI_uZE/s3313/IMG_20230723_115544.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2098" data-original-width="3313" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiORZNPV6I5-JosRxApvamZbAUHENesm83LQL3bWaYM80GPV0jzbtvJWPqCRokQ9J39FUWEqLUXJj37mdrSadbI4yJYBWYitG4kyx80NcB6g2QHMMUQR_4ud-ZUAvxnv5BbfXdkK8dzjtPET2vdyd61W_03O9FB5WLwbAzt43DVGLjQjWGj4qaywPCI_uZE/w400-h254/IMG_20230723_115544.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i>"Si pudieran pensar al levantarse que hoy va a ser como los demás días y que no van a hacer nada más que patear el balón, ¿disfrutarían?</i><p></p><p><i>Virginia Woolf, De Viaje</i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p>Cortarle el rabo</p><p>al gato</p><p>para que antes</p><p>termine</p><p>y empezar</p><p>otra vez.</p><p>Siniestro juego</p><p>de aislar lo diferente</p><p>para aprender</p><p>a estar</p>Susana Corullónhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11183533567106048397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2196166203204425233.post-51633482414031922882023-07-17T09:22:00.001+02:002023-08-15T19:34:31.463+02:00Entre dos luces<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEjNyiXryiDmXCbLbTMAR1N30op9Q9R7oKmWceaVkI2sCvx7ir6IRa-NT-QcFm73wodXCNOUjn9i3sHt_M4KnX9Mo71cIAg8yGcmdauskedo3_Ldo8i4ZHxhzJuXaCiYiCUF-YYQK2UKQHvqqQGBarTo_PuqWo35pt2QhRJTGDL1_ymzlWMI2zh_HCTO5U/s3088/IMG_20230716_122900.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2250" data-original-width="3088" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEjNyiXryiDmXCbLbTMAR1N30op9Q9R7oKmWceaVkI2sCvx7ir6IRa-NT-QcFm73wodXCNOUjn9i3sHt_M4KnX9Mo71cIAg8yGcmdauskedo3_Ldo8i4ZHxhzJuXaCiYiCUF-YYQK2UKQHvqqQGBarTo_PuqWo35pt2QhRJTGDL1_ymzlWMI2zh_HCTO5U/w400-h291/IMG_20230716_122900.jpg" width="400"></a></div><br><div style="text-align: left;"> Recorremos el bosque<br>por la tarde<br>cuando el calor lo guardan<br>las chicharras.<br>Queda el amor fugaz,<br>vigoroso,<br>que zumba en los oídos.<br>No estuve en el letargo<br>del día,<br>me perdí sus afanes</div><p></p>Susana Corullónhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11183533567106048397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2196166203204425233.post-45197011713448497732023-07-09T12:12:00.001+02:002023-07-09T12:12:37.600+02:00En otro verano<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD550wqbg_UqaJuPyxQlE72WQZOZ60XoHbtNgZf9ilW8y_lhkm1FxgJxbs58Ij4c7wJ6dFqwEbYyujkNd2cN41BsALErTMkK57z914ekyz1s96SrPeRmBfqmLDxz6q8Bd-B3fn824iWUvf9YbAlHMYcAi_7gO4LM4g4c_Avjr-sAMos7wPLwJ1xeEFxakA/s2972/IMG_20230709_115703.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2148" data-original-width="2972" height="289" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD550wqbg_UqaJuPyxQlE72WQZOZ60XoHbtNgZf9ilW8y_lhkm1FxgJxbs58Ij4c7wJ6dFqwEbYyujkNd2cN41BsALErTMkK57z914ekyz1s96SrPeRmBfqmLDxz6q8Bd-B3fn824iWUvf9YbAlHMYcAi_7gO4LM4g4c_Avjr-sAMos7wPLwJ1xeEFxakA/w400-h289/IMG_20230709_115703.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /> El sol de hoy,<p></p><p>muerto de rosa,</p><p>se ha llevado con él</p><p>los mismos muebles</p><p>de cuando jugábamos</p><p>juntas</p>Susana Corullónhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11183533567106048397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2196166203204425233.post-53625369883838170022023-07-02T13:58:00.003+02:002023-11-21T11:59:10.583+01:00Pausa<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghFEoTmwCQ-FAj9Nm9nv9oTabcGocqezzFHpKIr3ApYbCbz2Cl40QfavoHFVpWt35bEDbWrRew-GMjKO7uM3q3SvnwWxaahI6nnFy5PKjppne5NRbFRsNQ6IorvAw_Pjrcqb9GGPmuqzlvSc1AbmGvLYpiH8-c0vwtGoRPmLuax1YjRT3yl5q74px148hB/s3295/IMG_20230702_133113.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2170" data-original-width="3295" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghFEoTmwCQ-FAj9Nm9nv9oTabcGocqezzFHpKIr3ApYbCbz2Cl40QfavoHFVpWt35bEDbWrRew-GMjKO7uM3q3SvnwWxaahI6nnFy5PKjppne5NRbFRsNQ6IorvAw_Pjrcqb9GGPmuqzlvSc1AbmGvLYpiH8-c0vwtGoRPmLuax1YjRT3yl5q74px148hB/w400-h264/IMG_20230702_133113.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /> <i>"Como dijo Voltaire, nacemos para cultivar nuestro jardín. Ahora bien, cuando cambiamos de alojamiento todos los días, no tenemos jardín"</i><p></p><p><i>Vernon Lee, La viajera sentimental</i></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Nacemos para hacerle muy temprano</p><p>las trenzas a la niña</p><p>para ir al colegio.</p><p>Así se amuebla el día,</p><p>el musgo crece,</p><p>y se escapa el olor de las magnolias</p><p>cuando vais de la mano</p>Susana Corullónhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11183533567106048397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2196166203204425233.post-64472617578550496982023-06-26T10:40:00.003+02:002023-06-26T10:40:33.854+02:00Brillo<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigf5c6Uvkwu0qxI94HGh6AKEe2gAB0jgAnzzeJCwAiAfL2g6ZoK6SsbjfiXGVOY7BtHWJRSZqNUEgemwh_un1gPezmbqTQn1ORt8U-GtGZtfavU2JQ2U8GMLDbCx5I1C3KYBIdOj1JVEt7yVJ-yKUK12IuDiVw0jLFU4irCc_tzFjr0hLUAXoVDlWEts2r/s2759/IMG_20230624_130148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1994" data-original-width="2759" height="289" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigf5c6Uvkwu0qxI94HGh6AKEe2gAB0jgAnzzeJCwAiAfL2g6ZoK6SsbjfiXGVOY7BtHWJRSZqNUEgemwh_un1gPezmbqTQn1ORt8U-GtGZtfavU2JQ2U8GMLDbCx5I1C3KYBIdOj1JVEt7yVJ-yKUK12IuDiVw0jLFU4irCc_tzFjr0hLUAXoVDlWEts2r/w400-h289/IMG_20230624_130148.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /> La juventud,<p></p><p>como una ráfaga,</p><p>pasa a veces</p><p>por el centro de un rostro</p><p>y ya se queda</p>Susana Corullónhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11183533567106048397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2196166203204425233.post-57522986627686823312023-06-12T08:49:00.003+02:002023-06-12T08:49:49.337+02:00Acento<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD2fNGYTtwfnqRpBlEyGN2S2nGsahBIQFpJS7E6zv_lct_xXRwiGWN6DLD8UZ5qloYAElCmAgW5ugdRi2a3fGsdFkfpj0Czld6KOck_nSNix5jYq9BfCW6ZUi9FOraoQ3-re_RZ0ltknSK6lr3cd6zFngnFbk_D0nhE_yrJpPGwAISxmu2UtmI5vnCZw/s3224/higuera.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2214" data-original-width="3224" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD2fNGYTtwfnqRpBlEyGN2S2nGsahBIQFpJS7E6zv_lct_xXRwiGWN6DLD8UZ5qloYAElCmAgW5ugdRi2a3fGsdFkfpj0Czld6KOck_nSNix5jYq9BfCW6ZUi9FOraoQ3-re_RZ0ltknSK6lr3cd6zFngnFbk_D0nhE_yrJpPGwAISxmu2UtmI5vnCZw/w400-h275/higuera.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Por el ojo de buey<p></p><p>del final de una frase</p><p>se oye otro mar</p>Susana Corullónhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11183533567106048397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2196166203204425233.post-39046205841330222342023-05-28T13:21:00.001+02:002023-05-28T13:21:35.533+02:00Madurez<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPc0kaHuOurnrDrZiNvFyxSZvyq3-mZfbpGmtqyqTRdAYVtwa9AEz64_AoDbxzeV5Jwcbo1k1v4rQqmJjnDRYPWGBbssQ8GdbXW-Gg2DHeZlXSeg9oqgeS3SOR5hg9fF5nQJ508jofq9ljXzo1JHg-xrjvmlhW4tADJBOwVfNElgJbzSFUQGnOQ-8AQg/s2877/IMG_20230528_130552.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2877" data-original-width="2166" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPc0kaHuOurnrDrZiNvFyxSZvyq3-mZfbpGmtqyqTRdAYVtwa9AEz64_AoDbxzeV5Jwcbo1k1v4rQqmJjnDRYPWGBbssQ8GdbXW-Gg2DHeZlXSeg9oqgeS3SOR5hg9fF5nQJ508jofq9ljXzo1JHg-xrjvmlhW4tADJBOwVfNElgJbzSFUQGnOQ-8AQg/w301-h400/IMG_20230528_130552.jpg" width="301" /></a></div><br /> ¿Dónde van,<p></p><p>mujeres sentadas </p><p>el metro,</p><p>sin la lluvia?</p><p>La tuvieron,</p><p>seguro,</p><p>les brilla todavía</p>Susana Corullónhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11183533567106048397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2196166203204425233.post-80680109055827964672023-05-14T13:44:00.001+02:002023-05-14T14:18:57.776+02:00Administrativo<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHxu_PP5_NAlpkrYvJN--FJymt_9k1MSH6N5645JSWW-nVo-0OdIIHIOq7AeJaNB7aoMM_J-EryYRwL7eWbgMv-VeSREwarFUXbDqAzlKh6TlLPPwOGBY2cL2XwlvcBmXpBsWn5-Z1LUkTY5PX1y16764gyg1PtDeZZ_vTtvWlK-3Nb4mtCPDUTPnm3A/s2525/IMG_20230514_123419.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2525" data-original-width="2041" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHxu_PP5_NAlpkrYvJN--FJymt_9k1MSH6N5645JSWW-nVo-0OdIIHIOq7AeJaNB7aoMM_J-EryYRwL7eWbgMv-VeSREwarFUXbDqAzlKh6TlLPPwOGBY2cL2XwlvcBmXpBsWn5-Z1LUkTY5PX1y16764gyg1PtDeZZ_vTtvWlK-3Nb4mtCPDUTPnm3A/w324-h400/IMG_20230514_123419.jpg" width="324"></a></div>En los vastos territorios<p></p><p>del Gran Kan</p><p>la vida se desarrolla</p><p>con precisión de reloj</p><p>y eso calma la noche</p>Susana Corullónhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11183533567106048397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2196166203204425233.post-62316233789451944942023-05-03T09:58:00.004+02:002023-05-03T09:58:45.226+02:00Lenguaje<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM1Jzx4s6LAEtzZqRKFY-TMn-TyjQUz--K0Q995kMPwd4NYbMqMhr0tqoMmP9usaKgaRP74-euKinv8RCbXE03PLeRefnoel_m46qoZkvJ2rL3o8TG8Lyk3RzHTSbxL1DbaDH61mdQk4SutRmvqNAoBaCcQlUSAFIGORfZHnA8tdPtpl0GPCDC2cKtQQ/s3337/IMG_20230430_175621.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3337" data-original-width="2171" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM1Jzx4s6LAEtzZqRKFY-TMn-TyjQUz--K0Q995kMPwd4NYbMqMhr0tqoMmP9usaKgaRP74-euKinv8RCbXE03PLeRefnoel_m46qoZkvJ2rL3o8TG8Lyk3RzHTSbxL1DbaDH61mdQk4SutRmvqNAoBaCcQlUSAFIGORfZHnA8tdPtpl0GPCDC2cKtQQ/w260-h400/IMG_20230430_175621.jpg" width="260" /></a></div><br /> Desenvolverse en este<p></p><p>marco</p><p>con palabras pequeñas</p><p>para engañar a las otras</p>Susana Corullónhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11183533567106048397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2196166203204425233.post-27544372709160819112023-04-23T13:09:00.003+02:002023-11-08T13:58:40.408+01:00Compañía<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikomjdJM0uWYFysltPQ9XBDGVL115M2q4eYacjHlanv5KbPM9JWEDWjlCwluF79YcavsRTojFnwWDv21LyFUTkqqs56qF8O81YuzFJ-zsVU66e7YRA7F5-u1hqQAkRF3ituGyfDjgMlptOE-N2qaqzFMMDjAK-2hu61pBtUnzVnjbkK2tMhN4deYpRsg/s3208/IMG_20230423_120927.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2131" data-original-width="3208" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikomjdJM0uWYFysltPQ9XBDGVL115M2q4eYacjHlanv5KbPM9JWEDWjlCwluF79YcavsRTojFnwWDv21LyFUTkqqs56qF8O81YuzFJ-zsVU66e7YRA7F5-u1hqQAkRF3ituGyfDjgMlptOE-N2qaqzFMMDjAK-2hu61pBtUnzVnjbkK2tMhN4deYpRsg/w400-h266/IMG_20230423_120927.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i>"Acaso sólo te valdrá la esperanza de encontrar a alguien que también tenga miedo a las sombras como tú"</i><p></p><p>Moisés de las Heras, <i>El peso del dolor</i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p>En el bosque hay vida</p><p>y es amena</p><p>a salvo del vacío</p><p>que devasta</p>Susana Corullónhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11183533567106048397noreply@blogger.com0