Dan Doctors In Phoenix

Tolima University

CARLOS ARTURO GAMBOA BOBADILLA

liteatura degree in English and, Especialisata in greenhouse gases and a masters student in UTP-UT
Literature Professor at the area of \u200b\u200bliterature and
lengujae
Poet and storyteller

Books:

The slit The Times (poems)
imperfect Dream (Stories)


LITERARY AWARDS


First post. Language Day Competition. Form poetry. Universidad del Tolima. Ibague. 1997.

First post. Language Day Competition. Story mode. Universidad del Tolima. Ibague. 1997.

First post. Departmental competition for talent under 30 years. Joint fund to promote the culture of Tolima. Ibagué.1998.

First post. IDEAD story contest 15 years. Ibague. 1998. Contest Finalist

literature Interuniversity ESAP. Story mode. Ibague. 2004. First post

ESAP literature intercollegiate competition. Test mode. Ibague. 2004.

SAMPLE POEM POETRY OF THE STREETS

horizontal perpetuates

where men multiform flower
years
Footprint

rhetoric and blind observer after

where millions of feet flesh

Roen

streets as eternal oasis,

are the only place they impartial

in
hawks

carbon dioxide
graze beside the pigeons



POEM WITH SOLEDAD



come from the south

waves of heat that suffocates my heart
Others
force, delicious allergy

bodies undergoing the ancient rite of desire.

The little one that sleeps under my abdomen

suddenly shrinks and cast iron moments

It has invaded everything. Willing

a battle of bodies, endless struggle

Where the tasting up the win.

Each bore a trench

And mutate weapons harmless from moisture.

A curve here, an avenue unexplored

Anywhere there is mysterious magnet

And the hands do not fatigue on their journeys.

only smoke floating in a square millimeter

Announces a short truce

But the bodies are willing to fatigue

mixture again to make moan the night with their screams.


There will be a tomorrow
Everything must be consumed while the nocturnal

And your inmost desire permits.

- CHECKMATE

I was banished by the King in an act of injustice total erotic. From Torres poisoned arrows and threw me as he left the castle bound and sharp swords of the Bishops lacerating my back, I tried looking back. Exile on foot because my horses were thrown into the pit of crocodiles. Until one day laborers swore to be faithful lackeys now reproached my face. Only she will be thinking of me, remembering my nocturnal visits to fill your body of Oriental, remember my hands to fight her bra, my sticky fingers penetrating its corners, my tongue wetting her hot navel. She has immunity home and yet allowed me listening to his legs, navigate their forest foraging underground, walk her back and stop just where the terrain is rough to lay there my deadly liquid. She did not notice my escape, now must keep his belly explored my lips so that the King plays his game. Banished but I took my victory. With excessive loved this lady and I built a monument in his body to lust.
(From the book "Dream imperfect" Unilibros-UT. 2009)

is best run after sitting waiting crazy dream ...