Arxiu de la categoria: XVI Premi Carme Ribes

XVI Premi literari Carme Ribes

 BASES XVI PREMI LITERARI_SECUNDÀRIA

BASES XVI PREMI  LITERARI_PRIMÀRIA

VEREDICTE PREMI  2015-16

TREBALLS   PREMIATS

CATEGORIA PRIMÀRIA

Iban, Berta Ibars. 5è Pràctiques

Sonic, Àlan Minguell. 6è Sant Josep de Calassanç

CATEGORIA 1r I  2n ESO

Sara Serés Béjar (falta text)

Naïm Ghersedine (falta text)

CATEGORIA 3r I 4t ESO

Ens diuen pipis, Ester Gil Navarro

Carta d’una presa, Paula Lafuerza

CATEGORIA BATXILLERAT, CF I CAGS

Anarquía animal – Gerard Castro Castillo

Ariadna Narcís (falta text)

Alba Ganau (falta text)

CATEGORIA LLENGUA ANGLESA ESO

Me an animal, Sara Serés Béjar

Dear Homeowner, Karla Pérez Miyar

Kangaroo, Sergi Castro Castillo

CATEGORIA LLENGUA ANGLESA BATXILLERAT

Anwar’s past, Núria Babot i Pereña

Natural vengeance – Gerard Castro Castillo

XV Premi literari Carme Ribes

2015-04-18 02.18.26

BASES DEL CONCURS PER A CENTRES DE PRIMÀRIA


BASES DEL CONCURS PER A SECUNDÀRIA


VEREDICTE PREMI 2014-15


TREBALLS PREMIATS

CATEGORIA PRIMÀRIA

Helena Pubill Quintillà. Pràctiques II. 5è

Georgina Vera Ocaña. Pràctiques II 5è

Ares Carrera Olomí. Pràctiques II 5è

CATEGORIA SECUNDÀRIA

1r i 2n d’ESO

2n ESO_Ester Gil_El valor de l’amistat

1r ESO_Sergi Castro_El valor de l’amistat

3r i 4t d’ESO

4t ESO_Alba Ganau_ Amics per sempre

3r ESO_Tamara Violín_ Fred

Batxillerat, Cicles i CAGS

1r batx_Gerard Castro_ El valor de l’amistat

1r batx_Oriol Jové_El valor de l’amistat explicat per un revolucionari.

Treballs en llengua estrangera

2n batx_Anna Ariño_ Friendship’s value

XIV premi literari Carme Ribes, 2013-2014

Bases XIV Premi literari Carme Ribes Primària

Bases XIV Premi literari Carme Ribes Secundària

Veredicte premi 2013_14

CATEGORIA PRIMÀRIA

Sara Serés Béjar. Pràctiques II 6è

Gabriel Sillero Mañas. St Josep de Calassanç 6è

Fàtima Mekesser. St Josep de Calassanç 6è

CATEGORIA SECUNDÀRIA

1r i 2n ESO

Pau Gómez Mateo_2n ESO

Esther Gil Navarro_1r ESO.

3r i 4t ESO

Oriol Jové Font_ 4t ESO

Núria Babot Pereña_3r ESO

Alba Ganau Penella_3r ESO 

Batxillerat, CF i CAGS

Núria Gallart Guivernau_1r batx

CATEGORIA EN LLENGUA ANGLESA

Jon i Maria Mañanet_1r ESO

Esther Gil Navarro_1rESO

Anna Ariño Serra_1r batx

 

 

 

It is the dry season. The sun beats down the pools dry up. Everyone needs water. Bouki the Hyena knows where the well is but the village dogs know it too and every time he approaches they set up barking fit to wake the dead. Bouki slinks away.
He wanders the desert and by great good fortune finds an old well, deep and full. No one is about. He cannot understand why. He leans down and peers into the well. Now he understands. There is another hyena down there; a big ugly one. Bouki shows his teeth. The other hyena shows his. Bouki snaps them together. So does the other hyena. Bouki jumps forward to bite his rival. Splash! He has fallen into the water. He has been fighting his own reflection. He is trapped down the well. It is cold down there and gets colder as the hours go by. Bouki howls for help.
Suddenly a head appears at the mouth of the well. The head has whiskers.
Good morning says Sonko the hare. “I am so glad you are having a wash”.
“Help me out” shout Bouki.
Sonko does not seem to hear. He hums to himself. Clean Hyena what a laugh. Stay down there; enjoy your bath.
“If you let me out”, pleads Bouki. “We can share this well”.
Sonko thinks deeply. He has a young wife. Trips to the well take hours and make her tired. She has young children to feed. But does the Hyena ever keep his word?
“We can take an oath” says Bouki, “in front of the notary”.
“Done”, says Sonko.
So they swear an agreement in front of the wise old green pigeon who lectures them.
“Clean out the well”, it says, “and build a wall round it. That will help to prevent Guinea Worm form spreading. It will stop children and others falling in”
Here pigeon looks hard at Bouki.
For six days Sonko and Bouki work like slaves. They clean out the old well, make a cover, build the wall, make a bucket; attach it to a rope, throw down lime into the well to disinfect it and plant a vegetable garden nearby. The pigeon like many other old creatures loves watching others work and giving them advice.
“Be careful” it warms them “Keep the bucket clean; don’t get the rope dirty before you attach it, fence round the well so that the cattle cannot get near it” but it never offers to help. After six days hard work, Sonko sets of happily to bring this new young wife and his large family. Bouki has agreed to do the last task on his own, to build the fence.
Tragic ending:
When Sonko returns, the fence is all complete, but it is high and sharp and there is a gate, a locked gate. Bouki has the key, and Sonko can’t open it.
Sonko looks at Bouki, with a repugnance face, and he says “you’re a betrayer” and Bouki answers saying “Yes, but you have to think that there is not enough water for your family and mine, goodbye.” Sonko sits on the floor and says “I’m not going to move from here”. Bouki waits for a minute and finally, says “OK, you can die or live, chose” Sonko is still sitting on the floor, and Bouki has not answered. Bouki is angry, he shows his teeth and he jumps forward to kill Sonko.
With this action we can learn that in life the strong wins the slack.
Happy ending:
When Sonko returns the fence is all complete, and Bouki is there in the side. ”I was waiting for you, come on!” says Bouki, Sonko with his family at the back, says “One moment, we are exhausted” Bouki laughing, says “I want to introduce you to my family”. Now they live together in a house they made.
Here the key message is that in group we can do big things.

In the real life the histories, can be with different finals,
sometimes they finish well
or really bad,
the stories just are small fantasies
that they pass for our head

EL NUEVO CUADRO DEL EMPERADOR, Núria Gallart

Érase un hombre que tenía mucho, mucho dinero. Tanto que se solía decir: imagínate una cantidad fabulosa y después de una breve pausa se añadía, pues cien veces más. Lo cierto era que con inteligencia, voluntad, astucia y con muy pocos escrúpulos, todo hay que decirlo, había levantado una gran empresa de programas informáticos y de juegos de ordenador que le situaba entre las primeras fortuna del país. Y además había invertido con éxito en negocios especulativos que le habían hecho aumentar su fortuna unos cuantos ceros. Se llamaba José María Fernández García y en su país había más de cuatro centenares de personas que se llamaban como él. A él le hubiera gustado tener un nombre y unos apellidos rimbombantes. Nombre de reyes, como Alfonso, Luís o Juan Carlos. Apellidos con sonoridad inglesa o americana: Bush, Reagan, Monroe, Kennedy, Washington, o incluso francesa: Michellet, Legrain y hasta italiana: Grimaldi, Da Vinci, Buonarroti. Le hubiera gustado provenir de una familia con pedigrí y no de un barrio humilde y periférico. Le hubiera gustado tener buenas maneras, elegancia y buen estilo. Pero todo en él delataba sus orígenes modestos. Era un hombre vulgar, sin ninguna cualidad que lo hiciera destacar de los otros hombres. No era ni alto ni bajo, ni feo ni guapo, ni gordo ni delgado. Seguramente que era todo eso lo que explicaba su enorme vanidad. Le gustaba tener los mejores coches, enormes palacios decorados por los más renombrados decoradores, vestir los trajes de los mejores modistos, viajar con su jet privado o con cualquiera de sus cinco yates, comer en los mejores restaurantes y mujeres hermosas revoloteando constantemente a su alrededor. Y, sobretodo, le gustaba mucho el ápodo que un economista le puso en la revista Financial Times: “El gran Emperador”. Tanto le gustaba que el holding que dirigía llevaba este nombre.
Desde hacía unos cinco años se había obsesionado con la pintura y había reunido una de las colecciones de pintura moderna más importante del país. No entendía nada de aquellos cuadros llenos de borrones, lineas y colores. Ni falta que le hacía. Él se dejaba caer en las subastas y cuando la cifra ultrapasaba los seis ceros levantaba la mano y adquiría el cuadro, ante la mirada llena de envidia de sus competidores. Esto le hacía muy feliz, pero su felicidad sólo duraba hasta el momento en que colgaba la pintura de alguna pared de sus palacios y podía asistir a otra subasta donde adquiría otra obra de arte a precio astronómico.
Un día se presentó ante él un sinvergüenza que afirmaba sin ningún tipo de rubor que era unos afamado pintor que había expuesto sus cuadros en las mejores exposiciones del mundo y que que tenía un cuadro único y nunca visto, algo maravilloso que lo convertiría en la admiración del mundo entero. Un cuadro que era la culminación de su carrera y del arte moderno. Un cuadro que había tardado cinco años en realizar.
-I además tiene unas propiedades que lo hacen muy útil- dijo el caradura-. El cuadro sólo puede ser apreciado por las personas que realmente entienden de arte.
José María García Fernández, Emperador, no podía resistir aquella propuesta y le pidió que se lo enseñara. El genio de la pintura le puso sobre alerta. Verlo de sopetón podría tener graves consecuencias. Estar expuesto de improviso y sin preparación ante un cuadro como aquel podía dañarle gravemente, tanta era la calidad y belleza del cuadro.
Emperador reunió a unos cuantos críticos, los más reputados del país para que le ayudaran a valorarlo. Cuando llegaron, el pintor, con su pico de oro, explicó a los críticos que aquel cuadro sólo podían valorarlo los más entendidos. Que los ignorantes poca cosa verían en él y que como otros grandes pintores vanguardistas, Picasso, Miró o Dalí, podía recibir muestras de desagrado. A él poco le importaba, tan seguro estaba de la enorme valía de los colores y formas de su obra maestra. Después de unos cuantos minutos de hacerse rogar, por fin el gran genio de la pintura les enseñó la gran maravilla del arte moderno. Un gran oh de admiración salió de sus bocas. Uno de ellos dijo que sólo era comparable a las más altas cimas de la pintura. Otro que era la síntesis del arte abstracto. El resto no tenían palabras para describir lo que aquella obra singular les sugería. Emperador no podía resistir más y pidió al gran genio que le dijera una cantidad. El pintor estuvo un buen rato divagando que el arte no tenía precio y que él sólo se debía a la búsqueda de la belleza. Después de un largo estira y afloja y ante las súplicas de los entendidos, el genio pintor cedió ante un cheque con ocho ceros.
Emperador preparó una gran fiesta para enseñar al mundo el cuadro que había comprado al último gran genio de la pintura, que por cierto nadie sabía donde estaba, ya que hacía más de cinco días que se había marchado a un destino que nadie conocía. Mejor, pensó el gran magnate, así todo el protagonismo será mio. Aquella fiesta era sublime. Emperador había reunido a todos sus mejores amigos y competidores, a los más afamados críticos, pintores y gente de cultura, a políticos y financieros, a actores y actrices, cantantes, bellas modelos y algún deportista con ingresos millonarios. Nadie que significara algo en la lista de ricos-ricas y famosos-famosas faltó a la fiesta. No faltaban, claro está, los periodistas y fotógrafos de los periódicos y revistas más importantes del mundo. La mejor orquesta del país amenizaba la velada y los canapés y el mejor champán francés ayudaban a hacer más soportable la espera. Sonaron las doce en el gran reloj de carillón. La gran hora por fin había llegado. Hasta cuatro criados se necesitaron para situar el enorme cuadro ante las miradas ansiosas de los espectadores. Un redoble de tambor acompañó las manos nerviosas de Emperador que desplegaba el gran velo que cubría la monumental pintura. Y cuando por fin cayó el manto un gran oh! llenó el salón. La gente estaba realmente impresionada. Hasta que de entre la multitud una voz pequeña, una vocecita de niño dijo:
-Pero si el cuadro está blanco. Si no hay cuadro.
Entonces la gente comenzó a murmurar y a decirse los unos a los otros:
-Pero si el cuadro está blanco. Si no hay cuadro.
Y entonces Emperador y todos los críticos se dieron cuenta que aquello no era un gran cuadro, sino un timo, una gran estafa. Burlado, Emperador pensó que nunca como entonces se había sentido tan humillado y tan pobre y que quizás no era tan malo llamarse José María Fernández García.

Pseudónimo: Eveline
Categoría: Bachillerato

SNOWHITE: the archer, Anna Ariño

Once upon a time, in a faraway forest, there lived a girl a with complex pale skin, black hair and deep blue eyes. Her skin was so white, that since she was a toddler everyone had called her Snowhite. She was a very joyful little girl, that grew up practically in the woods, and since she saw a lot of hunters, she had always had certain interest towards archery, and shehad taught herself from an early age to shoot an arrow, even though a lot of people told her it wasn’t the right thing to do for a little lady like her.
Snowhite’s mum h died when she was a little girl and her dad remarried. The woman he married to was a queen. Her dad didn’t notice, but she was very cruel to poor little Snowhite. The evil stepmother, obsessed with being beautiful, had a mirror to which she’d ask everyday who was the most gorgeous of them all. The mirror always responded quickly, “You, your majesty!”
The surprise came one day when the mirror answered that the most gorgeous of them all was Snowhite, instead of the queen. Enraged and jealous as ever, she ordered her hunters to kill Snowhite and bring her heart as proof. But, the hunters, pitying the poor girl, explained to her the situation and brought a deer’s heart instead to the queen. Snowhite obviously couldn’t go back home after that, because the queen couldn’t find out she was still alive.
So, she walked and walked through the forest all night, bow in hand. When the light from the new day started to shine, she had found a cozy house in the woods, and she went in. It was small, but it had seven beds in the bedroom. There was no-one home though, but when the sun went down again, seven dwarfs entered the house singing along a song.
At first, they all were a little startled since they didn’t know the girl, but then she proceeded explaining her story and they agreed that she could stay. But as she felt a bit useless while they worked at the mine, she went out hunting what they needed to eat.
On a rainy day, Snowhite decided not to go hunting because it was impossible to put up with the pouring rain outside. The day went by, and by noon, someone knocked at the door. Snowhite, curious but cautious, opened the door just enough to see who it was. It was an old woman, harmless at first sight, but Snowhite didn’t trust her entirely. She reminded her, oddly enough, of someone she didn’t like, but she couldn’t quite put the finger on whom.
“Hi there, young lady, I came by just to drop this apple, I thought on a rainy day like today you could use it, since you can’t really go hunting” said the old woman, stammering a bit, and Snowhite doubted if it was because of the cold or because the woman was overreacting.
“Thank you, ma’am! But it really wasn’t needed; I have plenty of food for everyone today.” Snowhite answered, trying to be polite.
“I insist! Take this apple; aren’t you dying to taste it? It is the reddest apple I have ever seen! And surely, very, very tasty” the woman added.
Snowhite finally agreed and took it, smiling again at the woman and thanking her. When the door closed, she felt how that apple wasn’t natural at all. There was something weird about the touch, and when she gently sniffed it, she could smell the poison. Just then, everything clicked in her head, and she realized the old woman was her stepmother all along. She let the apple hit the floor, then went to grab her bow, and proceeded looking for her stepmother.
Not even a minute passed before she heard a voice behind her.
“What on earth are you doing out here? You’ll catch the cold!” the old woman said.
Snowhite turned around, and her stepmother frowned at the sight of the bow she held in her hand. She had always hated how Snowhite ruined the whole little-miss-perfect façade by doing such thing as archery.
“I can easily take care of myself, and in fact, that’s what I’m doing when I’m not eating an apple poisoned by my stepmother, that wants me dead just because her stupid little mirror thinks that I’m more beautiful than her, and that beauty is oh-so-important in her life that it’s worth killing someone for, right? Think twice, because I’m so much more than a pretty face.” When she ended that little speech, she held the bow up and aimed, wanting to shoot in a not so dangerous place, just so her stepmother would learn the lesson. Her face went pale and she took off, how she could, with her injured leg.
Just a few meters from the scene, a young prince observed quietly. He had taken the day off to visit the forest, but he was on his way back to his car because of the rain. However, Snowhite’s action left him astonished. At first, he thought Snowhite was a very pretty girl, but when he contemplated the scene, he fell in love with that strong and brave girl. Despite his shyness, he decided to approach her.
“Hi, I’m Alex, sorry to bother you, it’s just that I just saw what happened, and let me tell you that was awesome! You were incredibly brave, and a lot of people would pay to have such skill with the bow.” She just smiled, proud of what she heard. He wanted to tell her about how beautiful she was, but he decided against it, since he knew that wasn’t what she wanted to hear, and there were plenty of other adjectives for her before one that was purely based on appearance.
“I’m Snowhite, and thank you very much! I’ve done archery for so long; it’s almost natural for me now.” She answered, smiling.

“Well, it was amazing anyway. I’d like to keep talking to you but, I’ve got to run because there are people expecting me. Either way, would you like for us to meet someday and keep telling me about this skill of yours?” the prince asked. She accepted, gladly.
“Sure! Just come around here one afternoon, and we’ll talk.” Snowhite answered, ending the conversation.
They both said their goodbyes and he walked towards his car. He couldn’t wait to know more about that curious girl called Snowhite, he was sure she wouldn’t leave his mind for a long while.