An international blog about literature and ecocriticism. Here I include my own lyrics, by Rui M. and also the work of others, from 4 to 24 each month 2018: new contributions sent to Periodical Art contests and Critics. Thanks. Arigatou

Nov 09


After one and a half hour, walking like seeking a fugitive killer, we were exhausted and decided to contradict the thirst that we were feeling, with fresh and clear water of a fountain... that we had never seen before. So far we were from our home! Just then we become conscious of the situation. But… and how could we return?! At the labyrinth of the forest the anxiety, didn't permitted us to prepare ourselves. In the meanwhile, our insatiable juvenile curiosity, of children, was drinking at the fountain of beauty of that place. It was hypnotic: made of granite tinged brown by time, the heat of the Summer and the ice of the Winter. The narrow foundation, when compared with the height, about two metres, and that natural terrace, covered with dry leaves, were saying, using their language: "That was an enchanted place, from many years ago… since the limits of memory." That water running there impressed me, because it was full of willingness that time did not subjugate. That fountain of life with its soft pace, made us recover the courage to proceed. João had fear, he wanted to return, but not alone… because of that he remained with us. Half an hour climbing the mountain, using the most interesting path that we could have chosen… in stairs of stone that sometimes appeared along the way surrounded by some lime-trees, among them some with an intense smell of honey, made us very tired. We had to return. Next to the harsh hours of sun, there was the beginning of the afternoon. We lied down, on the bed made of earth and looked to the sky, together with the top of the trees, that were moving together with the warm breeze, like a blessing, and involved by the climbing plant that also was involving the slopes that were surrounding us.
I got up and seated not far away, playing with a stick, making drawings on the earth dust and noticing some of my confidants, that were also there. And I prayed… with all my strength… I closed my eyes and embraced my two knees, with my left arm, on my legs. I put together my feet, burning with blisters and some wounds made during the long walk, already covered with white dust. With the right hand I was still drawing, using the stick, figures without face. It was in this position that I prayed… in silence, on the balance of the wind. Until he, with an abrupt sign, observed all around me, as if it were already enough and I could already open my eyes.
Pedro couldn't continue looking the sky and was delirious... or better saying, his head was spinning: — Water… Water… — he whispered. He seated and was attentive to me, when I got benumbed and immobilized, in amazement after discovering an ant coming in a small path, right in front of me and when she was next to me stopped, stared at me during a short period of time and continued her journey. She was carrying a piece of tissue of Maria's dress. I was overwhelmed and got up, looked to the forest, in the direction of the worker of God and with part of my body numbed, I saw who my eyes were seeking without stopping, even with no hope, but just with conviction.
— Maria! Maria! — Pedro and João rose up and came to me.
— How can we take her from there? — Asked Pedro and immediately after João said: — She's dead! Ho my God…
Then I confessed: — I love her. God would not permit such a thing! — She was laying down as a star on the firmament, that seemed to me to be like a natural mattress of blackberry bushes… but, she had some colour on her face… it looked like sleeping. Without fear, as someone who recovers life, we jumped to hug her and we transported her, still unconscious, to the village. A two hours walk, through the forest and previous enchantment but now we sensed time differently, shorter than that of the clock pointers, that we didn't have, but also shorter than the clock sun, marked with trunks of the forest, with shadows on the floor and little after at the corn fields, that happy, due to the novelty, waved at us as a welcoming sign. Pedro even tied his special thread to a three centimetres beetle that started to fly, although caught by a yarn. She was a common inhabitant of the oaks. There we were, laughing about everything!
When the end of the day arrived, happiness was everywhere. Maria recovered… and the party of that night brought there people of the nearest places and even from others more distant. No one reprehended us. Like children we were able to read the map of Maria's innocence and we found her… On that night, when boys of a neighbour village, as a revenge because a girl didn't wanted to dance with them, broke with stoning all lights, the darkness and only she, saw my first kiss with Maria: sweeter than any sweet. We were not together because we had fear to loose ourselves and today, I feel that, because of that day, we live together: the two of us… with our children.
I also told them this story.
The end
published by talesforlove às 14:48

Out 09

I have two things to say about this tale:


1st As in the tale, in certain places of Portugal, people are very respectful about small animals and insects (not everyone but the majority);


2nd I believe that, regardless of the epoch, children always have a characteristic: curiosity, they didn't care if it is technology or not.


Well, this is alll I have to tell you , at the moment! Enjoy!

published by talesforlove às 14:56

Jul 09


Many years ago, there was a land where ants were sacred: the workers of God. Like men, they used to go through the valleys, during Summer and Spring. They looked for seeds, dead insects, dry grass, bread and everything else they could store in their granary. The only difference between man and them was that he had to sow the wheat while they didn't.
One could see them walk long earth paths, disperse like snakes along the grounds, between harvests, along the roads even like small dots on the sand on the riverside, whose waters, sparkling and tepid, in high summer, sometimes took with them some of the most careless… That was a situation not very common, less frequent than the flying of the eagle, fishing in the river, but more frequent than the succession of the seasons.
I remember as if it was today. I was a child and when I was playing with other children in the middle of the corn straw, that evening was beginning to be "tinged" by the pearl shading of the sun light. The smell of corncob and of some greener leaves, was so intense that I never forgot it. I got tired with the play and got a seat on the floor with my legs extended and naked, because I was wearing breeches, and there were they: the workers of God. Some of them were going around my legs, others mistaken me for their lunch and bit me with all their strength, but to me that sweet nipping was like a gentle kiss of mother nature. Near us, on the wall, there was a mill made of canes and leaves. Its helices were fragile and yellow, almost white, and were gyrating happily, with the same joy that the wind and the sun were bringing. Its presence was so subtle, that we almost did not notice it. Nevertheless, with time, we learned to appreciate that wind mill.
When I noticed, I was following the track of the ants... Two other children were with me. We wanted to discover the ant-hole and, as we were aware of the long distance to get there, we didn't gave up and started going down the hill, through an old path they were using. We went down… and down, without noticing that the day was coming to its end. The wind was bringing the intense smell of roses, the flowers of heathers, and the observation of each of those beings, in a single line, carrying seeds and straws, was confusing our senses and, as a consequence, we forgot everything else. The only thing we would say, with enthusiasm, was: — How funny! Look what that is carrying!
Those restless workers took us far away and finally, we arrived to a small valley, placed between two slopes, very steep and of a dark green, only shaded by the colours of heathers and by the bright yellow of some other wild bushes.     
We continued to follow them, right in the direction of a big round entrance made in the bushes. These blackberry bushes looked like they had been cut by scissors. The earth was also revolved, coloured of yellow ochre, as a sign of being recently disturbed. There were also some footprints going on that direction… we stood still and looked at each other… Was the ant-hole there and would it be possible that a giant ant had been there? We didn't have much more time to think out all this, we heard a wild boar's shriek coming from inside the hole and each of us run out in a different direction!
I followed the path, together with João, right before me. Filipe, completely mad, jumped over to the nearest pine tree and climbed to the top! The wild boar was wandering around and darkness was taking over everything. We were barefoot but, despite that, we reached the top of the mountain in no time. From there we could only distinguish an enormous figure, the wild boar, he seemed furious, and was looking all around, he ran a little bit and then stopped again, and repeated this several times until he stared at the top of the pine tree and decided to stay  there a little more.
published by talesforlove às 14:37

Fevereiro 2018






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