Search among Armando Taborda's articles

A grey aura around the eyes crowns my insomnia I get out from bed. Alone. I hesitate upon the matter I am and quest my remains to explain my nights astonishment. So far I'm looking for the first smile on the next day and all other smiles in

I open the eyes to the morning's infusion in search of sun although not seen I feel it in the moist heat of the body and then I watch the air movement in small balls of light faster and faster ever up the sky is redefined and suddenly the torrid sun

Í saw a light at the end of the tunnel but the darkness around me was so deep that my dream crumbled into nightmare Vi uma luz ao fundo do túnel mas a escuridão à minha volta era tanta que o meu sonho se desfez em pesadelo by Armando TABORDA, 2014

One of these days I will write my memories and from the remains I will build a conduit to supply me with water's dreams even if there are many splits and they don't arrive to the final consumer. Qualquer dia vou escrever minhas memórias e das

God has created the Universe the Universe has created Man Man has created the Machine the Universe expands itself infinitely and ignores God Man and the Machine Deus criou o Universo o Universo criou o Homem o Homem criou a Máquina o Universo

THE KNOT COMES UNDONE EARLY MORNING WHEN THE LIGHT FILTERED THROUGH THE BLINDS TREPASSES THE BODIES' INTIMACY O NÓ DESFAZ-SE DE MADRUGADA QUANDO A LUZ QUE ENTRA FILTRADA PELA PERSIANA DEVASSA A INTIMIDADE DOS CORPOS by Armando TABORDA, 2014 (post

when loneliness is great the light floods into the silence where life's dream is renewed quando a solidão é grande a luz inunda o silêncio onde o sonho da vida se refaz by Armando TABORDA, 2015 (post 1st edition, 2015; 2nd edition, 2018; 3rd

No sleep's particle orbits in my sky. The stars twinkle so far and intensely that the Universe appears to be expanding but remains trapped in my brain. All desired light will get away through my eyeballs' darkness and the vaporous thrill of the

Someone tells me I can be happy if I don't look for happiness in the corners of the city where I live in the sea flooding into my eyes in the constellation's twinkling of my night in the new moon darkness of dream and if I let time go by indifferently

To feel the hot and tough sun irradiating from the shop windows glasses and the coachworks of parked cars on the street lanes or sidewalks of the avenue where I live in Benfica close to the shadows of the Monsanto Park which I guess is at the other side

Today I am perplexed from images my eyes catch all obscured mass of surrounding light at the ignited core of my mind where I don't know why all my friends other beings and environments reveal no usefulness due to the indifference I feel on

Cause I have a bird inside me I'm free cause I have a skin out of me I'm an hostage. Por ter um pássaro dentro de mim sou livre por ter uma pele fora de mim sou refém. by Armando TABORDA, in "MANUAL DO DESPERDÍCIO", Ceres Editora, 1994 (post 1st

Invisible light can be seen on trees clothes bodies and other shapes like this on the wave oscillation that spreads it. Invisível luz vê-se nas árvores roupas corpos e outras formas assim na oscilação da onda

Nightfall rumble imprecation to the sun solidity in the water's penury remains of useless prayer in the soul's disquiet dodecaphonic symphony at the homecoming. Rumor da tarde imprecação à solidez do sol na penúria de

ALL IS FORGOTTEN NOTHING NEW IS HAPPENING UNTIL THE LIGHT GOES OFF FROM MEMORY /// TUDO SE ESQUECE NADA DE NOVO ACONTECE ATÉ QUE A LUZ DA MEMÓRIA SE APAGA by Armando TABORDA, 2013 (post 1st edition, 2013; 2nd edition, 2020; 3rd edition, 2023)

IT'S VERY HARD TO BE OLD OR ALMOST OLD AND GO INTO THE YOUTH PATH THROUGH PERSISTENTLY INCOMPLETE FLASH BACKS WHERE IT APPEARS A NAME OR A NICK NAME BUT NOT THE PERSON A BLONDE HAIR OR A SHAPELY LEG BUT NOT THE BODY SHUFLED IMAGES BY THE FIRST

The fern waves sea of roots captured by land of free surf its vegetal condition claims the wind's shake for the light whisper through my eyes before loss into the sky /// O feto ondula mar de raízes capturadas na terra de livre rebentação sua

A compact gray light fills me through my semi-closed eyes where the landscape wet by rain disappears and Spring vapours dilute its outline and far away an intense smell of earth perfumes my body as if it was a cradle and I still hear the

desires and dreams don't age in the body so often the thought claims them even when we don't enjoy their pleasures os desejos e os sonhos não envelhecem no corpo assim frequentemente o pensamento reclama-os mesmo quando não usufruímos seus prazeres by

# the Lords of Cabral and Magellan of my youth didn't need caravels and galleons to sail but just some wind to fill their life and misery # then there were the dictatorship's prisons that frighten the sailors but there were just a few for so much hunger #

This book, "All Tears Are In The Gorge Of The Sea", isn´t easy to read. It requires concentration, cultural imagination to unveil the poetic meaning of the metaphorical text/context, and time to reread and enjoy. However, it's one of the most fascinating,

Past the fountain out of repair And the boarded diner A small studio You'd never told anyone about Where old clothes have remained Right where you've dumped them Side by side With random notes and sketches When someone close to you Has a different

Bloody slow fugitive hiding stars under its light unrealistic sun speedy cloud absent in a few time sadness you bring and don't take away daybreak breeze what strange things you say almost forgotten but always flying swallows in my grass

The sea is an ocean's arm and the ocean an earth's body spacecraft without astrolabe or sextant nor science of sails winds and currents adrift in the infinity's tides looking for what seaportor yacht club for an intermediate stop in the space where

Yesterday in the coronary-graphic' screen I saw ways of my inner body fat calcifications and other squeezes trying to prevent the catheter progression looking for my soul that after all I didn't see. Ontem no monitor da

How many am I in this prolonged summer which die sweat over the deodorant from a while ago where am I in the mirror's image? Generations of men and women pass by me as insects flying against the city's walls. Who am I low flying over the bed's

In the surrounding landscape there is an unusual mysticism either by nature or man as if it was the eternity embrace at the life threshold /// Na paisagem que me cerca há um inusitado misticismo da natureza e do homem como se fosse o

The beginning is brilliant, a remake of "2001: The Space Odyssey", by Stanley KUBRICK, promises a film speaking of the future of a better humanity. But then it touches on many things at the same time, inequality between sexes, consumerism, overspending,

I don't know if a bird dies in the air or on the ground his last flight ends with open eyes and closed beak the secrets of all winds he crossed become mute chirping no longer vibrates his bones lightness feathers don't warm his body anymore each bird

The first look full of light dazzles and blinds the confused night's dream O primeiro olhar pleno de luz ofusca e cega o confuso sonho da noite by Armando TABORDA, 2018 (photo taken from Internet - published under the fair use doctrine for

the older the more bronchitis the more bronchitis the less soul with a quiet place in the body quanto mais idade mais bronquite quanto mais bronquite menos alma com um lugar sossegado no corpo by Armando TABORDA, 2023

Breathing is light and serene morning grows up warm and bright in the skin the body doesn't desire to get dressed. A respiração é leve e serena a manhã cresce cálida e rútila na pele o corpo não deseja

Fernando Grade, Portuguese citizen, writer and poet, plastic artist, critic of art. He uses two heteronyms to divulge his literary work: Abel Sabaoth (born in Porto, 1936, teacher of Latin) and Aal Aarão (born in Lisboa, 1950, economist). Together with

I feel myself a tired steed I don't give up breathless at the gallop through the blue track that whips my face as fast as the reflexes of the far away mountain blind me I don't know if the decomposed light into its own spectrum charms me I dream so

because the bastard you are begins to curse soon in morning the opal light that comes in through the window and the rain falling in circles on the avenue's asphalt it doesn't mean that there is no reason to smile to life just now that you are editing this

I can say that my garden is the best in the world cause it's there I sit down to look at the sky and the immense sky remains indifferently blue against the conviction that my three hundred fifty square meters are the most beautiful in the chaos that

TV Spot by QUERCUS, National Association for Nature Conservation - Associação Nacional da Conservação da Natureza http://www.quercus.pt (post 1st edition, 2009; 2nd edition, 2023)

Narrative of sound rocks me at the dream's terrace I think more and more slow this time of light burning on the mountain and invigorating the blood of seeming dead reptiles but they are vibrant of sunbathing scales shine on the terrace as dreams

"the supreme good of writing is the silence" (a taborda) Another book by one of the best Portuguese poetic voices. The author makes her incessant writing a redundant and vital act, in the systematic search for silence that pacifies and puts her to

I believe in life interpreted from one thing to another more than simple vibration necessity dissatisfied desire halo not from saint charisma but sound light colour mystery. I believe and currently I want the great ball of needs with an eccentric smile

days standstill. in the divided asymmetry that determines the lonely cry of the mountain. there is nothing to say beneath the flowers other than the disraction of the stones that turn into fingers. so I just leave a version with broken wings. bread on the

I went to the swimming-pool it was raining I came back it still rains so the hotter season of the year is also the more benign and me as a go-between within two showers. I fill myself of the metallic-grey landscape agony where amphibious birds

Here is a poetry book with a modern and original structure, as if it were a two-dimensional graph of intervals, autobiographical, where the author, with mastery and great beauty, X-rays the remarkable moments of her life. The abcissa of the graph

"2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY", STANLEY KUBRICK I build an obelisk from top to bottom without foundation I annul the gravity force with an equal and opposite creative energy. I mould the shape without posthumous sense nor cause and effect meaning

LOOK AT ME I will lose everything the day and the night the sea and the sky the joy and the pain the temple and the house the water and the wine and The Bread? the metaphor and the text the thought and the dream the sin and the virtue GOD and DEVIL the

Suddenly the anguish of not having you dominates me my eyes look at the illuminated mountain's outline far away till the limit of liquid and mineral reflections where goes my thought towards dream while I smoke my pipe that reminds me many rooms where we

I have long known Manuel De DIEGO's simple, profound, and synthetic poetry. A poet without a shadow of models, he follows his path with total freedom of expression, sometimes the haiku, the epigram and the sonnet seem conditioning him, but they are mere

Nowadays what takes us by surprise is that all happen without our choice. We live crammed with abstract entities not controlled by stockholders. It is said that capital is the supreme good and can't be exposed to bankruptcy. At the cost of social

I have time to disintegrate in pieces of myself thought's implosion or from the life? Whatever the wind scattered cells unity remains destroyed thought gets lost and body as well waiting for the next incomig soul. Tenho

LAND TIRED OF RAIN It's not true my brain´s dullness and I growing old. Land tired of rain sun crop pasture forest fire Man regenerates wild flower heather thicket wind's blow flight of bird forest' sprout.