Armando Taborda's articles

On my porch there is a resting chair without a body and in my house one night without shadows by corners or hidden in drawers and my soul planes around the light in more and more shorter and faster circles vortex of the body which will lay down in the chair at any moment Sur mon balcon il y a une chaise-longue sans corps et dans ma maison une nuit sans ombres par les coins ou cachés dans les tiroirs et mon âme plane autour de la lumière en cercles de plus en plus courts et rap…

A piece of paper fell from my hand as if it were an idea that stood in the balcony and flew taken by the wind to get lost light and useless Caiu-me um papel da mão como se fosse uma ideia que se pôs à varanda e voou levada pelo vento até se perder leve e inútil by Armando TABORDA, 2015 (post 1st edition, 2015; 2nd edition, 2022)

O Amigo e Poeta António José Cravo gravou este meu poema em youtu.be/JoFvGsysDRA (13.07.2022)

Velvet time no sun neither rain nor wind the night humidity weeps grass more green now against the grey day nearby under my glance my private landscape. Tempo de veludo sem sol nem chuva nem vento a humidade da noite chora relva agora mais verde contra o dia cinzento a meus pés sob o meu olhar minha paisagem privada. by Armando TABORDA, 2013 (post 1st edition, 2013; 2nd edition, 2018; 3rd edition, 2022)

I like the blue phase of the white nights while red alive blood cells are floating in the aqueous dream's gray against the darkest background of blindly clenched eyes. Gosto da fase azul das noites em branco quando no cinzento aquoso do sonho flutuam glóbulos de sangue vermelho vivo contra o fundo dos olhos cegamente cerrados de negro intenso. by Armando TABORDA, 2014 (post 1st edtion, 2015; 2nd edition, 2017; 3rd edition, 2019; 4th edition, 2022)

Wait we are always waiting for the right time the wrong person the surprising event the unexpected love the sudden death why not? right now in the car parking waiting for. Espera estamos sempre à espera do momento certo da pessoa errada do facto surpreendente do amor imprevisto da morte súbita por que não? agora mesmo no parque de estacionamrento à espera. by Armando TABORDA, 2016 (post 1st edition, 2016; 2nd edition, 2018; 3rd edition, 2022)

For a long time I would like to talk to you about a fabulous French artist, Agatha Ukeo, my friend, from my age group but as young as my grandchildren, because her creative mind is airy, colorful, and untimely. She invents characters that seem naïf but they aren't, that resemble comics but they aren't, that resemble fantastic realism and they are. They talk to us, meet the mythology of our dreams, fantasies, and fears. Fill us with pleasure and make us feel the irony and joy of living.…

Red flower flush of gardens impregnated of carbon dioxide from passing cars in the neighborhood at more than 50km/h do not realizing that the flower opened by day's heat smiles to bees butterflies and other insects that smash against their windshields /// Flor vermelha rubor de jardins impregnados de dióxido de carbono dos carros que passam nas cercanias a mais de 50km/h não se apercebendo que a flor aberta pelo calor do dia sorri às abelhas borboletas e outros insectos que se esmagam…

I want to remember the colours of my grey dream and the geography of valleys and mountains rivers and deserts seas and oceans but my subconscious only draws decadent cities yes those are very tangible crumbled in the blood that flows through the building facades till being the heaped and shapeless planet of my dream. Quero lembrar-me das cores do meu sonho cinzento e da geografia dos vales e montanhas rios e desertos mares e oceanos porém meu subconsciente só desenha cidades…

There are trees in our city they are dreams into the new avenues' sky that run away from the buildings where we hide our disillusions. A nossa cidade tem árvores são sonhos no céu das avenidas novas que fogem dos prédios onde escondemos as nossas desilusões. by Armando TABORDA, 2013 (post 1st edition, 2015; 2nd edition, 2018: 3rd edition, 2022)

Nothing is all that remains from everything we are given by life the day the night the joy the pain the writing the voice the colour the sound the love the friendship the mystery the dream the art the work the time the space the finite the infinite the eternal the glory the god the devil the dust. O nada é tudo o que fica de tudo o que a vida nos dá o dia a noite a alegria a dor a escrita a fala a cor o som o amor a amizade o mistério o sonho a arte o trabal…

Shadows hide behind the music and perfectly audible sounds are lost in the invisible forest but I lift my head and the powerful light stars twinkle the cosmic music I hear through night's darkness As sombras escondem-se atrás da música e os sons perfeitamente audíveis perdem-se na floresta invisível mas levanto a cabeça e as estrelas poderosas de luz cintilam a música cósmica que ouço na escuridão da noite by Armando TABORDA, 2016 (post 1st edition, 2016; 2nd editi…

Between sky and sea there is the wind I breathe the waves swing for and against the tide provides dimension strength and meaning to the surrounding view that annuls me I will navigate some day if my anchored feet turn to wing or row or sail for my body's travel. Entre céu e mar há o vento que respiro o balanço das ondas por e contra a maré dá dimensão força e significado à paisagem circunstante que me anula qualquer dia navegarei se os pés que me ancoram à terra forem asa…

I am a writer of little writing just not to bore you with repetitions. Days occur equal and also nights and tides we look to the full moon or the sunlight to the dark night or the tide's mark on the beach surf as it was for the first time. If the world does not get tired why do we get annoyed? Sou escritor de pouca escrita para não vos cansar com repetições. Os dias sucedem-se iguais e também as noites e as marés olhamos para a lua cheia ou a luz do sol a noite escu…

For Lionel Deyna Cartesian birds plane fat ideas from highs which control tiny dreams fears and utopias as soul's projects. Mammal birds attack in circle at twilight afterwards they dream night hanging in caves where sunlight doesn't come in. Unforeseen and poetic low-flying voices run away from the hunt's…

One can hear the waltz night within and us useless at all ghosts dance´s centre fatuous and futile ancestors nothing discovering that we might clearly see under the centuries' light that whirls forever the same waltz. (to read the original Portuguese version please click on the picture) by Armando TABORDA, In "SINFONIA EM DOR MENOR", Edição Escola de Mar, 2007…

I have two open accounts on social networks, Facebook and Ipernity, and I'm the administrator of a poetry website, "Livro Único". Today I woke up under the fear of uncertainty of what will happen to them after my death. I suddenly remembered that I always have the possibility to cancel them before I die. But when? What if a I have a sudden death? Another possibility is to bequeath them to someone who, even without updates, keep them online. Yet another is the social networks directors t…

if I see you and you see me if our destiny is to see each other when we meet on this precarious planet where we live why do we pretend not to see each other? why do not politicians come to us? why do we pay them exorbitant funds to make utopias a reality and everything remains the same? why do we finance corruption, incompetence and expenses of useless politics? at last why do not politicians come to us and only take the cloud by June while caressing their fat navels? until…