<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087</id><updated>2012-02-12T10:16:50.599-08:00</updated><category term='música'/><category term='Amanda Penha'/><category term='kine.'/><title type='text'>Tudo que parece ser eu é um bocado de alguém ♥</title><subtitle type='html'>Tão estranho carregar uma vida inteira no corpo e ninguém suspeitar dos traumas, das quedas, dos medos, dos choros...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>325</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-2236267304954801936</id><published>2012-01-29T12:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-29T12:14:35.087-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0J3RTI_Qg64/TyWoEI9TDaI/AAAAAAAABZY/q0-Bxpr7LZk/s1600/tumblr_lpubmiyZ1Q1qc2q1eo1_500.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 261px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0J3RTI_Qg64/TyWoEI9TDaI/AAAAAAAABZY/q0-Bxpr7LZk/s320/tumblr_lpubmiyZ1Q1qc2q1eo1_500.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703149292212129186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;i style="font-size: x-large; "&gt;&lt;span &gt;Ando&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span &gt; feliz, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b style="font-size: x-large; "&gt;cheia&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span &gt; de &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;b&gt;fé&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span &gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large; "&gt;♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-2236267304954801936?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2236267304954801936/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=2236267304954801936&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2236267304954801936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2236267304954801936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2012/01/ando-feliz-cheia-de-fe.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0J3RTI_Qg64/TyWoEI9TDaI/AAAAAAAABZY/q0-Bxpr7LZk/s72-c/tumblr_lpubmiyZ1Q1qc2q1eo1_500.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-3406974167122377305</id><published>2012-01-27T18:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-27T18:55:13.513-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DqLn_A_clh4/TyNjeQq557I/AAAAAAAABZM/C_SALBaOF5I/s1600/tumblr_lrji96GJAd1qi07hqo1_500.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 125px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DqLn_A_clh4/TyNjeQq557I/AAAAAAAABZM/C_SALBaOF5I/s320/tumblr_lrji96GJAd1qi07hqo1_500.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702510924703328178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span  &gt;                                                            ♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-3406974167122377305?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/3406974167122377305/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=3406974167122377305&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/3406974167122377305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/3406974167122377305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2012/01/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DqLn_A_clh4/TyNjeQq557I/AAAAAAAABZM/C_SALBaOF5I/s72-c/tumblr_lrji96GJAd1qi07hqo1_500.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-555096151849248113</id><published>2012-01-24T15:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-24T15:39:28.805-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-center; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt;&lt;span &gt;Eu quero mesmo é um&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt; amor&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span &gt;. Pode ser um &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;amor&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span &gt; feinho como o da Adélia, bem simplinho, bem básico, bem sem fru-fru. Não precisa ser lindão, mas também não pode ser jururu, não precisa ser de arrasar, não precisa embalagem fina, salto alto. Pode ser &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;amor&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span &gt; pé descalço, despretensioso, que, pra variar, esteja pertinho e, se não estiver, dê jeito de ficar o mais depressa e urgentemente possível. Um&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt; amor&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span &gt; de beijar, de amassar, aprazível, anti-derrapante que não solte as tiras, não deforme mas que, por favor, tenha cheiros vários. Um &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;amor&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span &gt; que não morra de susto, que não se tranque no armário, que não estaqueie, que não amarele, não fique pasmo, não encrenque e pare de funcionar da noite para o dia sem garantia ou assistência técnica. Pode ser sem opcionais, sem adereços, sem rima ou métrica, sem extras e sem bônus de vale-brinde, mas precisa estar em razoável estado de conservação. Muito importante é ser &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;amor&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span &gt; pé no chão: chega de platônicos, de fãs, admiradores ou de&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt; amor &lt;/b&gt;&lt;span &gt;de fantasia. Se você é daqueles que aprecia uma musa inspiradora e epifanias para carregar na lembrança e nos enlevos pro resto da vid&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-center; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt;&lt;span &gt;a, para sonhar, imaginar, recordar e rejubilar-se, vá procurar outra sílfide, outra ninfa, outra pobre coitada compatível com altares, alturas e símbalos sonantes. Eu quero um &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;amor&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span &gt; pulsante, para beijar de olhos abertos, para tratar da frieira, para ir ao supermercado, para resolver problema, para brigar por mais espaço na rede, para reclamar que desmarcou a página do livro, para passear na feira. Eu quero mesmo é uma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt; amor&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span &gt; bem vivo, daqueles férteis, tarados, famintos mas quietinhos, um&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt; amor&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span &gt; de mãos dadas, de subentendidos e gargalhadas, café bem forte, beijo no pescoço, almoço de domingo, família peculiar. Eu quero um&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt; amor&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span &gt; de se entregar que não me deixe esperando, não me pegue chorando de tristeza, que não me faça sofrer. Eu quero um &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;amor&lt;/b&gt; &lt;span &gt;sem aspereza, pra viver os dias todos: os muito quentes com gelo e limão, os muitos frios de pijama, chocolate e roupão. Eu quero um &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;amor&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span &gt; que faça da gente uma casa um para o outro, que nos torne reciprocamente refúgios contra todo o resto do mundo, um &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;amo&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;r&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span &gt; pra se abrir, se prescrutar, se invadir e não pa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-center; "&gt;&lt;span &gt;nicar. Eu quero um &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;amor&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span &gt; de surpresas boas, de confiança, de sofreguidão e de calmaria, um&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt; amor&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span &gt; pra luz do dia e o mesmo &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;amor&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span &gt; para as noites vadias, um &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;amor&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span &gt; para enfrentar tudo e todos juntos com a certeza de que ainda que não sobrasse nada, sobraríamos nós, um pra ser o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt; amor&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span &gt; do outro.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: -webkit-center;"&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="source" style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(112, 112, 112); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-center; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt;Patrícia Antoniete na &lt;a href="http://www.revistaparadoxo.com/materia.php?ido=6681" target="_blank" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-decoration: none; "&gt;In-Ventário&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-M-ZMJZlvh3c/Tx8_au_7kbI/AAAAAAAABZA/7hfYivM7RHY/s320/xaEEUCNr7om0wl86lAmxuiQ2o1_500.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701345381799662002" style="color: rgb(112, 112, 112); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-center; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 192px; " /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-555096151849248113?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/555096151849248113/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=555096151849248113&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/555096151849248113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/555096151849248113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2012/01/eu-quero-mesmo-e-um-amor.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-M-ZMJZlvh3c/Tx8_au_7kbI/AAAAAAAABZA/7hfYivM7RHY/s72-c/xaEEUCNr7om0wl86lAmxuiQ2o1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-2952317662635298355</id><published>2012-01-24T15:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-24T15:26:11.431-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Depois de um &lt;b&gt;tempo parado&lt;/b&gt;, estou oficialmente voltando a&lt;span &gt; escrever&lt;/span&gt;. Esse fim de ano foi brutal, muitas coisas novas acontecendo, &lt;span  &gt;muitas lembranças&lt;/span&gt; ruins ficaram pra trás e muitas saudades &lt;b&gt;&lt;span &gt;permaneceram.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hoje só vim dizer que: &lt;span style="color: rgb(112, 112, 112); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-center; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt;"Como fica &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(112, 112, 112); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, sans-serif; font-style: italic; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-center; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt;&lt;span &gt;forte&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(112, 112, 112); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-center; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt; uma pessoa quando está &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(112, 112, 112); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, sans-serif; font-style: italic; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-center; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt;&lt;span &gt;segura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(112, 112, 112); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-center; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt; de ser amada"   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="source" style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(112, 112, 112); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-center; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt;— Freud&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="source" style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(112, 112, 112); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; line-height: 18px; text-align: -webkit-center; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9lwUZZyS1yw/Tx88wd5MyEI/AAAAAAAABY0/RYQWtc7c7Sg/s1600/tumblr_lhou4xNFQB1qe2ovuo1_500.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 216px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9lwUZZyS1yw/Tx88wd5MyEI/AAAAAAAABY0/RYQWtc7c7Sg/s320/tumblr_lhou4xNFQB1qe2ovuo1_500.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701342456630265922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span &gt;É isso, ser amada é a melhor sensação do mundo, depois é claro da sensação de ser respeitada, que na teoria e na prática caminham juntas. Quero desejar pra vocês meus leitores e amigos, o que deixei a desejar aqui, que esse ano seja um ano de muitas vitórias e conquistas, que sejamos fortes e fiquemos em pés.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span &gt;♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-2952317662635298355?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2952317662635298355/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=2952317662635298355&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2952317662635298355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2952317662635298355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2012/01/depois-de-um-tempo-parado-estou.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9lwUZZyS1yw/Tx88wd5MyEI/AAAAAAAABY0/RYQWtc7c7Sg/s72-c/tumblr_lhou4xNFQB1qe2ovuo1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-5660105281256817300</id><published>2011-10-29T18:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-29T18:33:02.698-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>2 anos sem você, é uma dor irreparável e o nó na garganta permanece. Te amo ♥&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-5660105281256817300?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/5660105281256817300/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=5660105281256817300&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/5660105281256817300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/5660105281256817300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2011/10/2-anos-sem-voce-e-uma-dor-irreparavel-e.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-166926974160714173</id><published>2011-08-14T10:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-14T11:18:59.564-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Feliz Dia dos Pais.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Especialmente para o meu grande herói, que mesmo não estando aqui, está sempre presente em meus sonhos e pensamentos, inclusive em meu coração.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;1 ano e 7 meses que parecem que foi hoje, e a saudade é simplesmente enorme e difícil de preencher.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Quando te perdi, simplesmente perdi meu chão e meu teto, e uma vez me disseram que quem perde o teto, ganha as estrelas, e tenho certeza que ganhei uma bela estrela iluminada.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Te amo muito&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; ♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ng7fajfj0E4/TkgRcxtzklI/AAAAAAAABYQ/1u4kqQMJAhU/s1600/meu%2Bpai%2Be%2Beu%2B1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 254px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ng7fajfj0E4/TkgRcxtzklI/AAAAAAAABYQ/1u4kqQMJAhU/s320/meu%2Bpai%2Be%2Beu%2B1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5640777719361016402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-166926974160714173?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/166926974160714173/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=166926974160714173&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/166926974160714173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/166926974160714173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2011/08/feliz-dia-dos-pais.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ng7fajfj0E4/TkgRcxtzklI/AAAAAAAABYQ/1u4kqQMJAhU/s72-c/meu%2Bpai%2Be%2Beu%2B1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-4644468011887508469</id><published>2011-07-03T14:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-03T14:40:41.207-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Saudade do meu pai&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;/span&gt; só isso que eu tenho a dizer.&lt;br /&gt;Pelo menos ele se importava comigo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-4644468011887508469?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/4644468011887508469/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=4644468011887508469&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/4644468011887508469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/4644468011887508469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2011/07/saudade-do-meu-pai-so-isso-que-eu-tenho.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-4972858917428600637</id><published>2011-06-08T12:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-08T12:45:50.010-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;" Que seja doce''&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(Querido Deus, a única coisa que peço a você é que cuide dela enquanto eu não estiver por perto, e quando eu estiver que me ajude a cuidar.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3sOLkM9jjiA/Te_QTc05GkI/AAAAAAAABYA/p9yiui4uOZY/s1600/OgAAAGOiFDvJ88PZ6-waSxVzXRmgAzueH95O2bpdCiM8kS2OhDK5keY6D1r57VUyikR3VHVq5yu172CsmOk9NT1EjzEAm1T1UNuuvZ2XMDzUno7o_SGBL6hTzdSm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 255px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615936292928428610" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3sOLkM9jjiA/Te_QTc05GkI/AAAAAAAABYA/p9yiui4uOZY/s320/OgAAAGOiFDvJ88PZ6-waSxVzXRmgAzueH95O2bpdCiM8kS2OhDK5keY6D1r57VUyikR3VHVq5yu172CsmOk9NT1EjzEAm1T1UNuuvZ2XMDzUno7o_SGBL6hTzdSm.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Dias dos namorados chegando e a gente comemorando 1 ano de namoro, de amor e paixão. A descrição da nossa aliança fala tudo.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-4972858917428600637?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/4972858917428600637/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=4972858917428600637&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/4972858917428600637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/4972858917428600637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2011/06/que-seja-doce-querido-deus-unica-coisa.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3sOLkM9jjiA/Te_QTc05GkI/AAAAAAAABYA/p9yiui4uOZY/s72-c/OgAAAGOiFDvJ88PZ6-waSxVzXRmgAzueH95O2bpdCiM8kS2OhDK5keY6D1r57VUyikR3VHVq5yu172CsmOk9NT1EjzEAm1T1UNuuvZ2XMDzUno7o_SGBL6hTzdSm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-6930684431276484666</id><published>2011-05-05T01:16:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-05T01:16:58.202-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-style: italic;"&gt;A  vida anda tão boa e tão tranquila. Se eu conseguisse resumir esse  sentimento, diria que ele é inversamente proporcional aos julgamentos  rasos, esses que podemos disparar com tanta facilidade e azedume. Parece  que, ao contrário, quanto mais eu tento compreender as pessoas, num  exercício cotidiano de aproximação e humildade, mais eu me sinto feliz.  Com elas e comigo mesma.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;"&gt;(Rita Apoena)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-6930684431276484666?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/6930684431276484666/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=6930684431276484666&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/6930684431276484666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/6930684431276484666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2011/05/vida-anda-tao-boa-e-tao-tranquila.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-1124540582089034945</id><published>2011-04-22T22:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-22T22:22:06.153-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Quando  você vier haverá o encontro da sua busca com a minha espera. E o seu  abraço será a moldura do meu corpo. E a minha boca o pretexto para o seu  mais demorado beijo. E a gente vai brincar de se desmaterializar dentro  da música, de desatar auroras, de escrever poemas de orvalho... E eu  vou inventar uma madrugada eterna pra quando você tiver que ir embora no  dia seguinte. E você vai inventar um domingo que vai durar pra sempre  porque tenho preguiça das segundas-feiras. E a gente vai rir dessa  maldade da demora do tempo pra fazer essa brincadeira de desencontro:  quase nos deixou descrentes... A gente vai rir dessa maldade porque o  nosso amor será a coisa mais bonitinha do mundo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SXdduaiPVDo/TbJfG1w5imI/AAAAAAAABW8/1Xdb6QlGVsg/s1600/http---d.yimg.com-gg-u-f0930eff0e47139735670969fa8abbcc0991da91.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SXdduaiPVDo/TbJfG1w5imI/AAAAAAAABW8/1Xdb6QlGVsg/s320/http---d.yimg.com-gg-u-f0930eff0e47139735670969fa8abbcc0991da91.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598641857890978402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Não tive tempo de passar aqui e dizer que já, pois é, são 9 meses de namoro, de muitas conquistas, aprendizagens, alegrias e muito amor. Você me fez acreditar que mais uma vez era possível, que eu não estava enganada a respeito do amor, e hoje vejo que você é a pessoa certa pra me completar, a pessoa que me respeita, me cuida, me mima, aquela que sai da cozinha, sim da nossa cozinha, e para no meio do caminho, pra me encher de beijos, no colchão no meio da sala, a caminho do nosso quarto... Aquela que grita, mooooozãooo pega minha toalha e o chinelo que eu esqueci, quando está dentro do banho, e que vive me puxando pra baixo d'agua com você,  aquela que 4:00 horas da madrugada me pela no colo e me leva pra cama, quando durmo na sala, esperando você terminar seus trabalhos da faculdade, aquela que perde horas comigo no colchão no meio da sala, emaranhando meus cabelos, aquela que faz meu almoço do jeitinho que eu amo, com todos os seus retoques e gostos, aquela que me dá bom dia quando vira do lado na cama e me encontra olhando às escondidas pra você, te admirando, aquela que me dá um beijo bom antes de sair pra trabalhar, ou mesmo aquela que fica me esperando no ponto de ônibus da unesp pra te levar pra casa, a que toma milhões de chuvas e ventos em cima da minha moto junto comigo, aquela que enche os olhos de alegrias quando acha meus bilhetinhos pela casa, ou até mesmo aquela que discuti comigo, fica sem falar comigo, mais dez minuto depois tá me amando novamente, a que sabe me desculpar, me perdoar, me amar. Você é a mulher da minha vida, obrigada meu amor, por todos os dias poder estar contigo, e juntas construindo nossas vidas e traçando nossos caminhos e sonhos. Eu te amo muito.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-1124540582089034945?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/1124540582089034945/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=1124540582089034945&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/1124540582089034945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/1124540582089034945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2011/04/quando-voce-vier-havera-o-encontro-da.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SXdduaiPVDo/TbJfG1w5imI/AAAAAAAABW8/1Xdb6QlGVsg/s72-c/http---d.yimg.com-gg-u-f0930eff0e47139735670969fa8abbcc0991da91.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-8748720041434503978</id><published>2011-04-05T16:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-05T17:03:34.874-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; &lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:11pt;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Quem é verdadeiro , a gente&lt;b&gt; ama&lt;/b&gt; , sente , e guarda pra gente!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:11pt;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:11pt;"  &gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7erLusEvMgA/TZutrFIzekI/AAAAAAAABW0/hyCTDcWCqlI/s1600/1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7erLusEvMgA/TZutrFIzekI/AAAAAAAABW0/hyCTDcWCqlI/s320/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592254317935688258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:red;"&gt;♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:11pt;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-8748720041434503978?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/8748720041434503978/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=8748720041434503978&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/8748720041434503978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/8748720041434503978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2011/04/quem-e-verdadeiro-gente-ama-sente-e.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7erLusEvMgA/TZutrFIzekI/AAAAAAAABW0/hyCTDcWCqlI/s72-c/1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-6041579309308969520</id><published>2011-03-14T18:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-14T18:18:38.363-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ela e Eu</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div class="post-header"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;O tempo voa junto com os pensamentos. Passos lentos, mochila nas costas,  uma mão no bolso e a outra também. Sentindo o sabor de cala lágrima  caída, passando pelos lábios. No rosto, um óculos escuro, cobrindo,  praticamente, todo. Tudo isso, pra se sentir segura. Pra ninguém ver o  futuro pelos olhos dela. Todo começo de cada sentir, a chuva caía. Uma  mistura de frio e calor, seco e molhado, e assim seguia.  Olhando pro  céu, não se via a lua, nem estrelas. Sim, era noite e ela usava óculos.  Não por falta de colírio, pois não existe o porquê esconder nada de  ninguém, mas sim, pelo futuro daquele olhar. Coisas assim, de ela pra ela. Uma saudade só  dela, um sentir, um gosto, uma vontade, tudo. Não existem ponteiros  nessas horas. Tira uma das mãos do bolso com um dinheiro, e solta um  sorriso de canto ao comprar uma barra de chocolate. É, uma mulher  menina. Eterna minha menina. Não tem pressa. Tudo gira. Ela vai se perdendo  nos pontos de tudo. Desse texto, da vida, de tudo o que vê, do agora. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sentada  numa esteira, vê a lua andando no vento. Não havia núvens no céu.. Às vezes, dava cada  pulo, que parecia alcançar as estrelas. Voava. Ela, ali parada,  admirando cada gesto, cada segundo de cada passo e olhar. Tudo muito  lindo. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Cabelos ao vento, o coração guardando as melodias da verdade e  os olhos misteriosos escondidos. Ela é e sempre foi assim. Brinca de  esconder algumas coisas. Ninguém sabe, mas eu já descobri muitas coisas. É tão  instigante isso tudo. Nós achamos, nos achamos. É o conversar de olhos. Nós amamos os  olhares e o que eles dizem. Ela acha mais engraçado do que eu, quando o  olhar contradiz o que a boca fala. O de dentro entende mais, por isso  ela solta gargalhadas que às vezes, eu não entendo, mas me melhora.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A  deixo só e de longe, a observo. Ela nunca me deixou só, mas prefere  ficar só. Amamos velas, músicas, vinhos e pessoas de sentimentos de  verdade. Ela e eu, misturamos alma e coração. É tão gostoso de se  sentir...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;O olhar sutil da lua, os sentimentos guardados, a chuva, os  óculos em todas as horas e um sorriso de canto de boca, seu bailado no vento. Já é dia,  vamos dormir com a lembrança daquele sorriso da lua, da vida. Sem  distância, tudo em nosso peito. Dela e meu. Nosso relicário secreto. Nos  Deitamos. Ela, Eu... Ah! Sem despedidas, por favor. Estamos sempre  juntas num só corpo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: Que Seja Doce.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-6041579309308969520?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/6041579309308969520/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=6041579309308969520&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/6041579309308969520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/6041579309308969520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2011/03/ela-e-eu.html' title='Ela e Eu'/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-8312506633225186731</id><published>2010-12-01T20:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-01T20:25:34.032-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O amor desmetaforizado: O soneto CXXX de Shakespeare.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Não tem olhos solares meu amor;&lt;br /&gt;Mais rubro que seus lábios é o coral;&lt;br /&gt;Se neve é branca, é escura a sua cor;&lt;br /&gt;E a cabeleira ao arame é igual.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Vermelha e branca é a rosa adamascada&lt;br /&gt;Mas tal rosa sua face não iguala;&lt;br /&gt;E há fragrância bem mais delicada&lt;br /&gt;Do que a do ar que minha amante exala.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Muito gosto de ouvi-la, mesmo quando&lt;br /&gt;Na música há melhor diapasão;&lt;br /&gt;Nunca vi uma deusa deslisando&lt;br /&gt;Mas minha amada caminha no chão.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mas juro que esse amor me é mais caro&lt;br /&gt;Que qualquer outra à qual eu a comparo.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;“ Com as leves asas do amor transpus estes muros, porque os limites de  pedra não servem de empecilho para o amor. E o que o amor pode fazer, o  amor ousa tentar ” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Te amo amor meu, sem pressa e com tal ternura, de tamanha intensidade, até quando meu coração conseguir sentir o teu.  (5 meses de todo meu amor e carinho.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-8312506633225186731?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/8312506633225186731/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=8312506633225186731&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/8312506633225186731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/8312506633225186731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/12/o-amor-desmetaforizado-o-soneto-cxxx-de.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-1853939931948773741</id><published>2010-10-20T23:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-20T23:23:44.388-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/TL_b1Nme1II/AAAAAAAABV8/6wSkN2TiB7c/s1600/gghh.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 303px; height: 206px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/TL_b1Nme1II/AAAAAAAABV8/6wSkN2TiB7c/s320/gghh.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5530380574664873090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 19px;font-family:trebuchet,verdana,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"  &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-width: 0px; margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding: 0px;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-width: 0px; margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding: 0px;font-family:'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;" &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-width: 0px; color: rgb(68, 68, 68); margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;b  style="border-width: 0px; margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding: 0px;font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;i  style="border-width: 0px; margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding: 0px;font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-width: 0px; margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;  O&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt; amor é encostar para dormir e ficar mais acordado ainda.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-width: 0px; margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding: 0px;font-size:13px;" &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-width: 0px; margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding: 0px;font-family:'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;font-size:13px;"  &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-width: 0px; color: rgb(68, 68, 68); margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding: 0px;font-size:13px;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-width: 0px; margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding: 0px;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:red;"&gt;♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-width: 0px; margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding: 0px;font-size:13px;" &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-width: 0px; margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding: 0px;font-family:'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;font-size:13px;"  &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-width: 0px; color: rgb(68, 68, 68); margin: 0px; outline-width: 0px; padding: 0px;font-size:13px;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=";font-family:'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;font-size:small;"  &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;font-size:13px;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-1853939931948773741?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/1853939931948773741/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=1853939931948773741&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/1853939931948773741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/1853939931948773741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/10/o-amor-e-encostar-para-dormir-e-ficar.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/TL_b1Nme1II/AAAAAAAABV8/6wSkN2TiB7c/s72-c/gghh.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-1024777065958441252</id><published>2010-10-14T22:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-14T22:22:39.628-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Só por hoje eu queria tua presença diante de mim, me olhando nos olhos, me deitando em seu colo, e cantando baixinho pra eu dormir nos seus braços. Eu te amo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-1024777065958441252?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/1024777065958441252/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=1024777065958441252&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/1024777065958441252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/1024777065958441252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/10/so-por-hoje-eu-queria-tua-presenca.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-2897426534926503954</id><published>2010-09-27T16:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-27T16:59:06.526-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Você invade meus pensamentos, enche meu coração de saudade, me faz sorrir de felicidade, me enche de mistério e magia. Você me fascina, me faz viver, é minha esperança, me faz vencer. E a cada passo que eu dou, jamais vou esquecer que eu amo amar você. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Eu te amo meu amor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-2897426534926503954?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2897426534926503954/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=2897426534926503954&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2897426534926503954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2897426534926503954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/09/voce-invade-meus-pensamentos-enche-meu.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-2239612896873616294</id><published>2010-08-04T15:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-04T15:11:38.790-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Faz um bom &lt;strong&gt;tempo&lt;/strong&gt; que a &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#660000;"&gt;vontade de escrever&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; e de poetizar se resume a &lt;strong&gt;você.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-2239612896873616294?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2239612896873616294/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=2239612896873616294&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2239612896873616294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2239612896873616294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/08/faz-um-bom-tempo-que-vontade-de.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-2624196214485580102</id><published>2010-07-27T00:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-27T01:07:45.647-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Essa vida é tão confusa, fico horas tentando entender qual o real motivo de estar aqui, fazendo tudo que faco, tentando ser feliz, tentando fazer alguém feliz. Meus sentimentos são de total clareza, como nunca foi, não me importa a distância dos seus abracos, me importa a distância do seu coracao, e é pra isso que eu estou lutando, quero estar nele, quero fazer dessa relacao, da nossa relacao algo concreto e forte, que não seja fácil de abalar, e eu te pedi isso, e você está me dando, não pretendo falhar, não porque não posso, mais porque eu não quero, não com você.&lt;br /&gt;Nosso barco foi lancado ao mar, e é como te disse, agora remamos, juntas, não importa se não temos remos ou velas, a gente espera a melhor brisa, a gente constrói as velas, devagar a gente constrói tudo que a gente quiser, e constrói o mais essencial, a nossa base, até que chegue ao topo, intacta e forte.&lt;br /&gt;Não pretendo desistir assim tão fácil, não mesmo, teu sorriso é um motivo a mais, pra eu continuar, e é o que pretendo fazer enquanto isso vou cuidando de você.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Por: &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Amanda Penha&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-2624196214485580102?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2624196214485580102/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=2624196214485580102&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2624196214485580102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2624196214485580102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/07/essa-vida-e-tao-confusa-fico-horas.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-2042779404237502071</id><published>2010-07-18T14:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-18T14:21:03.596-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Que seja doce o dia quando eu abrir as janelas e lembrar de &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;você&lt;/span&gt;. Que sejam doce os finais de tardes, inclusive os de segunda-feira - quando começa a contagem regressiva para o final de semana chegar. Que seja doce a espera pelas mensagens, ligações e recadinhos bonitinhos. Que seja (mais do que) doce a voz ao falar no telefone. Que seja doce o seu &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;cheiro&lt;/span&gt;.Que seja doce o &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;seu&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;jeito&lt;/span&gt;, seus &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;olhares&lt;/span&gt;, seu &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;receio&lt;/span&gt;. Que seja doce o seu modo de &lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;andar&lt;/span&gt;, de sentir, de demonstrar afeto. Que sejam doce suas &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;expressões&lt;/span&gt; faciais, até o levantar de sobrancelha. Que seja doce a leveza que eu sentirei ao seu lado. Que seja doce a &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;ausência&lt;/span&gt; do meu medo. Que seja doce o seu &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;abraço&lt;/span&gt;. Que seja doce o modo como você irá segurar na minha mão. Que seja doce. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Que sejamos doce.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;(Caio F. de Abreu.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: Muito feliz por ter você comigo.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 256px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495359217630260370" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/TENwF8AFLJI/AAAAAAAABT4/eqE2HvRCrIs/s320/untitled.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-2042779404237502071?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2042779404237502071/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=2042779404237502071&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2042779404237502071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2042779404237502071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/07/que-seja-doce-o-dia-quando-eu-abrir-as.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/TENwF8AFLJI/AAAAAAAABT4/eqE2HvRCrIs/s72-c/untitled.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-387054736618173282</id><published>2010-07-12T21:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T21:59:43.775-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;'' Quando você não tem um &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;amor&lt;/span&gt;, você ainda tem as &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;estradas&lt;/span&gt;.''&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sempre vivi nas estradas, indo e vindo, sempre tive muitos amores, indo e vindo, e agora eu lhes pergunto, o que fazer? a qual recorrer? a qual escolher? de alguma forma numa escolha  perderei algo, da qual talvez eu não possa recuperar. O tempo mata, mais do que achamos, ele não é só nosso amigo, mais também o grande vilão.&lt;br /&gt;Vou sempre acabar sendo uma estrela num vazio, a navegar.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-387054736618173282?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/387054736618173282/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=387054736618173282&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/387054736618173282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/387054736618173282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/07/quando-voce-nao-tem-um-amor-voce-ainda.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-5863432722644650137</id><published>2010-06-20T22:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-20T22:16:38.301-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;É cansativo viver &lt;strong&gt;sem vírgulas&lt;/strong&gt; porque eu respiro a sua existência 24 horas por dia, e só coloco vírgulas teatrais para você não enjoar de mim.&lt;br /&gt;Te amar &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;não é fácil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, é quase o anti-amor. É muito quase como se você nem existisse, porque só o homem perfeito mereceria tanto sentimento. E &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;eu te anulo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; o tempo todo dizendo para mim, repetindo para mim, o quanto você falha, o quanto você fraqueja, o quanto você se engana.&lt;br /&gt;E fazendo isso, eu só consigo&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;te amar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; mais ainda.&lt;br /&gt;E a gente vai por aí, se completando assim meio torto mesmo. E &lt;strong&gt;Deus&lt;/strong&gt; escrevendo certo pelas nossas linhas que se não fossem tão &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;tortas&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, não teriam se cruzado.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 252px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485091301074689714" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/TB71eiEkXrI/AAAAAAAABTo/6CcKBwcNFOI/s320/93463947%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-5863432722644650137?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/5863432722644650137/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=5863432722644650137&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/5863432722644650137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/5863432722644650137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/06/e-cansativo-viver-sem-virgulas-porque.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/TB71eiEkXrI/AAAAAAAABTo/6CcKBwcNFOI/s72-c/93463947%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-2010685479076399655</id><published>2010-06-17T14:44:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-17T14:47:36.775-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Amor cada vez maior</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Eu prefiro morrer sua amiga do que quebrar algum elo misterioso e te perder para sempre. Te perder como sempre.. Tenho vontade de perguntar baixinho: Você não gosta nem um pouquinho de mim? Nem sequer um tiquinho? Eu sempre me apaixono por você. Todas as vezes que te vi, eu sempre me apaixonei por você. Eu nunca vou entender. Eu nunca vou saber porque a vida é assim. Eu nunca vou entender porque a gente continua voltando pra casa querendo ser de alguém, ainda que a gente esteja um ao lado do outro. Eu nunca vou entender porque você é exatamente o que eu quero, eu sou exatamente o que você quer, mas as nossas exatidões não funcionam numa conta de mais!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Você me lembra o mistério da vida.. É assim que a gente faz com a nossa própria existência: Não entendemos nada, mas continuamos insistindo! É isso, sei lá, mas acho que amo você. Amo de todas as maneiras possíveis. Sem pressa, como se só saber que você existe já me bastasse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sem idade, porque a mesma vontade que eu tenho de te beijar em qualquer lugar eu tenho de passear de mãos dadas com você. E por fim te amo até sem amor, como se isso tudo fosse tão grande, tão grande, tão absurdo, que quase não é. Eu te amo de um jeito tão impossível que é como se eu nem te amasse. E aí eu desencano desse amor, de tanto que eu encano.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ninguém acredita na gente: Nenhuma terapeuta, nenhum parente, nenhum amigo, nenhum e-mail, nenhuma mensagem de texto, nenhum rastro, nenhuma fofoca e, principalmente (ou infelizmente): Nem você! Mas eu te amo também do jeito mais óbvio de todos: Eu te amo burra, estúpida, cega.. E eu acredito na gente. Amo tanto, tanto, tanto, que te deixo em paz. Deixo você se virando sozinha, se dobrando sozinha &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-2010685479076399655?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2010685479076399655/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=2010685479076399655&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2010685479076399655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2010685479076399655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/06/amor-cada-vez-maior.html' title='Amor cada vez maior'/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-508567988249989846</id><published>2010-06-08T21:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-08T21:58:51.935-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sinto &lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#666666;"&gt;saudades&lt;/span&gt; de quando deitávamos no gramado pra ver&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;estrelas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; no céu, brincando de tentar pegá-las, hoje tenho estrelas ao seu alcançe, porém me falta tuas mãos para&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;tocá-las&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#999999;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 195px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480633111239834034" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/TA8exuuxubI/AAAAAAAABTY/A0AuG2Vn5a0/s320/OgAAAKU7N1h8Nl2ou__DdZaY5jQqYz95T9oy10FArZ4texZ8MOozAyiOOzi2aVWRYKVKisuoVnF23HPGnxpQ_99jvlQAm1T1UHYVwC7cXCLbEOQsBxO0ooIGGXu_.jpg" /&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Às vezes me faltam estrelas&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-508567988249989846?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/508567988249989846/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=508567988249989846&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/508567988249989846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/508567988249989846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/06/sinto-saudades-de-quando-deitavamos-no.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/TA8exuuxubI/AAAAAAAABTY/A0AuG2Vn5a0/s72-c/OgAAAKU7N1h8Nl2ou__DdZaY5jQqYz95T9oy10FArZ4texZ8MOozAyiOOzi2aVWRYKVKisuoVnF23HPGnxpQ_99jvlQAm1T1UHYVwC7cXCLbEOQsBxO0ooIGGXu_.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-8747953962617797825</id><published>2010-05-26T18:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-26T18:57:15.247-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Eu sei que é tarde,mas a madrugada é a minha tarde.&lt;br /&gt;Sim, eu sei muito bem de todos os pesares e os malefícios de trocar o&lt;strong&gt; sol&lt;/strong&gt; pela lâmpada incandescente, mas também sou capaz de perceber a sensação de liberdade que existe quando minha &lt;strong&gt;sombra&lt;/strong&gt; se perde na penumbra. E são raríssimos os momentos em que estou tão sozinho a ponto de ouvir meus &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;batimentos cardíacos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. Basta fechar os&lt;strong&gt; olhos&lt;/strong&gt;. É na escuridão que eu tento encontrar tudo aquilo que eu perdi achando que, ao te encontrar, não mais precisaria de nada. É na mesma escuridão que eu tento te ajudar. Esse pedaços de mim &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;espalhados pelo caminho&lt;/span&gt; são pra você &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;se guiar.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-8747953962617797825?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/8747953962617797825/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=8747953962617797825&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/8747953962617797825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/8747953962617797825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/05/eu-sei-que-e-tardemas-madrugada-e-minha.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-9134815646227327951</id><published>2010-05-26T17:45:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-26T17:47:40.995-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;“ Talvez eu sinta para sempre esses &lt;strong&gt;arrepios&lt;/strong&gt; como quem tem uma doença crônica. Um reumatismo de amor que de vez em quando finca e maltrata. &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Depois passa&lt;/span&gt;. E volta – não há como virar uma página que insiste em crescer de novo diante dos &lt;strong&gt;meus olhos&lt;/strong&gt;. Que insiste em se reescrever.”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-9134815646227327951?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/9134815646227327951/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=9134815646227327951&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/9134815646227327951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/9134815646227327951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/05/talvez-eu-sinta-para-sempre-esses.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-3903757423956460836</id><published>2010-05-19T00:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-19T01:15:41.161-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Você me embala dentro dos teus &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;braços&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, você cobre com a boca meus &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ouvidos&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472891511951759298" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_Od1WAil8I/AAAAAAAABSQ/cH9wYivhbo8/s320/IMG_2965+copy.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Pensei tanto naquele abraço.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-3903757423956460836?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/3903757423956460836/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=3903757423956460836&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/3903757423956460836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/3903757423956460836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/05/voce-me-embala-dentro-dos-teus-bracos.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_Od1WAil8I/AAAAAAAABSQ/cH9wYivhbo8/s72-c/IMG_2965+copy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-2418336721264054824</id><published>2010-05-16T15:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-17T02:09:22.324-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_EHt0XPRnI/AAAAAAAABSI/ayjPgPA4Zhs/s1600/twilight_new_moon_new_picture.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 306px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472163505963484786" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_EHt0XPRnI/AAAAAAAABSI/ayjPgPA4Zhs/s320/twilight_new_moon_new_picture.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;Hoje, sobretudo hoje, a &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;lembrança de você&lt;/span&gt; é mais forte, todos os momentos, todos os sorrisos, as dificuldades, as escapadas, as fugas, seus abraços, suas loucuras.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;Essa vida louca, sim louca na qual a minha tem se tornado, vivo tentendo me desviar &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;dos meus sentimentos, da sua face que aparece vez em quando de noite quando me deito.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;Se alguém sabe a solução para deter isso, me ajude, e não me digam que essa ferida só cura com outro &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;amor&lt;/span&gt;, porque eu sei que é mentira, você me&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt; marcou como ferro&lt;/span&gt; quente, mesmo estando o tempo todo acompanhada, sigo mentindo pra todos mais não consigo mentir pra mim mesma que é de você a quem devo estar ao lado, mesmo que nossos &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;caminhos&lt;/span&gt; sejam separados, ao contrário, não importa, um dia você me disse que a terra é redonda, e que em algum momento de nossas vidas a gente acabaria se cruzando novamente, e tomara que dessa vez possamos &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;ficar juntos&lt;/span&gt;, sem interrupções, &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;sem mágoas&lt;/span&gt;, apenas nós.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;[Confissões de um dia que hoje eu senti muito a sua falta.]&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Amanda Penha)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-2418336721264054824?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2418336721264054824/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=2418336721264054824&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2418336721264054824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2418336721264054824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/05/hoje-sobretudo-hoje-lembranca-de-voce-e.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_EHt0XPRnI/AAAAAAAABSI/ayjPgPA4Zhs/s72-c/twilight_new_moon_new_picture.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-4069478781720479007</id><published>2010-05-10T22:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-10T22:44:20.722-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Eu poderia suportar, embora não sem &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;dor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, que tivessem morrido todos os &lt;strong&gt;meus amores&lt;/strong&gt;, mas &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;enlouqueceria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; se morressem todos os meus &lt;strong&gt;amigos&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-4069478781720479007?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/4069478781720479007/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=4069478781720479007&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/4069478781720479007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/4069478781720479007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/05/eu-poderia-suportar-embora-nao-sem-dor.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-5530827497318205948</id><published>2010-05-06T10:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-06T10:47:21.376-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Uma hora você tem que tomar uma decisão. As fronteiras não mantêm as &lt;strong&gt;pessoas para fora&lt;/strong&gt;, elas te prendem dentro de si.&lt;strong&gt; A vida&lt;/strong&gt; é confusa mesmo, é assim que fomos feitos. Então você pode &lt;strong&gt;desperdiçar&lt;/strong&gt; sua vida desenhando linhas ou então você pode viver cruzando-as.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mas há algumas que são perigosas demais para &lt;strong&gt;serem cruzadas&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;E aí vai o que eu sei: se você estiver disposto a jogar a preucaução pela janela e se arriscar, a vista do outro lado é &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;espetacular.&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 239px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468214663643951122" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S-MAQ8YUcBI/AAAAAAAABRY/KuhMwYlyJoE/s320/53578~Cliff-Diving-At-Sunset-Posters.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-5530827497318205948?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/5530827497318205948/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=5530827497318205948&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/5530827497318205948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/5530827497318205948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/05/uma-hora-voce-tem-que-tomar-uma-decisao.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S-MAQ8YUcBI/AAAAAAAABRY/KuhMwYlyJoE/s72-c/53578~Cliff-Diving-At-Sunset-Posters.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-8067127732311586714</id><published>2010-05-04T23:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-04T23:21:10.931-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;'' E essa falta cresce à cada dia, de forma avassaladora...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;quando enfim penso que estou me acostumando, que estou te esquecendo, &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;você ressurge&lt;/span&gt; de forma inesperada ocupando todos os espaços,  transbordando de dentro de mim, e é nessa inconstante loucura que eu &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;vivo sem te ter&lt;/span&gt;. '' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;                                     &lt;/span&gt;(Caio Fernando de Abreu)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-8067127732311586714?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/8067127732311586714/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=8067127732311586714&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/8067127732311586714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/8067127732311586714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/05/e-essa-falta-cresce-cada-dia-de-forma.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-2124117696439263999</id><published>2010-04-26T19:09:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-26T19:23:47.425-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Bom é ver quem&lt;strong&gt; você gosta bem&lt;/strong&gt;, estamos do mesmo lado.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Quero que &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;você &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;esteja bem que eu possa estar ao &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;seu lado&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 243px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464635154115339138" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S9ZIuEQoI4I/AAAAAAAABRQ/mCCGmpRxQvw/s320/1268003513_77241415.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Gostando muito de você já, você está me fazendo tão bem, não é igual ao resto dos relacionamentos que tive, sim ''restos'' não sei se aprendi muito com esses restos, todos não me completaram em muita coisa, quase nada, vivo muito ao extremo, ou me completa por inteira, ou não me completa, ou fica ou vai, entende? e você tem ficado, não tem desistido de mim, se mostra cada dia mais uma pessoa em quem eu possa confiar, algo completo, sem restos, nem sobras(...), e é de uma pessoa assim que eu necessito, que eu sei que numa hora de aflição e angústias não vai correr, e me deixar na estrada, e sim que correrá junto comigo, obrigada por ter entrado na minha vida e me mostrado o significado de muitas coisas. Como você mesmo diz: da sua burguesinha)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Por: Amanda Penha&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-2124117696439263999?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2124117696439263999/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=2124117696439263999&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2124117696439263999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2124117696439263999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/04/bom-e-ver-quem-voce-gosta-bem-estamos.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S9ZIuEQoI4I/AAAAAAAABRQ/mCCGmpRxQvw/s72-c/1268003513_77241415.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-5459431714394770083</id><published>2010-04-21T20:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-21T20:35:33.494-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Mas tudo está bem &lt;strong&gt;agora,&lt;/strong&gt; eu digo: agora. Houve uma mudança de planos e eu me sinto incrivelmente leve e feliz. Descobri tantas coisas. Tantas, Tantas. Existe tanta coisa mais importante nessa vida que &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;sofrer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; por amor. &lt;strong&gt;Que viver um amor&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;strong&gt;Tantos amigos&lt;/strong&gt;. Tantos lugares. Tantas frases e livros e sentidos. Tantas pessoas novas. Indo. Vindo. Tenho só um mundo &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;pela frente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. E olhe pra ele. Olhe o mundo! É tão pequeno diante de tudo o que sinto. Sofrer dói. Dói e não é pouco. Mas faz um bem danado depois que passa. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Descobri,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; ou melhor, aceitei: eu nunca vou esquecer o amor da minha vida. Nunca. Mas agora, com sua licença. Não dá mais para ocupar o mesmo espaço. &lt;strong&gt;Meu tempo&lt;/strong&gt; não se mede em relógios. E a vida lá fora, me chama!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-5459431714394770083?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/5459431714394770083/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=5459431714394770083&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/5459431714394770083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/5459431714394770083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/04/mas-tudo-esta-bem-agora-eu-digo-agora.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-8096548387554687124</id><published>2010-04-19T17:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-19T17:45:18.149-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Quero &lt;strong&gt;domingos de manhã&lt;/strong&gt;, quero cama desarumada, lençol, &lt;strong&gt;café&lt;/strong&gt; e travesseiro.&lt;br /&gt;Quero &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;seu beijo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, &lt;strong&gt;quero seu cheiro&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Quero aquele olhar que não cansa, o desejo &lt;strong&gt;que escorre pela boca&lt;/strong&gt;, e o minuto no segundo seguinte: nada é muito quando&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; é demais. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Caio F. de Abreu.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 257px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462013672596147970" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S8z4fwlrjwI/AAAAAAAABRI/ZVofQTkXceY/s320/casal-alegre-na-cama1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Sempre Quero algum cheiro perto de mim.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-8096548387554687124?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/8096548387554687124/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=8096548387554687124&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/8096548387554687124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/8096548387554687124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/04/quero-domingos-de-manha-quero-cama.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S8z4fwlrjwI/AAAAAAAABRI/ZVofQTkXceY/s72-c/casal-alegre-na-cama1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-8498622037845299323</id><published>2010-04-16T09:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-16T10:02:58.973-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;" Também não quero me &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;buscar&lt;/span&gt; nos outros, me amoldar ao que eles &lt;strong&gt;pensam&lt;/strong&gt;, e no fim não saber distinguir o&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt; &lt;strong&gt;pensar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; deles do meu."&lt;/span&gt; (Caio f. de Abreu.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 212px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460781878037459074" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S8iYL4RQMII/AAAAAAAABQ4/EXJeujtavEs/s320/A-forca-da-mulher.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;[Hoje, estou cada vez mais de ferro, meu coração que antes era de vidro, que vivia se quebrando e eu insistia em colar os caquinhos, hoje é de ferro, duro, feito de material bruto, feito de todas as mágoas e tristezas. Cansei de buscar nos outros algo que chamamos de felicidade, agora a felicidade que busco é comigo mesma, meus pensamentos somente a mim me pertencem.]&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Por: Amanda Penha&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-8498622037845299323?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/8498622037845299323/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=8498622037845299323&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/8498622037845299323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/8498622037845299323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/04/tambem-nao-quero-me-buscar-nos-outros.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S8iYL4RQMII/AAAAAAAABQ4/EXJeujtavEs/s72-c/A-forca-da-mulher.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-4434968462760006722</id><published>2010-04-13T20:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-13T21:15:02.388-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;Hoje eu resolvi escrever algo porque como vocês viram, faz um tempo que eu não escrevo, estive meio ausente em tudo, parece que quanto mais a gente entra em compromissos importantes menos tempo sobra para as coisas boas da vida.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;E nada de escrever hoje coisas dificieis, com regras portuguesas, hahahahaha.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;A realidade realmente me pegou em cheio esses meses, tcc (trabalho de conclusão do curso) tira todo o resto de vida que eu tenho, e pra me ajudar mal paro em Marília, estou viajando demais, cada final de semana em um lugar, é a rotina está ai, apesar de que eu nunca fico na rotina... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Bom vamos começar por coisas boas, esses meses de tanto trabalho acabei conhecendo intercambistas maravilhosos: Uma dinamarquesa, uma americana e uma alemã, a gente tem saido sempre que eu fico em minha cidade, é muito bom quando se troca experiências.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Pra ser sincera não tenho visto muito meus amigos, amigos que eu digo o melhor, vez em quando dou um pulo no trabalho dele quando me resta tempo, faz uma falta danada todas as nossas noites de brisas e caminhadas noturnas, passando frio ou um deitado no colo do outro, ser adulto é tão chato.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Quando não estou treinando, ou sentada na frente do computador editando a monografia ou nas aulas de carros, ou nos estágios da faculdade, ou nas aulas e provas, acho um tempo pra ficar na televisão, nunca gostei muito de dormir, acho uma perca de tempo, não sei ser sedentária.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;E o coração? ahh esse meu coração está tão tranquilo, em paz, sempre se apaixonando é fato, é fato também que ele nunca fica sozinho, mais também não esquece uma pessoa importante que fisicamente não esta perto de mim, mais de algum modo ela sempre está presente de alguma forma, '' Toda a minha saudade e o meu amor de sempre''.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Sinto muita falta do eu pai, há cinco meses nunca um dia se quer eu deixei de lembrar dele, parece maluquisse mais conto todos os dias, cada minuto e momento que ele não passa mais ao meu lado, isso tudo eu chamo de amor eterno.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Mudei muito, não sou mais a mesma pessoa, e continuo cada dia não sendo a mesma.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 219px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459841552619251394" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S8VA9vHJpsI/AAAAAAAABQw/x_jq5ckNkUE/s320/fe-e-compromisso2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;'' Mais eu rezo. &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Tenho fé&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Descobri qualquer coisa dentro de mim que, não sei exatamente como, nem por quê, consegue manter-se &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;serena&lt;/span&gt; no meio dessa falta&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt; absoluta de perspectivas&lt;/span&gt;.''&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Amanda Penha&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-4434968462760006722?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/4434968462760006722/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=4434968462760006722&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/4434968462760006722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/4434968462760006722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/04/hoje-eu-resolvi-escrever-algo-porque.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S8VA9vHJpsI/AAAAAAAABQw/x_jq5ckNkUE/s72-c/fe-e-compromisso2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-4289383775322199426</id><published>2010-04-01T10:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-01T10:39:24.296-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"As &lt;strong&gt;vezes&lt;/strong&gt; ouço passar o vento, e só de ouvir o &lt;strong&gt;vento&lt;/strong&gt; passar, vale a pena ter &lt;strong&gt;nascido&lt;/strong&gt;."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-4289383775322199426?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/4289383775322199426/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=4289383775322199426&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/4289383775322199426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/4289383775322199426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/04/as-vezes-ouco-passar-o-vento-e-so-de.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-389041636840317969</id><published>2010-03-21T19:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-21T20:56:33.328-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Não pretendo &lt;strong&gt;parar&lt;/strong&gt;, me diz quem &lt;strong&gt;caminha&lt;/strong&gt; quando se pode &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;voar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#000000;"&gt;-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 222px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451285793510437778" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S6bbjAtSs5I/AAAAAAAABQo/AGwHXmTLe1k/s320/5.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-389041636840317969?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/389041636840317969/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=389041636840317969&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/389041636840317969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/389041636840317969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/03/nao-pretendo-parar-me-diz-quem-caminha.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S6bbjAtSs5I/AAAAAAAABQo/AGwHXmTLe1k/s72-c/5.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-325736640769670169</id><published>2010-03-20T00:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-20T00:20:15.220-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Quando eu te vi pela primeira vez, acho que foram os seus &lt;strong&gt;olhos claros&lt;/strong&gt; que me convidaram. Havia tanta gente. Você me olhava com &lt;strong&gt;medo&lt;/strong&gt;, parecia que era medo. Pelo tempo que demorou a vir me &lt;strong&gt;perguntar qualquer&lt;/strong&gt; coisa, acho que era mesmo um pouco de medo. Você dizia coisas tão fascinantes. Ou era eu que escutava só o que eu queria ouvir? &lt;strong&gt;Você me ganhou&lt;/strong&gt; desde o primeiro olhar. E foi me ganhando. Mas você parece me perder aos poucos agora. Eu não sei se espero, se vou, se é cedo ou se é tarde. Você me confunde. Eu não consigo te decifrar, você carrega qualquer coisa de &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;saudade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. Antes mesmo de você chegar eu já estou &lt;strong&gt;sentindo saudade&lt;/strong&gt;. Acho que é a ausência, que mesmo que você &lt;strong&gt;lute&lt;/strong&gt; contra ela, você aprendeu a ser ausente. Eu carrego uma multidão no peito. São muitas e muitas pessoas. E todas elas querem um pouco. Todas elas &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;sentem&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; saudade, você consegue deixar a multidão do meu peito sozinha. Você consegue não dar a mão para nenhuma das pessoas que eu trago comigo. Eu não peço muito, posso transformar essa multidão em uma só. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Eu não peço muito&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, só não quero mais essa sua &lt;strong&gt;saudade&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Maria Clara Moraes&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-325736640769670169?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/325736640769670169/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=325736640769670169&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/325736640769670169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/325736640769670169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/03/quando-eu-te-vi-pela-primeira-vez-acho.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-2770688059961820407</id><published>2010-03-08T10:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-08T10:10:52.804-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Live up and &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#990000;"&gt;don't you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; give up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Don't you &lt;strong&gt;give up&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446326784004168034" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S5U9WqtDmWI/AAAAAAAABQc/PjJaCeQy4BU/s320/nao_desista.jpg" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Não desista.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-2770688059961820407?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2770688059961820407/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=2770688059961820407&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2770688059961820407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2770688059961820407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/03/live-up-and-dont-you-give-up.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S5U9WqtDmWI/AAAAAAAABQc/PjJaCeQy4BU/s72-c/nao_desista.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-3254198441042244480</id><published>2010-03-03T23:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-03T23:16:39.675-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Quatro &lt;strong&gt;longos meses&lt;/strong&gt; sem você&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt; meu herói.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E todo &lt;strong&gt;mês&lt;/strong&gt; é assim que me sinto cada vez mais, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;''dolorida''&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444673976247886514" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S49eImARorI/AAAAAAAABQU/T9inw_nwcrU/s320/fathers-day-canada.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pra sempre tua menina, &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;pai.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-3254198441042244480?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/3254198441042244480/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=3254198441042244480&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/3254198441042244480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/3254198441042244480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/03/quatro-longos-meses-sem-voce-meu-heroi.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S49eImARorI/AAAAAAAABQU/T9inw_nwcrU/s72-c/fathers-day-canada.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-3758589967748895608</id><published>2010-03-02T18:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-02T18:48:45.902-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"Há quem diga que todas as &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;noites&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; são de sonhos. Más há também quem &lt;strong&gt;garanta&lt;/strong&gt; que nem todas, só as de verão. No fundo, isso não tem &lt;strong&gt;importância&lt;/strong&gt;. O que interessa mesmo não é a noite em si, são os sonhos. &lt;strong&gt;Sonhos&lt;/strong&gt; que o homem sonha sempre, em todos os &lt;strong&gt;lugares&lt;/strong&gt;, em todas as &lt;strong&gt;épocas&lt;/strong&gt; do ano, dormindo ou acordado." (William Shakespeare)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-3758589967748895608?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/3758589967748895608/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=3758589967748895608&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/3758589967748895608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/3758589967748895608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/03/ha-quem-diga-que-todas-as-noites-sao-de.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-1159703426490022132</id><published>2010-02-24T23:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-24T23:31:09.397-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Não ver você, não tem &lt;strong&gt;explicação&lt;/strong&gt; é caminhar pela &lt;strong&gt;escuridão&lt;/strong&gt;, ficar a fim e não poder falar &lt;strong&gt;querer&lt;/strong&gt; o sim e não se acostumar com a solidão, o medo de amar, estranho vazio no seu &lt;strong&gt;olhar&lt;/strong&gt;, eu tento achar em algum lugar o &lt;strong&gt;amor&lt;/strong&gt; que você deixou pra trás.&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; s2&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-1159703426490022132?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/1159703426490022132/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=1159703426490022132&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/1159703426490022132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/1159703426490022132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/02/nao-ver-voce-nao-tem-explicacao-e.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-3015520429653771325</id><published>2010-02-22T09:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-22T09:02:55.789-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Preciso da &lt;strong&gt;parte de mim&lt;/strong&gt; que não está em mim, mas &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;guardada em você&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; que eu não conheço.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uma &lt;strong&gt;saudade &lt;/strong&gt;assim, irremediável.&lt;br /&gt;é o que eu sinto &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;todos os dias,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; durante&lt;strong&gt; todas as noites.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-3015520429653771325?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/3015520429653771325/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=3015520429653771325&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/3015520429653771325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/3015520429653771325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/02/preciso-da-parte-de-mim-que-nao-esta-em.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-651417434266774016</id><published>2010-02-14T00:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-14T00:39:41.672-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Seja como for, continuo &lt;strong&gt;gostando muito de você&lt;/strong&gt; - da mesma forma -, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;você está quase&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; sempre &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;perto de mim,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; quase sempre presente em&lt;strong&gt; memórias,&lt;/strong&gt; lembranças, estórias que conto às vezes, &lt;strong&gt;saudade.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Seja como for, se voltar, eu te cuido, sempre vou cuidar.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-651417434266774016?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/651417434266774016/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=651417434266774016&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/651417434266774016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/651417434266774016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/02/seja-como-for-continuo-gostando-muito.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-8270164924849739967</id><published>2010-02-05T19:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T19:31:02.213-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Preciso de &lt;strong&gt;alguém &lt;/strong&gt;que tenha ouvidos para ouvir, porque são tantas &lt;strong&gt;histórias a contar&lt;/strong&gt;. Que tenha boca para falar, porque são tantas histórias para ouvir, meu amor. E um grande silêncio desnecessário de palavras. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Para ficar ao lado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, cúmplice, dividindo o astral, o ritmo, a over, a libido, a percepção da terra, do ar, do fogo, da água, nesta saudável vontade insana de viver. &lt;strong&gt;Preciso de alguém&lt;/strong&gt; que eu possa &lt;strong&gt;estender a mão&lt;/strong&gt; devagar sobre a mesa para &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;tocar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; a mão quente do outro lado e sentir uma resposta como - &lt;strong&gt;eu estou aqui&lt;/strong&gt;, eu te toco também. Sou o &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;bicho humano&lt;/span&gt; que habita a concha ao lado da concha que você habita, e da qual te salvo, meu amor, apenas porque te estendo a &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;minha mão.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Fica comigo&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ao meu lado? &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-8270164924849739967?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/8270164924849739967/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=8270164924849739967&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/8270164924849739967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/8270164924849739967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/02/preciso-de-alguem-que-tenha-ouvidos.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-599903186956080047</id><published>2010-02-05T08:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T08:23:02.915-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Dormi&lt;/span&gt; hoje&lt;/strong&gt;, bem mais protegida, com um &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;anjo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; ao meu lado. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-599903186956080047?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/599903186956080047/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=599903186956080047&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/599903186956080047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/599903186956080047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/02/dormi-hoje-bem-mais-protegida-com-um.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-2534444449413652407</id><published>2010-01-31T22:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-31T22:44:41.716-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S2Z3i_zsLJI/AAAAAAAABQM/iJ6F8vWG_rI/s1600-h/olhares+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 318px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433161443596577938" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S2Z3i_zsLJI/AAAAAAAABQM/iJ6F8vWG_rI/s320/olhares+1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;O que é um &lt;strong&gt;beijo&lt;/strong&gt; se eu posso ter o teu &lt;strong&gt;olhar?&lt;/strong&gt; - pergunto-me sem parar. E você está &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#990000;"&gt;tão longe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; e ao mesmo &lt;strong&gt;tempo tão perto&lt;/strong&gt;, tão &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;dentro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, tão &lt;strong&gt;impregnada em mim&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Às vezes sinto teu cheiro só de lembrar em você, e tudo que eu sei fazer é ficar aqui eternamente apaixonada, eu me pego pensando muitas vezes e sinto vontade de te tirar de mim, assim como você fez comigo, esquecer, continuar, e fiz isso até agora, mais o maior erro é tentar tirar da cabeça o que fica no coração, infelizmente não consigo, não consegui. E eu que acreditei tanto, hoje fica difícil acreditar no resto, seja o que for, as pessoas passaram a ser intrusas na minha vida. Mas as coisas são porque têm que ser, não adianta nada a gente querer que sejam de outro jeito. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;Feliz ou não, a vida continua. Ou não né.&lt;/em&gt; )&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Por : Amanda Penha&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-2534444449413652407?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2534444449413652407/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=2534444449413652407&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2534444449413652407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2534444449413652407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/01/o-que-e-um-beijo-se-eu-posso-ter-o-teu.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S2Z3i_zsLJI/AAAAAAAABQM/iJ6F8vWG_rI/s72-c/olhares+1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-2579481827391013403</id><published>2010-01-27T20:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-27T21:37:07.344-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;No estés lejos de mí un solo día, porque cómo, porque, no sé decirlo, es&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt; largo el día,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; y te &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;estaré esperando&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; como en las estaciones cuando en alguna parte se durmieron los trenes. No te vayas por una hora porque entonces en &lt;strong&gt;esa hora se juntan&lt;/strong&gt; las gotas del desvelo y tal vez todo el humo que anda buscando casa venga a matar aún mi corazón perdido. Ay que no se quebrante tu silueta en la arena, ay que no vuelen tus párpados en la ausencia: no te vayas por un minuto, bienamado, porque en ese minuto te habrás ido tan lejos que yo cruzaré toda la tierra preguntando si &lt;strong&gt;volverás&lt;/strong&gt; o si me dejarás &lt;strong&gt;muriendo.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 254px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431660235442122962" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S2EiNLokcNI/AAAAAAAABQE/4iw_LifcN0c/s320/te_extrano_001.jpg" /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Pablo Neruda)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(¡¡¡ Cuanto tiempo sin escribir en español¡¡... Cuanto tiempo olvidándome de una de mis pasiones, cuanto tiempo sin tiempo apenas... Perdoname es qe yo he pasado una semana muy mala, en fin, lo qe más me anima es ocupar mi tiempo en todo lo qe puedo. Me duele tantas cosas, ¡estás aqui en mi mente, todo el dia presente!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ayer, yo no pense en nada. además, he pensado en todo. He pensado en renunciar, hasta pensé en desaparecer, es difícil para alguien ver su sueño caer en pedazos. Sentí una vez en el Tour del adiós. No llore por no la haber podido conocer, y si por no haberla podido ver. Sabes cuándo haces algo por una persona? dedica la mayor parte de su tiempo hacia el amor que sientes por ella, casi siempre soñando cada noche con su sonrisa, pidiéndole a Dios cada día en sus oraciones también para su vida? Sufrí como no deseo a mi peor enemigo y por desgracia, me empecé a sentir este mismo dolor ayer. Pensé que no hubiera peor daño, porque le duele en el alma.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Era más fácil romper mi corazón que me hacen pasar por esto otra vez.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Por: Amanda Penha&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;'' Ya no se &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;encantaram &lt;/span&gt;mis ojos em tu ojos. ''&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-2579481827391013403?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2579481827391013403/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=2579481827391013403&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2579481827391013403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2579481827391013403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/01/no-estes-lejos-de-mi-un-solo-dia-porque.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S2EiNLokcNI/AAAAAAAABQE/4iw_LifcN0c/s72-c/te_extrano_001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-920728317151707824</id><published>2010-01-24T21:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-24T21:59:21.337-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Realmente acredito que certos aprendizados são adquiridos com a idade. Há certos pensamentos que só ocorrem na hora certa devido ao momento certo. Digo isso porque me vejo hoje tão diferente de pouco tempo atrás, há até quem diga que estou completamente mudada. Já andei muito em círculos antes de escolher meu caminho. Devo confessar que tenho tendências a ir sempre pelas estradas mais difíceis, mas é só porque tudo que me é fácil demais perde o valor após um tempo. Sou exigente, possessiva, controladora e impaciente. Entretanto sou composta de boas intenções. Para agradar os que me cercam, muitas vezes, esvaziei minha mente ou meu coração, somente para acompanhar os hábitos, as conversas, os atos. Infelizmente, com isso só deixava de lado minha essência e não me valia de nada. Ainda assim, há pessoas que me interpretam mal, vêem minha boa vontade como fraqueza e minha inocência como carência. Bobagem. Não sou constante e muito menos feita para que pudessem entender. Sou sim, feita para que possam sentir. Sendo justamente isso o que me torna complexa para uns e simples demais para outros.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-920728317151707824?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/920728317151707824/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=920728317151707824&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/920728317151707824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/920728317151707824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/01/realmente-acredito-que-certos.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-8192296958955396193</id><published>2010-01-23T15:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-23T15:07:05.230-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Fizeram a gente &lt;strong&gt;acreditar &lt;/strong&gt;que cada um de nós é a&lt;strong&gt; metade&lt;/strong&gt; de uma laranja, e que a vida só ganha sentido quando encontramos a outra metade.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Não contaram que já nascemos inteiros, que &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;ninguém&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; em nossa vida merece carregar nas costas a responsabilidade de completar o que nos falta: a gente cresce através da &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;gente mesmo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. Se estivermos em &lt;strong&gt;boa companhia&lt;/strong&gt;, é só mais agradável.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-8192296958955396193?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/8192296958955396193/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=8192296958955396193&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/8192296958955396193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/8192296958955396193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/01/fizeram-gente-acreditar-que-cada-um-de.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-6735416174118732038</id><published>2010-01-20T21:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-20T21:57:10.628-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Na margem do rio piedra eu sentei e chorei</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S1fr5m0mcpI/AAAAAAAABPs/WOM3ZGAn-_8/s1600-h/A_IMAG~1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 251px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429067250724663954" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S1fr5m0mcpI/AAAAAAAABPs/WOM3ZGAn-_8/s320/A_IMAG~1.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Na margem do rio &lt;strong&gt;Piedra&lt;/strong&gt; eu sentei e chorei. Conta a lenda que tudo que cai nas águas deste rio - As folhas, os insetos as penas das aves - &lt;strong&gt;se transforma nas pedras&lt;/strong&gt; do seu leito. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ah, quem dera eu pudessa arrancar o coração do meu peito e atirá-lo na correnteza, e então não haveria mais &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;dor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, nem&lt;strong&gt; saudade&lt;/strong&gt;, nem &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;lembranças&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Na margem do rio Piedra eu sentei e chorei. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O frio do inverno&lt;/strong&gt; fez com que eu sentisse as &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;lágrimas no rosto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, e elas se misturaram com as águas&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt; geladas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; que correm &lt;strong&gt;diante de mim.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Em alguma lugar este rio se junta com outro, depois com outro, até que - &lt;strong&gt;distante dos meus olhos&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;e do meu coração&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; - todas estas águas se confundem com o mar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Que as minhas lágrimas corram &lt;strong&gt;assim para bem longe&lt;/strong&gt;, para que meu amor nunca saiba que um dia &lt;strong&gt;chorei por ele.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Que minhas&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt; lágrimas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; corram para bem longe, e então eu esquecerei o rio Piedra, o mosteiro, a igreja nos Pireneus, a bruma, os caminhos que &lt;strong&gt;percorremos juntos.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Eu&lt;strong&gt; esquecerei as estradas&lt;/strong&gt;, as montanhas e os campos de meus sonhos - &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;sonhos que eram&lt;/span&gt; meus, e que eu&lt;strong&gt; não conhecia.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Eu me lembro do &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;meu instante mágico&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, daquele momento em que um "sim" ou um "não" pode mudar toda a nossa existência. Parece ter &lt;strong&gt;acontecido há tanto&lt;/strong&gt; tempo, e - no entanto - faz &lt;strong&gt;apenas uma semana&lt;/strong&gt; que reencontrei &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;meu amado&lt;/span&gt; e o perdi.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nas margens do rio Piedra escrevi esta história. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;As mãos ficavam geladas&lt;/strong&gt;, as pernas entorpecidas pela posição, e eu &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;precisava parar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; a todo instante. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Procure viver. Lembrar é para os mais velhos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; - dizia ele.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Talvez o&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt; amor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; nos faça envelhecer antes da hora, e &lt;strong&gt;nos torna jovens&lt;/strong&gt; quando a juventude passa. Mas como não recordar aqueles momentos? Por isso escrevia, para transformar a tristeza em saudade, a &lt;strong&gt;solidão em lembranças.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Para que, quando acabasse de contar a mim mesma esta história, eu a &lt;strong&gt;pudesse jogar&lt;/strong&gt; no Piedra - assim me dissera a &lt;strong&gt;mulher &lt;/strong&gt;que me acolheu. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Então - lembrando as palavras de uma santa -&lt;strong&gt; as águas poderiam apagar&lt;/strong&gt; o que o fogo escreveu.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#990000;"&gt;Todas as histórias de amor são iguais.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Paulo Coelho (Na margem do rio Piedra eu sentei e chorei )&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Esse livro teve grande importância na minha adolescência, foi o começo de muitas coisas importantes na minha vida e que até hoje ficaram e que resolvi resgatar com alguns trechos.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-6735416174118732038?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/6735416174118732038/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=6735416174118732038&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/6735416174118732038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/6735416174118732038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/01/na-margem-do-rio-piedra-eu-sentei-e.html' title='Na margem do rio piedra eu sentei e chorei'/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S1fr5m0mcpI/AAAAAAAABPs/WOM3ZGAn-_8/s72-c/A_IMAG~1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-6703203195732571877</id><published>2010-01-17T07:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-17T07:20:54.544-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S1MqnPMDA6I/AAAAAAAABPk/wGN5OyUyV2c/s1600-h/TEMPO_PERDIDO.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427728829491905442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 299px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S1MqnPMDA6I/AAAAAAAABPk/wGN5OyUyV2c/s320/TEMPO_PERDIDO.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eu acredito.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Acredito no tempo. O &lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;tempo &lt;/span&gt;é nosso amigo, nosso aliado, não o &lt;strong&gt;inimigo&lt;/strong&gt; que traz as rugas e a morte. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;O tempo é que mostra o que realmente valeu a pena, o tempo nos ensina a esperar, o tempo apaga o&lt;strong&gt; efêmero&lt;/strong&gt; e acaba com a&lt;strong&gt; dúvida.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-6703203195732571877?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/6703203195732571877/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=6703203195732571877&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/6703203195732571877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/6703203195732571877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/01/eu-acredito.html' title='Time'/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S1MqnPMDA6I/AAAAAAAABPk/wGN5OyUyV2c/s72-c/TEMPO_PERDIDO.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-171978425812486051</id><published>2010-01-16T21:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-16T21:43:08.281-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;'' Como é lindo o&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt; sol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Como é linda&lt;/span&gt; a lua&lt;br /&gt;Como é lindo o sol&lt;br /&gt;Seu &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sete Flechas&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; é rei da lua. ''&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-171978425812486051?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/171978425812486051/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=171978425812486051&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/171978425812486051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/171978425812486051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/01/como-e-lindo-o-sol-como-e-linda-lua.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-4529019282112967768</id><published>2010-01-10T23:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T23:23:11.957-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S0rRzRqlv2I/AAAAAAAABPc/drbYWDH7ojw/s1600-h/M_EDUC~1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 283px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425379379966754658" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S0rRzRqlv2I/AAAAAAAABPc/drbYWDH7ojw/s320/M_EDUC~1.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Afastarei todos&lt;/strong&gt; com o gesto mais duro que conseguir e &lt;strong&gt;direi duramente&lt;/strong&gt; para todos que seu amor não me toca nem me comove e que sua precisão de mim, não passa de fome.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;É cansada de palavras suaves, gestos confortáveis, atenção redobrada.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Repito que não há mais nenhum &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;dedo alheio&lt;/span&gt; disposto a entrar na &lt;strong&gt;garganta da gente&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;E nenhuma dura palavra a bater na nossa cara, pois ela voltará três vezes mais forte na sua.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Minha filosofia&lt;/strong&gt; de vida agora é simples: &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;pisa nos outros antes que te pisem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-4529019282112967768?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/4529019282112967768/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=4529019282112967768&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/4529019282112967768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/4529019282112967768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/01/afastarei-todos-com-o-gesto-mais-duro.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S0rRzRqlv2I/AAAAAAAABPc/drbYWDH7ojw/s72-c/M_EDUC~1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-702096183467114820</id><published>2010-01-08T18:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-08T18:28:34.125-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S0fpasuU44I/AAAAAAAABPU/FwxOM1I0Xto/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 234px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424560921082389378" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S0fpasuU44I/AAAAAAAABPU/FwxOM1I0Xto/s320/untitled.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Eu entro nesse barco, é só me pedir. &lt;strong&gt;Nem precisa de jeito certo&lt;/strong&gt;, só dizer e eu vou.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Eu abandono tudo, história, passado, cicatrizes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mudo o visual, deixo o cabelo crescer, começo a comer direito, vou todo dia pra academia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Mas você tem que remar também&lt;/span&gt;. E talvez essa viagem não dure mais do que alguns minutos, mas eu entro nesse barco, é só me pedir. Perco o medo de dirigir só pra atravessar o mundo pra te ver todo dia. Mas você tem que me prometer que vai remar &lt;strong&gt;junto comigo&lt;/strong&gt;. Mesmo se esse &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;barco estiver furado eu vou&lt;/span&gt;, basta me pedir. &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Mas a gente tem que afundar junto&lt;/span&gt; e descobrir que é possível nadar junto. Eu te ensino a nadar, juro! Mas você tem que me prometer que vai tentar, que vai se esforçar, que vai remar enquanto for preciso, enquanto tiver forças! Você tem que me prometer que essa viagem não vai ser a toa, que vale a pena. Que por você vale a pena. &lt;strong&gt;Que por nós vale a pena&lt;/strong&gt;. Remar.Re-amar. Amar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Caio Fernando de Abreu)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;(É meu barco tá furado, mais não vou cansar de remar, deve haver um porto não? Se eu não afundar antes, tudo bem, eu chego lá.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-702096183467114820?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/702096183467114820/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=702096183467114820&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/702096183467114820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/702096183467114820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/01/eu-entro-nesse-barco-e-so-me-pedir.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S0fpasuU44I/AAAAAAAABPU/FwxOM1I0Xto/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-5989045308132772424</id><published>2010-01-06T20:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-06T21:15:08.120-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Eu tenho tudo &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;neste mundo&lt;/span&gt; de nada.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423861928089451474" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S0Vtr86Je9I/AAAAAAAABPM/nhj7w-TXA1w/s320/1716437.jpg" /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Busco o que todos &lt;/em&gt;buscam&lt;em&gt;, mesmo sem saber direito, algo que é alcançavel.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Porém algo que está no fim de uma estrada tortuosa, perigosa.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Busco, óbvio, a felicidade.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Às vezes a gente erra o caminho, pisa em falso, cambaleia, cai, se engana, se veste de fantasias, se ilude, mais as oportunidades não faltam, os caminhos estão lá, só basta encontrá-los.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Eu vivo encontrando a felicidade, por breves minutos e algumas horas, adormecida, dentro dos sonhos. É tudo tão mágico, simples, leve, só basta fechar os olhos. E quando despertamos estamos de volta ao mundo de nada, ao mundo dos fracos que se julgam fortes, ao mundo dos fortes que se fazem de fracos. Ao mundo dos corações despedaçados, ao mundo sem cor, vista em preto e branco, onde colorir é tão difícil e complicado que preferimos viver assim, igual a um cinema mudo.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;E tudo que queremos é buscar a felicidade, muitas vezes ela está ai ao lado, nem paramos pra olhar, ela está em toda a parte, é como o som que se projeta e se propaga alcançando léguas, é como o vento que sopra e faz as flores dançarem, é no sol que brilha e aquece o dia, é na lua que ilumina a noite dos olhares perdidos, é no vagalume que pisca e ilumina a gruta onde o sol jamais penetra. Nesse mundo de nada, tenho tudo.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Amanda Penha)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-5989045308132772424?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/5989045308132772424/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=5989045308132772424&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/5989045308132772424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/5989045308132772424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/01/eu-tenho-tudo-neste-mundo-de-nada.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S0Vtr86Je9I/AAAAAAAABPM/nhj7w-TXA1w/s72-c/1716437.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-3010598207292250968</id><published>2010-01-05T18:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-05T18:36:48.286-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Eu estou com uma &lt;strong&gt;vontade&lt;/strong&gt; de ser feliz, e estou sendo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Cansei de viver a vida arrastada, já era tempo de mudanças, cansei de ser tocada no coração com dedos frios, quero ter os velhos brilhos nos olhos, e a vontade de sorrir, e estou tendo, quero ter o sabor do verbo viver nos cantos da boca, e no que depender de mim, me recuso a ser infeliz.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-3010598207292250968?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/3010598207292250968/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=3010598207292250968&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/3010598207292250968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/3010598207292250968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/01/eu-estou-com-uma-vontade-de-ser-feliz-e.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-4012930942715365920</id><published>2010-01-04T12:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-04T12:38:42.177-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Olhos Verdes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S0JRpVoiqVI/AAAAAAAABPE/F5O3CA0FzIM/s1600-h/mo%25C3%25A7o-triste-olhos-com-l%25C3%25A1grimass.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422986671931173202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 255px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S0JRpVoiqVI/AAAAAAAABPE/F5O3CA0FzIM/s320/mo%25C3%25A7o-triste-olhos-com-l%25C3%25A1grimass.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dos tristes olhos verdes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Fez-se um brilho reluzente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Não era um brilho contente&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Era um olho doente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No peito um coração valente&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Por trás um homem demente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Trás na alma eminente&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;A perda de um parente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh tristes olhos verdes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Não chores de dor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As lágrimas mentem&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Tudo que chamamos de amor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Amanda Penha)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-4012930942715365920?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/4012930942715365920/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=4012930942715365920&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/4012930942715365920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/4012930942715365920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/01/olhos-verdes.html' title='Olhos Verdes'/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S0JRpVoiqVI/AAAAAAAABPE/F5O3CA0FzIM/s72-c/mo%25C3%25A7o-triste-olhos-com-l%25C3%25A1grimass.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-6051374213600081735</id><published>2010-01-01T17:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T18:03:56.651-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Ano novo, caminhos novos, sonhos novos, esperanças novas.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mas a saudade é antiga, e o aperto no coração também.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Começo o ano renovada, banhada pelas águas do mar e protegida pela mãe yemanjá.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Começo o ano também com muitas saudades, sentindo falta de muita coisa.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me sentindo mais protegida, e mais guiada.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Com caminhos a percorrer e muitas flores pra plantar.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-6051374213600081735?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/6051374213600081735/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=6051374213600081735&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/6051374213600081735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/6051374213600081735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2010/01/ano-novo-caminhos-novos-sonhos-novos.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-5895715009479120940</id><published>2009-12-21T18:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-21T18:58:41.619-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Há um pai que é um ser da &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;eternidade,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; aquele cujo &lt;strong&gt;coração&lt;/strong&gt; caminha por caminhos fora do seu corpo. Pulsa secretamente no corpo do filho, caminha clandestinamente no corpo do filho. Os braços do pai terão de se abrir para que o ninho fique maior e serão os olhos do pai no espaço que seus &lt;strong&gt;braços&lt;/strong&gt; já não podem conter que irão marcar os limites do ninho. A criança se sente segura se de longe ela ver que os &lt;strong&gt;olhos do pai&lt;/strong&gt; a protegem, olhos também&lt;strong&gt; são colos&lt;/strong&gt;, também são ninhos.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bom começando por aqui, não terei natal esse ano, mais o pouco que me sobra tenho certeza que será bom, pelo menos em algo, e que estarei protegida por você meu pai, e que nessa estrada da minha vida, você vai me conduzir muito bem dai de cima. Não tenho nada a reclamar desse ano, todas as pessoas que fizeram parte dele, continuaram vivas em mim, algumas eu jamais poderei apagar, outras eu simplesmente deixo passar, apesar de algumas perdas que pra mim é como um coração esfarelado, eu estarei forte, com meus passos mais firmes. E para aquelas pessoas que eu tanto amo do fundo do meu coração e que forão muito além na minha vida, me desculpem mais eu jamais posso deixar de amar vocês.&lt;br /&gt;Aos meus poucos amigos, eu os amo demais, vocês são uma parte de mim inseparável.&lt;br /&gt;Pois esse natal eu sou só uma matéria com a alma ferida.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-5895715009479120940?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/5895715009479120940/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=5895715009479120940&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/5895715009479120940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/5895715009479120940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/12/ha-um-pai-que-e-um-ser-da-eternidade.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-7951901330755196659</id><published>2009-12-20T11:15:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-20T11:19:57.893-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Apenas sonhos</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;Sonho &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;um sonho&lt;/span&gt; muito vivo, colorido, sonho por exemplo que estou no meio de um gramado, de manhã bem cedo, um ar tão limpo que os pulmões chegam a doer um pouco quando você respira, há flores amarelas no meio do gramado verde, e brilham, eu respiro e respiro mais fundo e sei que bem perto dali existe uma cachoeira, minha flor das montanhas, posso ouvir o ruído das águas caindo, caminho em direção à cachoeira, deixo aquele jato de água fria limpa clara bater bem no alto da cabeça, o lótus em mil pétalas abertas abrindo, passa uma &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;borboleta azul&lt;/span&gt;, bons presságios: eu penso, eu acredito, a água gelada continua batendo na cabeça, escorre pelo corpo todo, e vou entrando, o &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;sonho é meu&lt;/span&gt;, numa espécie de êxtase, satori, nirvana, eu acredito, eu sigo acreditando, outra vez eu acredito, embaixo da cachoeira, eu não paro um segundo de acreditar porque tudo é vivo vibra brilha, meu corpo não se separa da água nem da pedra nem do céu que vejo entre as folhas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Caio Fernando Abreu)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Às vezes me vejo presa em sonhos que se repetem)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-7951901330755196659?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/7951901330755196659/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=7951901330755196659&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/7951901330755196659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/7951901330755196659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/12/sonho-um-sonho-muito-vivo-colorido.html' title='Apenas sonhos'/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-6684878048609205782</id><published>2009-12-19T15:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-19T15:33:38.831-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Vou gritar aqui pra todo mundo ler:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt; N&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;u&lt;/span&gt;nca te esq&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;u&lt;/span&gt;eci.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-6684878048609205782?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/6684878048609205782/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=6684878048609205782&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/6684878048609205782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/6684878048609205782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/12/vou-gritar-aqui-pra-todo-mundo-ler-n-u.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-1465454779201228888</id><published>2009-12-17T07:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T07:10:40.773-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;¨E esse sonho que se estende em rua, em rua em rua em vão¨&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ontem&lt;/strong&gt; chorei&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;strong&gt; por valores não dados&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;strong&gt;Por erros cometidos. Acertos não comemorados&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt; Palavras dissipadas.Versos brancos&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;strong&gt; Chorei pela guerra cotidiana. Pelas tentativas de sobrevivência.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Pelos apelos de paz não atendidos. Pelo amor derramado.&lt;/span&gt; Pelo amor ofendido e aprisionado. Pelo amor perdido. Pelo respeito empoeirado em cima da estante&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pelo carinho esquecido junto das cartas envelhecidas no guarda- roupa.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pelos&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;sonhos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;desafinados, estremecidos&lt;/span&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;e adiados&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Por tudo que foi e voou.&lt;/span&gt; E não volta mais, pois que hoje é já outro dia&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Chorei.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Apronto agora os meus pés na estrada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;. Ponho-me a caminhar&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;sob sol e vento&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Vou ali ser feliz e já volto. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-1465454779201228888?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/1465454779201228888/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=1465454779201228888&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/1465454779201228888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/1465454779201228888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/12/e-esse-sonho-que-se-estende-em-rua-em.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-7266996933788463551</id><published>2009-12-13T15:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-13T15:42:53.511-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;" Uma parte que &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;precisa&lt;/span&gt; de calor,&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt; carinho&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;strong&gt;pés com pés&lt;/strong&gt;."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 257px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414869068027236098" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SyV6umkDjwI/AAAAAAAABOw/vs5g-7bLEW8/s320/pes.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Porque eu amo ficar assim, pés com pés, mãos com mãos, onde deixo meus dedos escorregarem a fazerem carinho em seus cabelos. Continue especial assim, como você é pra mim.)&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt; ♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-7266996933788463551?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/7266996933788463551/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=7266996933788463551&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/7266996933788463551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/7266996933788463551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/12/uma-parte-que-precisa-de-calor-carinho.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SyV6umkDjwI/AAAAAAAABOw/vs5g-7bLEW8/s72-c/pes.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-4596658046060312112</id><published>2009-12-09T20:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-09T20:06:26.579-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Me deixe &lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;cuidar&lt;/span&gt; de você&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SyBy818kXJI/AAAAAAAABOI/gIUWzPAdm-Q/s1600-h/NO_SEI~1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413453141698174098" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SyBy818kXJI/AAAAAAAABOI/gIUWzPAdm-Q/s320/NO_SEI~1.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Ela é tudo para mim, o sonho não correspondido, uma canção que ninguém canta.&lt;br /&gt;O inalcançável.&lt;br /&gt;Ela é um mito que eu tenho que acreditar, tudo que necessito para fazê-la real é mais uma razão.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-4596658046060312112?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/4596658046060312112/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=4596658046060312112&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/4596658046060312112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/4596658046060312112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/12/me-deixe-cuidar-de-voce.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SyBy818kXJI/AAAAAAAABOI/gIUWzPAdm-Q/s72-c/NO_SEI~1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-7495158863590906310</id><published>2009-12-08T21:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-08T21:22:36.105-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;" Quando você sente &lt;strong&gt;saudade&lt;/strong&gt; demais de uma pessoa, então começa a&lt;strong&gt; vê-la nas out&lt;/strong&gt;ras, em &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;todos os lugares&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, de costas, por um jeito de andar, de &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;sorrir&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; ou virar a cabeça de lado."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;[Hoje eu queria que o dia terminasse bem, e terminou. Acreditas realmente que consegue mexer dentro de mim? Só me deixa cuidar de você.]&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-7495158863590906310?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/7495158863590906310/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=7495158863590906310&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/7495158863590906310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/7495158863590906310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/12/quando-voce-sente-saudade-demais-de-uma.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-1067743799279559410</id><published>2009-12-04T20:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-04T21:04:56.710-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Parece-me&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;agora&lt;/span&gt;, tanto &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;tempo&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;depois, que as &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;partidas-dolorosas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, as &lt;em&gt;amargas-separações&lt;/em&gt;, as &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;perdas-irreparáveis&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; costumam lavrar assim o&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt; rosto&lt;/span&gt; dos que ficam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 235px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411613497646634658" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/Sxnpzdzv1qI/AAAAAAAABNU/doxr9us_Ci0/s320/1200994073_f.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Continuando acordando todas as manhãs, sem ti.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-1067743799279559410?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/1067743799279559410/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=1067743799279559410&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/1067743799279559410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/1067743799279559410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/12/parece-me-agora-tanto-tempo-depois-que.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/Sxnpzdzv1qI/AAAAAAAABNU/doxr9us_Ci0/s72-c/1200994073_f.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-528140924960297722</id><published>2009-12-01T16:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-01T17:21:44.472-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Pai, &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;abrace&lt;/span&gt; as minhas &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;lembranças&lt;/span&gt; e todo o meu &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;amor&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Não suporto essa dor, sinto-me triste só de imaginar, não mais sentirei o teu cheiro.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Você sabe que foi sempre o meu primeiro amor.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Já que é pra se abrir, bem vamos lá...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Meu Deus&lt;/span&gt; como está sendo difícil pra mim, toda essa ausência, às vezes fico em pé no portão às sextas feiras te esperando chegar de Bauru, e você nunca vem.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Está sendo difícil recomeçar tudo sem você.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sinto saudades das suas palavras ''magrela'', de quando numa brincadeira me abraçava forte demais e eu ficava brava com você.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sinto saudades das suas broncas e suas esperas no meio da madrugada, sentado lá fora.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fiz tantos planos, lembro de você falando que ia entrar comigo na minha formatura e seria o pai mais lindo de todos os outros, é meu pai e hoje estou me formando, sem sua presença.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;E hoje, agora todo mundo acha que sou insensível, mais ninguém suspeita que eu estou morta.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;De repente parece que todos que estavam ao meu lado sumiram, de verdade me sinto sozinha, sem apoio de nenhum amigo, e é verdade não escondo de ninguém que tenho uma carência exagerada, nunca funcionei sem um empurrão daqueles. De dia eu sou a pessoa mais forte que existe, carrego todas as dores da família nas costas, e de noite eu não sou nada, sinto vontade de me trancar no quarto e chorar, as vezes me despisto ligando para as pessoas que gosto, acho que chego até a incomodar, não levem a mal, mais eu sinto a necessidade disso, senão eu acho que paro de viver de verdade. Me desculpem por chegar a ser pegajosa, às vezes um pouco inconveniente, eu estou só procurando um lugar pra me proteger, e todas as noites uma após a outra é tudo igual, uma angústia, uma dor enorme.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sei lá, sinto vergonha de me mostrar fraca, pois meu pai sempre me viu forte, guerreira.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Passa todo um filme na minha cabeça, e sempre me vem sua imagem no hospital, e meu ultimo beijo na sua testa, se lembra pai? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Espero ansiosa pelo dia que eu vou te ter ao meu lado de novo.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Te amo&lt;/strong&gt; demais.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-528140924960297722?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/528140924960297722/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=528140924960297722&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/528140924960297722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/528140924960297722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/12/pai-abrace-as-minhas-lembrancas-e-todo.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-6372680585482574634</id><published>2009-12-01T15:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-01T15:04:44.608-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;'' Ja avisei todo ser da&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt; noite&lt;/span&gt;, que eu vou&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt; cuidar&lt;/span&gt; de você.''&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-6372680585482574634?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/6372680585482574634/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=6372680585482574634&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/6372680585482574634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/6372680585482574634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/12/ja-avisei-todo-ser-da-noite-que-eu-vou.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-1787394082824350861</id><published>2009-11-28T13:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-28T14:14:04.248-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Passo &lt;strong&gt;sábados&lt;/strong&gt; sem mover músculos algum, porém dentro da minha cabeça, turbilhões de pensamentos e lembranças &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;me ferem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. Toda minha vida eu tive&lt;strong&gt; medo&lt;/strong&gt;, se enganou quem achava que medo era uma &lt;strong&gt;pequena vírgula na minha vida&lt;/strong&gt;. Dedico todo meu sábado a ler, senão o livro da &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;minha vida,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; pequenos fragmentos que dão forma palavras à frases da minha existência. Cada vez vou descobrindo um pedaçinho do meu eu, cada &lt;strong&gt;lágrima derramada&lt;/strong&gt;, até os poucos &lt;strong&gt;sorrisos demonstrados,&lt;/strong&gt; daqueles bem tímidos, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;sem cor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; que esboçam pequeninas formas em meu rosto. Todo sábado sonho com um trem, que chega na estação trazendo arrastado pelos trilhos meus sonhos, sonhos que passaram de estação em estação e com o trem prossegue para a próxima, assim, sujos &lt;strong&gt;aos farrapos&lt;/strong&gt; em preto e branco. &lt;div&gt;E todo &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;sábado penso&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; que vai ser um igual ao outro, lembranças que assombram, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;sonhos envelhecidos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; e &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;esperanças apagadas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, como um dedo que apaga a vela. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;E todo sábado quero fechar os olhos, e pensar que o &lt;strong&gt;amanhã&lt;/strong&gt; tudo ficará bem.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409281138238709522" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SxGgiR7wXxI/AAAAAAAABNE/YEGw624zkLY/s320/31bb10ea9e94359c.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Por: Amanda Penha&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-1787394082824350861?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/1787394082824350861/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=1787394082824350861&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/1787394082824350861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/1787394082824350861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/11/passo-sabados-sem-mover-musculos-algum.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SxGgiR7wXxI/AAAAAAAABNE/YEGw624zkLY/s72-c/31bb10ea9e94359c.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-361956451648279887</id><published>2009-11-28T10:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-28T10:19:56.571-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;" Portanto a idade que tenho agora, ou que tinha naquele sábado, deveria ser exatamente o dobro a idade contada a partir daquela perda. E de alguma forma, por ser justamente naquele sábado de &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;chuva&lt;/span&gt;, em&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt; novembro&lt;/span&gt;, na tarde, essa &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;perda&lt;/span&gt; — ou &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;partida&lt;/span&gt;, ou &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;ausência&lt;/span&gt;, ou &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;separação&lt;/span&gt;, ou como queiram chamá-la..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(Caio F. de Abreu)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-361956451648279887?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/361956451648279887/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=361956451648279887&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/361956451648279887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/361956451648279887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/11/portanto-idade-que-tenho-agora-ou-que.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-626482093917655762</id><published>2009-11-21T16:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-21T17:23:38.456-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;" Meu &lt;strong&gt;coração &lt;/strong&gt;vai batendo devagar como uma &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;borboleta suja&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; sobre este jardim de trapos esgarçados em cujas &lt;strong&gt;malhas se prendem&lt;/strong&gt; e se perdem os restos coloridos da vida que se leva. Vida?&lt;strong&gt; Bem,&lt;/strong&gt; seja lá o que for isto que temos..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 308px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406732382065548930" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SwiSdJSeXoI/AAAAAAAABM8/mEs8-WdUnL8/s320/196575.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;[Hoje, decidi que quero cuidar de você, te ligar as 5 da manhã e te chamar pra ir comigo ver o sol nascer, querer estar sempre presente e ir de encontro aos seus olhares, quero te abraçar e te sentir mais perto e dizer que estou tentando, que quero te incluir no meu futuro, seguir seus passos... Quero sobreviver a cada manhã, a cada noite poder olhar as estrelas sentada ao seu lado e dizer: Amor faz um pedido!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hoje vejo tudo que no passado construi pra não desmoronar, e desmoronou, e penso que ao seu lado quero o concreto mais firme, a confiança mais segura, a paixão mais intensa, e o amor a gente vai construindo aos poucos, devagarzinho, sem pressa, pincelando cor a cor meu coração vazio.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hoje decidi que quero sobretudo cuidar de você.]&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Por: Amanda Penha&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-626482093917655762?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/626482093917655762/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=626482093917655762&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/626482093917655762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/626482093917655762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/11/meu-coracao-vai-batendo-devagar-como.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SwiSdJSeXoI/AAAAAAAABM8/mEs8-WdUnL8/s72-c/196575.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-5496317155803297499</id><published>2009-11-18T13:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-18T18:44:40.904-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;É arriscar tudo por um sonho&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SwRumUXV9cI/AAAAAAAABMs/0gnN-pnX8IU/s1600/olheiras.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405567057332139458" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SwRumUXV9cI/AAAAAAAABMs/0gnN-pnX8IU/s320/olheiras.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por que estou aqui? Por que não estou na cama, como todo &lt;strong&gt;mundo&lt;/strong&gt;? Por que faço isso todo dia? Pra que tanto &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;treino&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, tanto &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;cansaco&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, tanta &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;dor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;? Quer saber? Porque é assim que me sinto viva. Porque sei que depois daqui estou preparada para tudo, e arriscar tudo por um &lt;strong&gt;sonho&lt;/strong&gt;, que ninguém enxerga, só você.&lt;br /&gt;Agora ainda está escuro, &lt;strong&gt;tudo&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;em&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;silêncio&lt;/strong&gt;. E eu já estou pronta para a próxima jornada. Não venho &lt;strong&gt;desafiar&lt;/strong&gt; ninguém, só a mim mesma, ser hoje &lt;strong&gt;&lt;img class="gl_bold" border="0" alt="Negrito" src="http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif" /&gt;melhor&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;que&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;ontem&lt;/strong&gt;, e todo dia, no final do treino, mesmo tendo vencido, sei que &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;amanhã&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; vou querer ser melhor do que fui hoje.&lt;br /&gt;Pessoas normais são felizes com suas vidas normais, eu era &lt;strong&gt;diferente&lt;/strong&gt;, quero sempre mais, viver ao &lt;strong&gt;limite&lt;/strong&gt; de tudo que eu posso &lt;strong&gt;suportar&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-5496317155803297499?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/5496317155803297499/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=5496317155803297499&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/5496317155803297499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/5496317155803297499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/11/e-arriscar-tudo-por-um-sonho.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SwRumUXV9cI/AAAAAAAABMs/0gnN-pnX8IU/s72-c/olheiras.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-5613703001218064680</id><published>2009-11-17T17:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-17T17:56:06.027-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; '' &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Vem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; para que eu &lt;strong&gt;possa&lt;/strong&gt; recuperar &lt;strong&gt;sorrisos&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; ''&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 306px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405255799280976946" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SwNTgtxDRDI/AAAAAAAABMk/WMiuNg2XX40/s320/concha4.jpg" /&gt;[É hoje &lt;strong&gt;pequenos&lt;/strong&gt; pensamentos abriram as feridas que eu &lt;strong&gt;julgava&lt;/strong&gt; fechada. Vida dura, de não poder dizer: Me deixa &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;cuidar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; de você e vamos nos cuidar juntos.&lt;br /&gt;Dificil é &lt;strong&gt;olhar&lt;/strong&gt; tudo que vivemos e saber que hoje &lt;strong&gt;sentimentos&lt;/strong&gt; vem e vão parecendo &lt;strong&gt;golpes&lt;/strong&gt; no meu rosto. Sinto-me vivendo de ilusões &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;todos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; os &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;dias&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, e eu só queria a realidade que um dia tive ao seu &lt;strong&gt;lado&lt;/strong&gt;.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Por: Amanda Penha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-5613703001218064680?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/5613703001218064680/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=5613703001218064680&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/5613703001218064680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/5613703001218064680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/11/vem-para-que-eu-possa-recuperar.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SwNTgtxDRDI/AAAAAAAABMk/WMiuNg2XX40/s72-c/concha4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-7697165466730495409</id><published>2009-11-12T18:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-12T18:59:00.026-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tenho um buraco aberto no lugar do coração.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;Hoje faz 9 dias que me &lt;strong&gt;abandonastes&lt;/strong&gt;, tu que &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;sempre&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; pensei que viverias para sempre.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Na fortaleza do olhar, na &lt;strong&gt;brandura&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;do&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;sorriso&lt;/strong&gt;, na sapiência dos imensos anos que perdi a conta.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Quando partiste, não me despedi de ti. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Dentro de mim continuas com teus &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;olhos&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;cinzentos esverdiados a baloiçarem minha infância feliz, ninguém me conheceu tão profundamente como você, todos os medos, todos os sonhos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Precisei tanto de ti nesses 9 dias meu pai...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;E sempre que lembrei de ti senti teu abraço protetor.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;[&lt;strong&gt;Dentro de mim&lt;/strong&gt; faz 9 dias que partiste em viagem. Num mundo que &lt;strong&gt;só tu conheces&lt;/strong&gt;, num mundo que só comigo partilhastes. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Um dia desses chegarás&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; com a mala carregada de histórias com final feliz, que recordaremos nas nossas imensas noites de insônia. Eu te amo.]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 230px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403416285710522274" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SvzKe7tWF6I/AAAAAAAABMc/oOI5Dw4vl98/s320/untitled.bmp" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;[Num dia desses encostarei de novo minha testa na sua.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-7697165466730495409?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/7697165466730495409/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=7697165466730495409&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/7697165466730495409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/7697165466730495409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/11/tenho-um-buraco-aberto-no-lugar-do.html' title='Tenho um buraco aberto no lugar do coração.'/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SvzKe7tWF6I/AAAAAAAABMc/oOI5Dw4vl98/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-2160292457868632594</id><published>2009-11-10T04:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-10T04:37:34.607-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>''Quando me encontrou eu estava &lt;strong&gt;sozinho&lt;/strong&gt;, igual a estrela do mar, você me alcançou.&lt;br /&gt;Quero &lt;strong&gt;seguir com você&lt;/strong&gt; por perto, quero estar com você por perto, pra &lt;strong&gt;sempre caminhar&lt;/strong&gt; com você por perto.&lt;br /&gt;O bom é ver quem você gosta bem estamos no mesmo barco, &lt;strong&gt;quero que você esteja bem&lt;/strong&gt;, que eu possa estar &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;sempre&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; ao teu lado.''&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402451827762576562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 232px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SvldUF3yvLI/AAAAAAAABMU/5RqZwmZumgY/s320/1147360373.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Agora eu sei exatamente o que fazer, bom &lt;strong&gt;recomeçar &lt;/strong&gt;e poder contar com você.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-2160292457868632594?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2160292457868632594/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=2160292457868632594&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2160292457868632594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2160292457868632594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/11/quando-me-encontrou-eu-estava-sozinho.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SvldUF3yvLI/AAAAAAAABMU/5RqZwmZumgY/s72-c/1147360373.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-7373067932675108336</id><published>2009-11-06T06:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T07:00:27.305-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Nesse meu coração tão cheio de &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;tristeza&lt;/span&gt;, você ocupa o lugar mais bonito.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401004902644981458" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SvQ5V9xMHtI/AAAAAAAABMM/TuA5PB80QkE/s320/m_os_pai_e_filho_jpg%5B1%5D%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sentir sua falta é algo inexplicável... mas tentarei expressar essa saudades, atraves dessas palavras com muita dor.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pai sinto falta de:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;- Sua voz que me aconselhava com ternura&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;- Do seu olhar sereno com doçura&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;- De suas mãos me reerguerem quando caia.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;- De seu abraço que me envolvia&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pai, com sua proteção eu nada temia!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sinto tanta sua falta&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pai daria tudo pra poder novamente.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;- Sua mão segurar&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;- Seus miudos olhos a contemplar&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;- Sua voz ouvir&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;- Ver seu sorriso quando eu te dava uma medalha.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;E ter uma nova chance de dizer eu te amo!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ser mais carinhosa, menos teimosa.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pai não deveria jamais morrer, pois quanto mais se vive é pouco pra dizer eu te amo pai.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-7373067932675108336?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/7373067932675108336/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=7373067932675108336&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/7373067932675108336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/7373067932675108336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/11/nesse-meu-coracao-tao-cheio-de-tristeza.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SvQ5V9xMHtI/AAAAAAAABMM/TuA5PB80QkE/s72-c/m_os_pai_e_filho_jpg%5B1%5D%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-3025284242811233466</id><published>2009-11-01T07:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-01T07:26:34.616-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Hoje o &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;dia&lt;/span&gt; começou assim: como&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt; areia&lt;/span&gt; quente nos pés.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/Su2nhnQgvXI/AAAAAAAABME/Sva0TW4Hh9I/s1600-h/pes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 318px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399155724202851698" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/Su2nhnQgvXI/AAAAAAAABME/Sva0TW4Hh9I/s320/pes.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt; (Sem mais demandas, o dia começou quente e calmo.&lt;/em&gt; Típico domingo tedioso)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-3025284242811233466?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/3025284242811233466/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=3025284242811233466&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/3025284242811233466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/3025284242811233466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/11/hoje-o-dia-comecou-assim-como-areia.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/Su2nhnQgvXI/AAAAAAAABME/Sva0TW4Hh9I/s72-c/pes.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-6551226324132793496</id><published>2009-10-27T06:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-27T06:24:23.299-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;'' Mas o &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;diabinho &lt;/span&gt;gritou forte no meu ouvido direito e o &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;anjo&lt;/span&gt; tosco que dançava do lado esquerdo caiu e quebrou a &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;asa&lt;/span&gt;. ''&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 242px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397269687932539634" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/Sub0L2oz0vI/AAAAAAAABL8/KVK4fs3jq6A/s320/mulher+anjo+asiatica.jpg" /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Algumas vezes temos que dar mais ouvidos ao diabinho do que ao anjinho, chega de ser desvitalizada, cansei de acreditar na justiça e na lei suja dos homens.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Por: Amanda Penha&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-6551226324132793496?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/6551226324132793496/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=6551226324132793496&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/6551226324132793496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/6551226324132793496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/10/mas-o-diabinho-gritou-forte-no-meu.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/Sub0L2oz0vI/AAAAAAAABL8/KVK4fs3jq6A/s72-c/mulher+anjo+asiatica.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-2131568997377860573</id><published>2009-10-24T23:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-24T23:30:59.457-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;" Não é verdade que as &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;pessoas&lt;/span&gt; se repitam. O que se repetem são as situações.''&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A gente procura &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;um amor que dure&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; o mais possível. Procura, procura, talvez tu ache. Para mim é horrível eu aceitar o fato de que eu tô em disponibilidade afetiva. &lt;strong&gt;Esse espaço entre dois&lt;/strong&gt; encontros pode esmagar &lt;strong&gt;completamente&lt;/strong&gt; uma pessoa. Por isso eu acho que a gente se &lt;strong&gt;engana, às vezes.&lt;/strong&gt; Aparece uma pessoa qualquer e então tu vai e inventa uma coisa que na realidade não é. E tu vai &lt;strong&gt;vivendo aquilo&lt;/strong&gt;, porque não aguenta o &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;fato de estar sozinho&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396420113705905602" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SuPvgIA2rcI/AAAAAAAABL0/ITSXwkA-l7M/s320/_DOIS_~1.JPG" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-2131568997377860573?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2131568997377860573/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=2131568997377860573&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2131568997377860573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2131568997377860573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/10/gente-procura-um-amor-que-dure-o-mais.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SuPvgIA2rcI/AAAAAAAABL0/ITSXwkA-l7M/s72-c/_DOIS_~1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-1768122368694550854</id><published>2009-10-22T05:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T05:26:59.693-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>" Não, não &lt;strong&gt;ofereço perigo algum&lt;/strong&gt;: sou quieta como &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;folha de outono esquecida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; entre as páginas de um livro, definida e clara como o jarro com a bacia de ágata no canto do quarto - se tomada com cuidado, verto água límpida &lt;strong&gt;sobre as mãos&lt;/strong&gt; para que se possa refrescar o rosto, mas se &lt;strong&gt;tocada por dedos bruscos&lt;/strong&gt; num segundo &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;me estilhaço em cacos&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, me esfarelo em poeira dourada. Tenho pensado se não guardarei indisfarçáveis &lt;strong&gt;remendos das muitas quedas&lt;/strong&gt;, dos muitos toques, &lt;strong&gt;embora sempre os tenha evitado&lt;/strong&gt; aprendi que minhas delicadezas nem sempre são suficientes para despertar a suavidade alheia, e mesmo assim insisto - meus gestos e &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;palavras são magrinhos como eu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, e tão morenos que, esboçados à sombra, &lt;strong&gt;mal se destacam&lt;/strong&gt; do escuro, quase imperceptível me movo, meus passos são inaudíveis feito pisasse sempre sobre tapetes, impressentida,&lt;strong&gt; mãos tão leves&lt;/strong&gt; que uma carícia minha, se porventura a fizesse, &lt;strong&gt;seria mais&lt;/strong&gt; branda que a brisa da &lt;strong&gt;tardezinha.&lt;/strong&gt; "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Caio F. de Abreu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Quem dera Fosse realmente verdade.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;or: Amanda Penha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-1768122368694550854?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/1768122368694550854/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=1768122368694550854&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/1768122368694550854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/1768122368694550854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/10/nao-nao-ofereco-perigo-algum-sou-quieta.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-7449367608346359056</id><published>2009-10-20T20:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-20T20:45:05.639-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Falava à uns dias atrás que o &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;mundo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; está ao contrário.&lt;br /&gt;E apesar de&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; sentir&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; (tenho limites, enfim) que não posso &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#990000;"&gt;mudar o mundo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, vamos &lt;strong&gt;tentar&lt;/strong&gt; virá-lo do avesso &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;juntos?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sem medos...&lt;br /&gt;A &lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;vida &lt;/span&gt;está a fervilhar de &lt;strong&gt;possibilidades&lt;/strong&gt;, basta talvez ter &lt;strong&gt;a sapiência necessária&lt;/strong&gt; para observarmos &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;numa outra perspectiva&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. Desejar ter asas, mesmo sabendo que &lt;strong&gt;dificilmente &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;voaremos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Por: Amanda Penha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 275px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394893902469261730" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/St6Da8GZ6aI/AAAAAAAABLs/BMyX5766iyw/s320/O_MUND~1.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-7449367608346359056?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/7449367608346359056/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=7449367608346359056&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/7449367608346359056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/7449367608346359056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/10/falava-uns-dias-atras-que-o-mundo-esta.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/St6Da8GZ6aI/AAAAAAAABLs/BMyX5766iyw/s72-c/O_MUND~1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-2109352513300726422</id><published>2009-10-19T10:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T10:35:32.151-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Quero &lt;strong&gt;distância&lt;/strong&gt; de todos para quem o meu sucesso (e &lt;strong&gt;sobretudo&lt;/strong&gt;) o meu &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;sorriso &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;são um notório &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;incomodo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Por: Amanda Penha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-2109352513300726422?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2109352513300726422/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=2109352513300726422&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2109352513300726422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2109352513300726422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/10/quero-distancia-de-todos-para-quem-o.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-5024567284558637180</id><published>2009-10-17T08:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-17T09:24:47.311-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Meu caminho é &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;cada manhã&lt;/span&gt;, não procure saber onde estou, meu destino não é de ninguém, eu não deixo os &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;meus passos&lt;/span&gt; no chão...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/Stnj1GwUo2I/AAAAAAAABLM/JVkm5PI7GU0/s1600-h/3530461697_54c6534642.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393592530238743394" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/Stnj1GwUo2I/AAAAAAAABLM/JVkm5PI7GU0/s320/3530461697_54c6534642.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;'' &lt;strong&gt;Ninguém &lt;/strong&gt;te ensinará os caminhos. Ninguém me &lt;strong&gt;ensinará os caminhos&lt;/strong&gt;. Ninguém nunca me ensinou caminho nenhum, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;nem a você&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, suspeito. Avanço às cegas. Não há &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;caminhos a serem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; ensinados,&lt;strong&gt; nem&lt;/strong&gt; aprendidos. '' &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Caio. F.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;(Felicidade é algo gigantesco que não se mede, agora não tentem medir o tamanho da minha felicidade, porque vocês irão falhar. )&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393605240604016962" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/StnvY8jjQUI/AAAAAAAABLU/bHQMg7Vgd3w/s320/felicidade.jpg" /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Por: Amanda Penha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-5024567284558637180?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/5024567284558637180/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=5024567284558637180&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/5024567284558637180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/5024567284558637180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/10/meu-caminho-e-cada-manha-nao-procure.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/Stnj1GwUo2I/AAAAAAAABLM/JVkm5PI7GU0/s72-c/3530461697_54c6534642.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-5688584799091974625</id><published>2009-10-15T22:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T23:33:40.799-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;'' Vejo as pessoas e sei que&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt; juntos&lt;/span&gt; nós podemos muito mais ''&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 237px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393074686581615986" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/StgM2ozZLXI/AAAAAAAABLE/I051J_LYe28/s320/bb.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; (Sabe o que eu &lt;strong&gt;sinto na verdade&lt;/strong&gt;? eu sinto que nós deixamos a &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;essência virar pó&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, sabe quando você planeja tudo com os mínimos detalhes, sonha com aquilo, se vê dentro daquilo tudo, e depois você pensa que podia ter sido diferente, podia ter dado certo, podia... Sabe quando você tem o &lt;strong&gt;mundo &lt;/strong&gt;diante dos seus olhos, mais enxergava o &lt;strong&gt;mundo nos olhos&lt;/strong&gt; da pessoa, via suas tristezas, sabia de suas alegrias, e eu nem precisava dizer que &lt;strong&gt;eu te amava&lt;/strong&gt;, eu sabia, você sabia, o mundo sabia, e eu tola tentava esconder isso do meu coração, mais parece que ele não se deixava enganar não é?&lt;strong&gt; Eu te dei tanto meu mundo&lt;/strong&gt;, sem esperar nada em troca, eu era feliz por te amar, é difícil te tirar de minhas memórias, você está quase sempre em tudo, em histórias que conto sempre colocando um final feliz no final, em lugares que passo, em fotografias. Agora &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;estou aprendendo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; a seguir a vida sem &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;você ao meu lado&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, é acho que a gente se perdeu, e eu pedi tanto pra isso não acontecer, nossa história virou passado antes de virar futuro, não sei se isso importa, mais te tenho com grande carinho e amor, e &lt;strong&gt;uma coisa sua jamais vai se perder&lt;/strong&gt; de mim, aquele olhar que eu via quando ficava frente a frente com você, seguido depois de um abraço que parecia infinito.&lt;strong&gt; ''Infinito''&lt;/strong&gt;, essa palavra que tanto esteve em nossos vocabulários durante toda nossa história, não acredito mais no infinito, ele deixou de existir a partir do momento que sua mão se perdeu da minha. Infelizmente a vida não é apagável, pensei, nem volta atrás, é um tanto difícil tentar apagá-la, e burrice, até porque eu jamais &lt;strong&gt;apagaria tantas coisas lindas&lt;/strong&gt; que vivi, eu apenas poderia ter feito diferente, tentei, tentamos não é mesmo? Mas que seja bom o que vier, para você, para mim, te desejo uma fé enorme, em qualquer coisa, não importa o quê, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;como aquela fé que a gente teve um dia.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E sigo, vou pegar qualquer estrada, sem medo de olhar pra trás, &lt;strong&gt;sem medo de ter te amado&lt;/strong&gt;, sem medo algum, com um &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;sorriso&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; no rosto e um &lt;strong&gt;brilho no olhar&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Isso era um pequeno sufoco preso no peito e na garganta, jamais tive a intenção de te pertubar, por um tempo insisti, hoje não insisto mais, deixo o vento soprar.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Por: Amanda Penha&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-5688584799091974625?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/5688584799091974625/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=5688584799091974625&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/5688584799091974625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/5688584799091974625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/10/vejo-as-pessoas-e-sei-que-juntos-nos.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/StgM2ozZLXI/AAAAAAAABLE/I051J_LYe28/s72-c/bb.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-5812143228137958982</id><published>2009-10-15T00:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T01:18:41.560-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#666666;"&gt;'' Saudade é &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;nunca&lt;/span&gt; mais querer saber de quem se gosta, e ainda assim, &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;doer&lt;/span&gt;. "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;Saudade é não saber como &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;vencer&lt;/span&gt; a dor de um silêncio que nada preenche. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;A saudade mais dolorida é a saudade de quem se gosta.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 249px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392736593476316562" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/StbZXB1n7ZI/AAAAAAAABK8/9hsdMtjPjE0/s320/theyes.jpg" /&gt;Por que é preciso encontrar no &lt;strong&gt;mundo &lt;/strong&gt;alguns sentimentos &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;limpos para seguir&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, já que esse mesmo mundo anda as avessas... É preciso se &lt;strong&gt;alimentar das coisas&lt;/strong&gt; essenciais, como arte, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;amizade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; sincera, generosidade, respeito, e principalmente com essa &lt;strong&gt;coisa clara e grande&lt;/strong&gt; que é o &lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;amor&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. Guimarães Rosa disse uma coisa linda e forte: "qualquer amor já é um pouquinho de saúde, um descanso na loucura". E, o &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;mundo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; anda cansado, cansando a gente porque falta-lhe saúde. As pessoas andam doentes dos olhos, do coração.&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt; Estamos todos juntos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; e, mesmo que o barco &lt;strong&gt;pareça furado&lt;/strong&gt;, há de se ter fé. &lt;strong&gt;Alguma fé&lt;/strong&gt;, em qualquer &lt;strong&gt;coisa bonita.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Caio F. de Abreu) &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;(As pessoas andam doentes dos olhos e do coração. Diz tudo não? Mais como faríamos para evitar de ficarmos doente, se essa doença é o amor? Fiquem com a dúvida, talvez sem resposta.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Por: Amanda Penha&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-5812143228137958982?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/5812143228137958982/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=5812143228137958982&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/5812143228137958982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/5812143228137958982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/10/saudade-e-nunca-mais-querer-saber-de.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/StbZXB1n7ZI/AAAAAAAABK8/9hsdMtjPjE0/s72-c/theyes.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-2921609142169798026</id><published>2009-10-14T08:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T10:08:58.739-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ando &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;apaixonado&lt;/span&gt; por viver, com tudo que isso implica.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(Caio F. de Abreu)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 212px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392502415593123442" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/StYEYFPdLnI/AAAAAAAABK0/V17aSRROMjg/s320/3507659403_7e2e2b25ee.jpg" /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;(Ando &lt;strong&gt;apaixonada&lt;/strong&gt; por viver, viver novas amizades, &lt;strong&gt;novos amores&lt;/strong&gt;, novos ares,&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; viver novas&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;esperanças&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, viver novos sonhos, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;VIVER&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-2921609142169798026?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2921609142169798026/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=2921609142169798026&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2921609142169798026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2921609142169798026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/10/ando-apaixonado-por-viver-com-tudo-que.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/StYEYFPdLnI/AAAAAAAABK0/V17aSRROMjg/s72-c/3507659403_7e2e2b25ee.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-4481662232870737705</id><published>2009-10-12T23:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-13T00:09:57.216-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#999999;"&gt;''A glória da &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;amizade&lt;/span&gt; não é a mão estendida, nem o sorriso carinhoso, nem mesmo a delícia da companhia. É a inspiração espiritual que vem quando você descobre que alguém acredita e &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;confia em você&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;♥&lt;/span&gt; ''&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 238px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391976278567963378" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/StQl24FgSvI/AAAAAAAABKs/nkK4inO0qPE/s320/390514284_7b2e125467.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Se é verdade que o &lt;strong&gt;tempo&lt;/strong&gt; não volta, também deveria ser verdade que os &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;amigos&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; não se perdem, os meus jamais se perderam estão sempre ocupando um lugar no meio do meu peito, nas lembranças de infância, na memória da &lt;strong&gt;minha vida&lt;/strong&gt;." &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;♥ &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-4481662232870737705?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/4481662232870737705/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=4481662232870737705&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/4481662232870737705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/4481662232870737705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/10/gloria-da-amizade-nao-e-mao-estendida.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/StQl24FgSvI/AAAAAAAABKs/nkK4inO0qPE/s72-c/390514284_7b2e125467.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-9022129919282316254</id><published>2009-10-12T13:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-12T14:23:44.734-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Dia frio,&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt; céu cinza&lt;/span&gt;, vento gelado, hoje o dia mostra como estou por &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;dentro&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 222px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391826026018731314" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/StOdNBuNdTI/AAAAAAAABKk/vUqVBYUwrOg/s320/peacee.JPG" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Voltas &lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;inverno&lt;/span&gt;, estás perdoado, em plena primavera, não há&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt; flores&lt;/span&gt; nos campos.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-9022129919282316254?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/9022129919282316254/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=9022129919282316254&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/9022129919282316254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/9022129919282316254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/10/dia-frio-ceu-cinza-vento-gelado-hoje-o.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/StOdNBuNdTI/AAAAAAAABKk/vUqVBYUwrOg/s72-c/peacee.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-393069606287731285</id><published>2009-10-11T23:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-12T00:12:05.739-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;''Muito &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;tempo&lt;/span&gt; para pensar, faz a gente amar ou desamar, além da conta.''&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(Cáh Morandi)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 242px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391601065578799490" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/StLQmmxxIYI/AAAAAAAABKc/UkPKp_GJMQ4/s320/untitled.bmp" /&gt;(...)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Os &lt;strong&gt;amores &lt;/strong&gt;antes de chegar, deviam me enviar cartas avisando com &lt;strong&gt;antecedência sua v&lt;/strong&gt;isita em minha vida, &lt;strong&gt;ou então&lt;/strong&gt; um telefonema com ligação a cobrar, ou sinais de fumaça, ou pombos com recados, ou garrafas jogadas no mar. Mas &lt;strong&gt;que desse um&lt;/strong&gt; jeito de me comunicar de sua &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;dolorosa chegada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, para que antes eu preparasse o terreno, tá entendendo? &lt;strong&gt;É, arrumasse a&lt;/strong&gt; casa aonde moro e a casa da aonde moram meus &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;sentimentos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, dispensasse outras possíveis visitas, orasse pedindo sol e calmaria por todos esses dias que o amor ficasse, tirasse o pó &lt;strong&gt;acumulado sobre&lt;/strong&gt; as esperanças, me prevenisse dessas &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;dores de parto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. Sim, dores de &lt;strong&gt;parto&lt;/strong&gt;, parto duplo: uma nova vida&lt;strong&gt; chegando&lt;/strong&gt; e já com alguma pretensão de logo partir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-393069606287731285?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/393069606287731285/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=393069606287731285&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/393069606287731285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/393069606287731285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/10/muito-tempo-para-pensar-faz-gente-amar.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/StLQmmxxIYI/AAAAAAAABKc/UkPKp_GJMQ4/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-2604569570984485754</id><published>2009-10-08T13:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-08T13:50:24.444-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Mudei muito, e &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;não preciso&lt;/span&gt; que acreditem na minha &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;mudança&lt;/span&gt; para que eu tenha mudado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;''A gente tem que mirar no alvo e atirar, pronto, foi. A flecha não volta. Se acertamos ou erramos, não tem volta. Foi assim que levei a vida sempre...''&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 247px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390332720756940370" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/Ss5PDOHh3lI/AAAAAAAABKE/cMu-03G1XeQ/s320/unti.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;strong&gt;Hoje&lt;/strong&gt; mais do que nunca me vi de novo dentro da minha vida, &lt;strong&gt;tomei passos&lt;/strong&gt; em falsos, segui estradas diferentes, peguei estrada sem retorno, mudei uma vida toda em pouco tempo, me perdi e não sabia o &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;caminho &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;de volta, mais hoje, hoje eu encontrei ele, e sei que meu caminho não estava totalmente perdido, o tempo jogou a poeira por cima &lt;strong&gt;mais o mesmo tempo&lt;/strong&gt; varreu ela, e me mostrou realmente as minhas pegadas de volta.&lt;br /&gt;Sabe que descobri? &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Que amo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; muita coisa que estava perto de mim e nem sequer levantei os olhos pra ver, que eu sou feliz perto de pessoas que me fazem feliz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Eu estou de volta, de coração vago e caminhos abertos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Por: Amanda Penha&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-2604569570984485754?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2604569570984485754/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=2604569570984485754&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2604569570984485754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2604569570984485754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/10/mudei-muito-e-nao-preciso-que-acreditem.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/Ss5PDOHh3lI/AAAAAAAABKE/cMu-03G1XeQ/s72-c/unti.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-365240331908371364</id><published>2009-10-04T01:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-04T02:09:57.334-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;"Crio poemas toda vez que olho em seus &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;olhos&lt;/span&gt;, eles não são &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;escritos&lt;/span&gt;, mas traduzidos na forma de amor"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388667910190382690" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/Sshk6fdxvmI/AAAAAAAABJc/nKmN1QpjYGw/s320/wings_by_margohell.jpg" /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Toda aquela saudade e aquele amor de sempre, e você não precisava nem de asas pra aprender a voar, sinto saudade de verdade.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-365240331908371364?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/365240331908371364/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=365240331908371364&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/365240331908371364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/365240331908371364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/10/crio-poemas-toda-vez-que-olho-em-seus.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/Sshk6fdxvmI/AAAAAAAABJc/nKmN1QpjYGw/s72-c/wings_by_margohell.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-3318332682088108760</id><published>2009-10-03T09:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-03T09:41:21.019-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E o sol estás a &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;brilhar&lt;/span&gt; novamente&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 194px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388413744985787618" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/Ssd9wIS1zOI/AAAAAAAABJU/7G_alCFcWsg/s320/APRECIANDOOHORIZONTEAZUL.jpg" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt; &lt;em&gt;(Para mim, pra você, pra todo mundo, é só contemplar)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-3318332682088108760?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/3318332682088108760/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=3318332682088108760&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/3318332682088108760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/3318332682088108760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/10/e-o-sol-estas-brilhar-novamente-para.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/Ssd9wIS1zOI/AAAAAAAABJU/7G_alCFcWsg/s72-c/APRECIANDOOHORIZONTEAZUL.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-1615758910818098170</id><published>2009-10-01T21:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T04:18:53.488-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Buscando&lt;/span&gt; um novo rumo que faça &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;sentido&lt;/span&gt;, nesse mundo louco com o &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;coração&lt;/span&gt; partido.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 286px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387858624188920978" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SsWE32LONJI/AAAAAAAABJM/gIGEecvr4h4/s320/rumo%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(Resgate suas forças e se sinta bem, rompendo a sombra da própria loucura, cuide de quem corre do seu lado e quem te quer bem, essa é a coisa mais pura....)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-1615758910818098170?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/1615758910818098170/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=1615758910818098170&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/1615758910818098170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/1615758910818098170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/10/buscando-um-novo-rumo-que-faca-sentido.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SsWE32LONJI/AAAAAAAABJM/gIGEecvr4h4/s72-c/rumo%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-3033658131130424102</id><published>2009-09-30T21:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-04T19:38:20.543-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Quando &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;estiver&lt;/span&gt; muito quente, me &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;dará&lt;/span&gt; uma moleza de balançar &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;devagarinho&lt;/span&gt; na rede pensando em dormir com você.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 231px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387483995847988210" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SsQwJm2fE_I/AAAAAAAABJA/w3aaSmxq7Po/s320/y1pYdOz_rEvKVurWtegmjLx50uOQRW1c-6ID7nQfwx1WiEhfZKDmB-JXYjopKFffWzg0jOwoeE_rRM.jpg" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-3033658131130424102?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/3033658131130424102/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=3033658131130424102&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/3033658131130424102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/3033658131130424102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/09/quando-estiver-muito-quente-me-dara-uma.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SsQwJm2fE_I/AAAAAAAABJA/w3aaSmxq7Po/s72-c/y1pYdOz_rEvKVurWtegmjLx50uOQRW1c-6ID7nQfwx1WiEhfZKDmB-JXYjopKFffWzg0jOwoeE_rRM.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-4138740294903609853</id><published>2009-09-23T13:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T22:18:52.063-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Vivendo a vida numa louca viagem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SrqEvWIGGsI/AAAAAAAABIw/CdCuHMSq0fA/s1600-h/vida.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384762253403101890" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SrqEvWIGGsI/AAAAAAAABIw/CdCuHMSq0fA/s320/vida.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-4138740294903609853?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/4138740294903609853/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=4138740294903609853&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/4138740294903609853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/4138740294903609853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/09/vivendo-vida-numa-louca-viagem-quem-tem.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SrqEvWIGGsI/AAAAAAAABIw/CdCuHMSq0fA/s72-c/vida.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-3476863781003232422</id><published>2009-09-08T22:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T23:20:04.671-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Continuo, depois de meses, encantada pelo sorriso do meu amor &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 314px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379348560714464002" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SqdJA9Rk-wI/AAAAAAAABIU/tX0uLxFT15E/s320/beijo.jpg" /&gt;Ser. Já nada mais restava. Apenas a noite e, dentro dela, o meu silêncio de incompreensão. Meus passos afundavam na areia deixando uma esteira de poças que conteriam as estrelas, não fosse o imenso escuro de tudo. Cada vez mais lento eu caminhava. Para longe do rio. Para longe da pedra. Para longe do medo. Para longe de mim....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Caio. F&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-3476863781003232422?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/3476863781003232422/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=3476863781003232422&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/3476863781003232422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/3476863781003232422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/09/continuo-depois-de-meses-encantada-pelo.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SqdJA9Rk-wI/AAAAAAAABIU/tX0uLxFT15E/s72-c/beijo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-2824739878894955411</id><published>2009-09-04T08:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T08:30:14.644-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E tudo se perdeu....&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-2824739878894955411?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2824739878894955411/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=2824739878894955411&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2824739878894955411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2824739878894955411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/09/e-tudo-se-perdeu.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-2050503740893366418</id><published>2009-09-01T05:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T05:51:47.138-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Deixa o vento soprar, let it be</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/Sp0YmkTPxAI/AAAAAAAABIM/GNf1UpRAym8/s1600-h/caminhos.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 242px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376480581008737282" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/Sp0YmkTPxAI/AAAAAAAABIM/GNf1UpRAym8/s320/caminhos.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hoje pensei sério&lt;/strong&gt;: se me perguntassem o que mais &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;desejo na vida&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, não saberia responder.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Quero tudo. &lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Mas esse "tudo" é tão grande&lt;/span&gt;, tão vago, que me sinto estonteado.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;É preciso ir&lt;strong&gt; limitando meu sonho&lt;/strong&gt;, apagando as linhas supérfluas, corrigindo as arestas, até &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;restar somente&lt;/span&gt; o centro, o âmago,&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt; a essência&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mas qual será esse centro, meu &lt;strong&gt;Deus&lt;/strong&gt;, que não encontro?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;[Sem mais, quem leu sabe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;exatamente como me sinto.]&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-2050503740893366418?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2050503740893366418/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=2050503740893366418&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2050503740893366418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2050503740893366418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/09/hoje-pensei-serio-se-me-perguntassem-o.html' title='Deixa o vento soprar, let it be'/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/Sp0YmkTPxAI/AAAAAAAABIM/GNf1UpRAym8/s72-c/caminhos.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8235235177193905087.post-2988428077638507422</id><published>2009-08-19T18:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-19T18:41:37.832-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Eu &lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;sempre&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; digo que eu posso ter uma &lt;strong&gt;solidão&lt;/strong&gt; medonha, mas sempre vai haver um vasinho de &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;flores num canto&lt;/span&gt;. A gente pode enfeitar a &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;amargura&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 234px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371854357491550834" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SoypE6trCnI/AAAAAAAABHg/YQhtzoYVvgY/s320/IMG1418-01.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;[&lt;strong&gt;Porque às vezes do meu lado e da solidão&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;, eu tenho uma flor em minha mão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Por Amanda Penha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8235235177193905087-2988428077638507422?l=sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2988428077638507422/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8235235177193905087&amp;postID=2988428077638507422&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2988428077638507422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8235235177193905087/posts/default/2988428077638507422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sentimentosdeumpoeta.blogspot.com/2009/08/eu-sempre-digo-que-eu-posso-ter-uma.html' title=''/><author><name>Amanda Florenzano Penha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12336857407941415248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/S_OeXwzK8iI/AAAAAAAABSY/e9O2pgP-jwc/S220/IMG_2987+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sYMog29KKnE/SoypE6trCnI/AAAAAAAABHg/YQhtzoYVvgY/s72-c/IMG1418-01.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry></feed>
