Rita Guimaraes' favorite articles

Un regard baladé à travers le monde….. pendant des années… des milliers d’autres regards…. croisés…effleurés….caressés…frôlés…furtifs…volés….agressifs…. vindicatifs…amicaux..indifférents…curieux…effrayés…. des milliers de messages muets… des fractions d’instants d’une intensité sans pareille… éclairs magiques arrachés au néant….petits miracles au millième de seconde…traces sur pellicules de vies inconnues….passées….depuis longtemps… fragiles témoignages d’un autre temps…d’autres lieux……

Nothing justifies our destiny of shadows neither fire nor flame or ember we just burn sparks jumping out the fire crackle for instants and scintillate in the smoke that extinguishes them. (to read the original Portuguese version please click on the figure) by Armando TABORDA, in "SINFONIA EM DOR MENOR", Edição Escola de Mar, 2007 (1st e…

SILENCE One can hear a far off outcry closer silence increases from the immediate silence it doesn't matter if the sound is universal lament or God's roar upon imperfect landscape or Valkyries' gallop into the bohemian dawn the outcry doesn't justify the distance from where it comes perishable deteriorates in silence.…

Avenida da República, I The Nick Cave's obsessions are also mine love God and death persistently walk along day's memory at the music's pace invented in the 9th floor of a building at Avenida da República where I hear sirens every time like there were only wounded moribund and dead persons in the city taking a shortcut towa…

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 me. (to read the original Portuguese version please click on the picture) by Armando TABORDA, in "Sinfonia em Dor Menor", Edição Esco…

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 falls on my body and I wish the afternoon's infusion and the night's one as well. Abro os olhos para a infusão da manhã à procura do sol sinto-o sem o ver no calor húmido do corpo e depois vejo o ar a deslocar-se e…

(dedicated to the RTP1 program, saturday's aftenoon) the improvised stage under the shed and pimba* music the pregnant or not TV female speakers and pimba music the routine of failed TV male speakers and pimba music the craftwork and pimba music the dance of local fat girls and pimba music the ginjinha* and pimba music the sausages and pimba music the regional candies and pimba music the bread and pimba music the diuretic and aphrodisiac teas and pimba music one hour of t…

......................................................................................................................................... I depart later that day bearing signed copies, carrying unpublished poems, happy to have met such a remarkable man. Richard remains frail, as we all are, but this "frailty" has lasted him for many years, and I hope for more and more years to come. He is surrounded by loving friends and family, by Meg and her family, and by his books and music. As I am leaving…

BANQUET In Fatherland's anniversary the banquet is served tepid by ladies very well dressed frigid and plump everybody clamps under a Requiem's rhythm of plates glasses cutlery and candlesticks played to commend the souls of the national poets dead or alive. (to read the original Portuguese version of these texts please click on the above image) BELCH…

BLANK PIECE OF PAPER I look at you blank piece of paper I foresee a spreading blood tear being absorbed by the sheet pores blotting paper of a not yet coming pain idea ballerina pilgrim deciduous non-existent the pain whatever it is disappears through the pores of any blank piece of paper. (to read the original Portuguese version please click on t…

Oui le Destin ..., c'est toujours mon Refrain ... , quand la vie me Tient .., et ne me fait pas du Bien ..! oui c'est toujours mon REFRAIN ..!.... le destin... le destin..., et chacun a le Sien ..! roland le 02/01/2017

I draw gliding clouds in Madeira's sky at night they pile up spilled waters soon return to the sea at gallop on streams. Fresh waters run liquid rumours of mountain pulsate in my body's arteries. I release the words through my last wind of useless passion flag's life pleasure on smiling lips. I want the silence picks me up by surprise in the tumultuous words' running at gallop on s…

At the half-open mouth looking for an exit tongue caresses the palate tired from the teeth erosion. Na boca entreaberta à procura de saída a língua acaricia o palato cansada da erosão dos dentes. by Armando TABORDA, 2009 (post 1st edition, 2009; 2nd edition, 2016; 3rd edition, 2022)

I wait the mildness of a quite night for my pain fall asleep in the space's cradle I may yawn before an opera of stars the music is always the same celestial chorus dumb virtual the space immense fits light-years of distance and my pain strident real so small that fits inside me waits the mildness of a quite night to fall asleep in the space's cradle. Espero a brandura de uma noite c…

Reading Kim MOORE is like being surprised by a glass of fresh water when one is thirsty. Her book "IF WE COULD SPEAK LIKE WOLVES" was chosen as a Book of the Year 2012 in The Independent but I don't care of prizes and nominations. What is important is the writing and the correspondent associated images coming out of her precious creative power, which grows up around the small things of daily life "and the vacuum cleaner flew down the stairs like a song" or "as the dark folds itself over the…

I am alone only writing is my companion such a caress in the afternoon' silence and void loneliness despite raining outside the window and the open umbrellas in the street from the crowd walking away in the end not far from the sofa where I nod in sleep. Estou só apenas a escrita me acompanha tal carícia no silêncio da tarde e no vazio da solidão mesmo que para lá da janela chova e na rua se abram os guarda-chuvas da multidão que passa à distância enfim não…

I love the stones on the brook bed they are clean sins shining in the stream they are dived liquid stars sun-shinning water projects them right now against our look and there they are washed exactly in the same position making fun of us. Gosto das pedras no leito da ribeira são pecados limpos brilham na corrente…

I don't know if what I am is this sadness I feel all surroundings are jazz's music I hear at a Manhattan Avenue in Lisboa my city of light and shadows the hills leave in the soul this night's time so far away from everything so close to nothing the sax-tenor solo sounds sarcastic smile I swallow with my cigar' smoke. (to read the original Portuguese v…

DAY STARTS COLD AND CLOUDY THE YESTERDAY'S PAIN REMAINS IN THE SOUL EVEN SO ITS FEELING DOESN'T BELONG THERE /// O DIA COMEÇA FRIO E NUBLADO A DOR DE ONTEM CONTINUA NA ALMA MESMO NÃO SENDO LÁ QUE SE FAZ SENTIR by, Armando TABORDA, 2013 (article 1st edition, 2013; 2nd edition, 2016)

I watch the sea from here I am a swelled wave at the life' surf of other bodies in rubber-suits and hair of algae and salt still diving even if the wave forgets the sea that pushes her away. Avisto o mar daqui sou onda enrolada no surf da vida de outros corpos com fatos de borracha e cabelos de algas e sal…