Piedad Bonnett

Piedad Bonnett Poems

Piedad Bonnett Biography

Piedad Bonnett Vélez (Amalfi (Antioquia), 1951) is a Colombian poet, playwright and novelist. She obtained a degree in Philosophy and Literature from the Universidad de los Andes University of Los Andes (Colombia) where she has been professor at the Faculty of Arts and Humanities since 1981. She has published eight poetry books, many of which have been translated to Italian, English, French, Swiss, Greek and Portuguese, four novels, and five theater plays. Her short stories and essays have been published in both Colombian and international magazines and newspapers, and she has represented Colombia in numerous poetry festivals in Granada (Spain), Cordoba (Spain), Rosaria (Argentina) and Medellin (Colombia), and literary festivals, including the Berlin International Literature Festival and Hay Festival in Segovia. Her poetry, screenwriting and prose are described as having a profound link to her life experiences and vision as a middle class woman in a country torn by violence, inequality and conflict. Childhood, family life, and an enchantment and disenchantment with different kinds of love are present across her work, including filial, romantic and friendship, which she describes as one of the most beautiful and pure kinds. In 2013, she published her book “Lo que no tiene nombre,” a personal testimony about the struggles of her son with mental illness. The book received excellent reviews and she received recognition from Semana, Fundación Liderazgo y Democracia y Telefónica for her leadership in generating consciousness about mental health issues through literature.)

The Best Poem Of Piedad Bonnett

Recycling

When in a fit of anger my father killed the cat,
Bartolo my cat
because it put its tail in his broth
and because it was already old and didn't catch mice as it should
and because it was expensive to maintain,
when my drunk father killed it with his hands
there was a noisy confusion at home.
All came, all:
my sister said: save me the eyes
for a pair of earrings, and Martino,
our blind neighbor, bagged the guts
- you can make violin strings with them -
and mother, who cried at first, cried with me;
she wanted the fur
to put as a collar on her jacket,
and the whiskers
were bagged by my brother Eladio the mechanic,
and the fur on its paws became
nice pincushions
for the fat witch that lives at the back of the courtyard
and is a dressmaker.
What was left they boiled with salt and onions.
They gave it to Luis, who sleeps on our street,
because with it you can also make cat broth for the hungry.
I asked for the bones.
I bite them one after another in front of my sister's mirror
because my grandmother said
that if you bite the right one you become invisible.

Translation: 2005, Nicolás Suescún

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