With a Poem in the Pocket
Two poets of many, are connected to the beautiful city of Madrid. From the times before five star Madrid hotels and fashion shows, from a time that makes these times now, possible. For what is music or art or avant garde fashion or dance or painting or culinary delights, if there is no poetry standing behind it all, and holding it all up? Antonio Machado was born in 1883 in the town of Seville. After some childhood years spent there he moved to Madrid where he lived for quite a while. And to ease financial restrictions, became an actor for a short time. Now days, actors must find other ways to ease financial strife. During this time he came into contact with writers, poets mostly, and after working with them and their publishers and being in their world, decided to move to Paris. ‘Soledades’ was his first book of poetry published in 1903, and he continued to edit the book for a time. While in Paris he studied philosophy and French literature, and wrote poems of social realism. He became a member of the ‘Generation of 1927′. This was a collection of writers promoting the avant garde in literature, the performance artists of today have much to thank and respect this man for. He died just three days before his mother, on February 22, 1939, and in his pocket was a poem. One only wishes to die with a poem in the pocket.
Garcia Lorca remained in Madrid, and joined with Pablo Neruda the Residence de Estudiantes. In the college town these men held public readings, performances, and this led to Lorca becoming famous before he had had a bit of words published. During this time, 1920′s, the artists as well as all the people, were hiding from armed forces. Much like Michelangelo being held prisoner and painting the walls of his cell with angels, poets will not be stopped by military invasions. Pride, violent death, love and passion are themes during this time, as well they should be. As well they should be now. While in hiding, he was being followed. This poet, writing of love and mythology and beauty, was dragged from his flat. The Nationalists shot him, without a trial, in 1936. The Spanish Civil war led by the right wing, had him dig his grave, in which he was buried once they carried out their intentions. He was an adversary to their purpose, so the men with guns shot the man with a pen and a piece of paper executed for his thoughts. Perhaps he had a poem in his pocket as well.
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