tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53249491202387232212024-03-04T22:32:19.412-08:00Amor À Flor da PeleÀ Flor da Pelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09599719293506610214noreply@blogger.comBlogger8125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324949120238723221.post-66569266904652117172009-02-24T15:28:00.000-08:002009-02-24T15:38:29.604-08:00<span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDQ3TB9kUUlvOuEYqJTch-lOXDAasXLJKj4O62750nex5eiV0vXDBL3LNCgWi31OiGmcV8HW6I7hrkU3aZDgz6p2mcBX5YuFnJ4BvS6XDjNgvKvqA2dFgIKhLDorzUszcY5vrWT6W_GCAR/s1600-h/pintura.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306510609493793842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 262px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDQ3TB9kUUlvOuEYqJTch-lOXDAasXLJKj4O62750nex5eiV0vXDBL3LNCgWi31OiGmcV8HW6I7hrkU3aZDgz6p2mcBX5YuFnJ4BvS6XDjNgvKvqA2dFgIKhLDorzUszcY5vrWT6W_GCAR/s320/pintura.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ff0000;"></span><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size:130%;color:#3333ff;">Fantasias...</span></em></strong></div><div align="center"><br /><strong><em><span style="font-size:130%;color:#3333ff;">Junto-me à multidão dos aflitos,<br />Fantasiados do brilho da ilusão,<br />Assim podemos soltar os gritos,<br />Sem culpa, sem dar explicação...<br /><br />Enfeito-me, como tantos, da cor<br />Que a mentira leva no disfarce,<br />Misturando no riso a mesma dor<br />Escorrido o ano todo pela face...<br /><br />E quando esse povo se dispersa...<br />Ao som do silêncio do tamborim,<br />Meu lado solitário quer conversa...<br /><br />Repreende o meu juízo sem jeito...<br />E da purpurina que ficou em mim<br />Salpica estrelas sobre meu leito!<br /><br />Telma Moreira </span></em></strong></div>À Flor da Pelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09599719293506610214noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324949120238723221.post-64169255606127832752009-02-21T11:52:00.000-08:002009-02-21T12:20:36.790-08:00<span style="font-family:lucida grande;"></span><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM6gPZxz3tnDb_rsnbq6qfHMrI6sLHRTAYas9f8JUdKj4W6PJmReSfp7lpTFnf0tAl4CK7d-k_Nm_RL6Iwi-ScpO8Ez7tN78ojhmbl4GjHRY_VVhfTnII5VGdQbPtIWp8nzdAGwNdkZUOw/s1600-h/mascara+rosto+pintado.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305342939805260962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 251px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM6gPZxz3tnDb_rsnbq6qfHMrI6sLHRTAYas9f8JUdKj4W6PJmReSfp7lpTFnf0tAl4CK7d-k_Nm_RL6Iwi-ScpO8Ez7tN78ojhmbl4GjHRY_VVhfTnII5VGdQbPtIWp8nzdAGwNdkZUOw/s320/mascara+rosto+pintado.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff99ff;"><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><em><strong>É carnaval...<br /><br />Teria eu guardado,<br />Alguma fantasia<br />Que tenha sobrado<br />De qualquer alegoria<br />Do meu passado?<br /><br />Só vejo no fundo<br />Do armário vazio,<br />Um traje imundo<br />De mofo e de frio,<br />Do tempo oriundo...<br /><br />Deixo-o às traças<br />Da tola lembrança...<br />São fúteis fumaças<br />De veste esperança,<br />Bordando pirraças...<br /><br />Cubro-me do nada,<br />Enfeito-me do riso,<br />Na máscara pintada...<br />Confetes ora piso,<br />Pra nua ser levada...<br /><br />Telma Moreira </strong></em></span></span></div>À Flor da Pelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09599719293506610214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324949120238723221.post-34349867558438059912009-01-30T21:25:00.000-08:002009-01-30T21:59:44.639-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVoapMknjye-JBFoY9qpwDGkYkdYM9GSnosbmt6Shb2xjSd0uMdaIvVQZX7GJ0cTSiZ3r5nLSi0533XcqvIowtlImcJ7SQVCY00Uj5UMl8qlaTHOQ9w2IlKRMi6gtpAkwH4JKxAz07g80c/s1600-h/casal.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297332312780445522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 227px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVoapMknjye-JBFoY9qpwDGkYkdYM9GSnosbmt6Shb2xjSd0uMdaIvVQZX7GJ0cTSiZ3r5nLSi0533XcqvIowtlImcJ7SQVCY00Uj5UMl8qlaTHOQ9w2IlKRMi6gtpAkwH4JKxAz07g80c/s320/casal.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#6600cc;"><strong>DEPOIS DO AMOR...<br /><br />Enquanto repousas<br />Sobre meu corpo saciado,<br />Percorro teu corpo suado<br />Com dedos leves e toques sutis<br />A te agradecer por ser tão feliz!<br /><br />Enquanto madornas,<br />Sinto tua respiração ardente<br />E as batidas de teu coração cadente...<br />Então, te digo coisas que não ouves<br />E te falo de sonhos que nunca soubes...<br /><br />Enquanto descansas...<br />Depois de nosso amor louco,<br />Forte e suave, de tudo um pouco,<br />Satisfeita e agradada, desperta proponho...<br />E no beijo te enalteço, te amo, te sonho!<br /><br />Enquanto viajas,<br />Entre o prazer e o cansaço,<br />Cuido de ti e te envolvo em meus braços...<br />Sorrio das lágrimas, te faço poesia,<br />Na espera que a noite possa ver o dia...<br /><br />E, enquanto tu vais...<br />Eu fico! Mas, não sós...<br />Corpo e alma não se separam jamais!<br />Quando partes, me leva contigo...<br />E, quando não vou... ficas comigo!<br /><br />Telma Moreira </strong></span></div>À Flor da Pelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09599719293506610214noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324949120238723221.post-83523325630091844342009-01-27T14:00:00.001-08:002009-01-27T14:07:32.075-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Coy26QrUS30gdqXrozYqNOWu6lz8J5tW5zv27RwHNQlwabYd3-hVjsm_oRhxBM49YeZudBNBWkO70EzlF1CsqZHDA_34F0my5furwpgZD8wdDTrPgm-Ixzr2yZAWAf4iNekhpNhfEZW7/s1600-h/Mulher+(431).jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296098076763837890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 305px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Coy26QrUS30gdqXrozYqNOWu6lz8J5tW5zv27RwHNQlwabYd3-hVjsm_oRhxBM49YeZudBNBWkO70EzlF1CsqZHDA_34F0my5furwpgZD8wdDTrPgm-Ixzr2yZAWAf4iNekhpNhfEZW7/s320/Mulher+(431).jpg" border="0" /></a> <div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ffff66;">DESVIO</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ffff66;">Telma Moreira</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ffff66;"><br /></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ffff66;"><br /></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ffff66;">Hoje amanheci em chuva...</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ffff66;">Acordei em pedaços,</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ffff66;">C’alma em dores,</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ffff66;">Sem almejar espaços...</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ffff66;">E transcorri em fios as horas,</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ffff66;">Sem encontrar abrigos,</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ffff66;">Nem discernir amigos,</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ffff66;">Que me fizesse afagos...</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ffff66;">Vem a noite, o dia vai...</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ffff66;">E o anseio de findar meus ais...</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ffff66;">Desmaiar de beijos,</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ffff66;">Adormecer em desejos...</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ffff66;">Um chamego, um apreço,</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ffff66;">Qualquer coisa ao fim do dia,</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ffff66;">Que afugente a nostalgia,</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ffff66;">Do solitário corpo...</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ffff66;">Ah, quem dera... nada muda!</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ffff66;">Enquanto a vida impede</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ffff66;">Meu coração de sorrir...</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ffff66;">Derramo a dor do peito,</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ffff66;">Ajeito o cabelo desfeito,</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ffff66;">Limpo as cinzas do cinzeiro,</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ffff66;">Vou me arrumar... e sair!</span></strong></div>À Flor da Pelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09599719293506610214noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324949120238723221.post-39896325184542694092009-01-27T13:52:00.000-08:002009-01-27T13:57:41.146-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr0S_nmtphyphenhyphen73GeLSBmg3CcD3CRUXV7OuCW6PyE48B0sZ6ZPEaytYGIpn5v0M-jiMttJQ8NhKz_1Dw5xRac6vsWEv07OE5eVIoOQXXN4M11wohzIiIz88klSgv9wEPfKltD3smyWI9AUQq/s1600-h/Casais+(109).jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296095056069238242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr0S_nmtphyphenhyphen73GeLSBmg3CcD3CRUXV7OuCW6PyE48B0sZ6ZPEaytYGIpn5v0M-jiMttJQ8NhKz_1Dw5xRac6vsWEv07OE5eVIoOQXXN4M11wohzIiIz88klSgv9wEPfKltD3smyWI9AUQq/s320/Casais+(109).jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">EROTISMO</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">Telma Moreira</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><br /></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><br /></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">Cobre-se do rubro no corpo ardente...</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">Em leito escuro, solitário e quente,</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">Onde fez-se noite e madrugada</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">E o sono esperado não tem morada...</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><br /></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">As mãos indóceis percorrem inábeis...</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">Nos desejos insanos e inconfessáveis</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">A tocar a pele e os contornos tensos...</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">Ouvindo silêncio e palpitar imensos!</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><br /></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">Contorcida em ritmo brando e lento,</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">Num turbilhão de sentir e de vontade...</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">Incesto, querer fazer amor com a saudade...</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><br /></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">Na luta contra esse demônio hilário...</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">Não há anjos quaisquer que lhe deem alento</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">E já, leve-a ao êxtase, o macho imaginário!</span></strong></div><br /><div></div>À Flor da Pelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09599719293506610214noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324949120238723221.post-24714682232488961362009-01-27T13:45:00.000-08:002009-01-27T13:59:41.619-08:00<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeqwgyJcPTvHqtw_huD-Mud6JJDAqtGn5t5eR_XmWYgqTeWx-nqQjC7-sU35fDJ3V6mw6bU8tIK81wBMscbAgPQV1KERJ4xbfD_XDF2OOd-2PqtM6DoRzaNrLoqN3z628MIzi7isgjOiKy/s1600-h/0+(415).JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296093481917452610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeqwgyJcPTvHqtw_huD-Mud6JJDAqtGn5t5eR_XmWYgqTeWx-nqQjC7-sU35fDJ3V6mw6bU8tIK81wBMscbAgPQV1KERJ4xbfD_XDF2OOd-2PqtM6DoRzaNrLoqN3z628MIzi7isgjOiKy/s320/0+(415).JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#999900;"><strong><br /></strong></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#999900;"><strong>VÉSPERA</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#999900;"><strong>Telma Moreira</strong></span><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#999900;"><strong><br /></strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#999900;"><strong>Quem é você...</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#999900;"><strong>que rodeia meu bloqueio e remexe em minha rotina?</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#999900;"><strong>Quem é você...</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#999900;"><strong>que insiste em satisfazer desejos já não sonhados?</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#999900;"><strong>Quem é você...</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#999900;"><strong>que invade meu mundo de muros derrubados?</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#999900;"><strong>Quem é você...</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#999900;"><strong>que persiste em roubar meu tempo de sono escasso?...</strong></span><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#999900;"><strong><br /></strong></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#999900;"><strong>Há muito ando perdida e não me procuro mais!</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#999900;"><strong>E você vem querendo despertar a parte que dorme, acordada...</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#999900;"><strong>Há tanto de mistério em você, em mim, nesse encontro...</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#999900;"><strong>Você chega para fazer ressurgir o medo...</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#999900;"><strong>Um medo inexplicável, imenso, insensato, absurdo...</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#999900;"><strong>O medo de reagir...de ser...ou de querer...</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#999900;"><strong>Um medo infindo de ousar...</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#999900;"><strong>E você, quem será?...</strong></span> </span></div>À Flor da Pelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09599719293506610214noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324949120238723221.post-20126619492385285932009-01-27T13:35:00.000-08:002009-01-27T13:45:26.010-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqkpz6LTyMME02TNwojVA6Vkz-a-pNfrWJYpUjQeCNH26Go2Px0qDEcm_3KbbWBRt45Y-3p9JvZDkDxjzBu85XRs20GFId2L3g5b6YBL2RKJhsYpKshgVM4qOY6Jk9O1X4Xpw1KN-984Mv/s1600-h/costura.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296092432268982578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 233px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqkpz6LTyMME02TNwojVA6Vkz-a-pNfrWJYpUjQeCNH26Go2Px0qDEcm_3KbbWBRt45Y-3p9JvZDkDxjzBu85XRs20GFId2L3g5b6YBL2RKJhsYpKshgVM4qOY6Jk9O1X4Xpw1KN-984Mv/s320/costura.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff9900;"><strong>TRIBUTO À MINHA MÃE!</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff9900;"><strong>Telma Moreira</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff9900;"><strong><br /></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff9900;"><strong><br /></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff9900;"><strong>Toca... e toca seu pé, a costureira,</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff9900;"><strong>No pedal de sua máquina penhorada...</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff9900;"><strong>Até que as peças formem uma montoeira</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff9900;"><strong>De tons e cores, por sobre a bancada...</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff9900;"><strong><br /></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff9900;"><strong>Balança os pés, em ritmo tão igual</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff9900;"><strong>Que as pernas doem e a vista cansa,</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff9900;"><strong>Parecendo sofrer de algum mal...</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff9900;"><strong>Embora sua vontade não descansa...</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff9900;"><strong><br /></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff9900;"><strong>E quando a entrega lhe imputa</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff9900;"><strong>O pagamento de míseras moedas...</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff9900;"><strong>Ainda lhe resta o sorriso da melancolia...</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff9900;"><strong><br /></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff9900;"><strong>Por bendita ser esta labuta,</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff9900;"><strong>Que lhe benzem o pão de cada dia...</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ff9900;"><strong>E garante a escola de cada filha!</strong></span></div>À Flor da Pelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09599719293506610214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5324949120238723221.post-91921235325069102292009-01-27T13:22:00.000-08:002009-01-27T13:33:08.561-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyvBCvLO3ii6wJVrFfal1hwoWLojQ5aRAjg9VHsin9hJUTCeeZvIZfJeRcHfWKhC_9VG5qQVT6m2KOVrkvutK3i1Q-MIzdFIaXDtguRsnMEnYDgM3yYMdWgkLW0x9i_5SDqVAnWsHwItFx/s1600-h/Mulher+(710).bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296088812726268338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyvBCvLO3ii6wJVrFfal1hwoWLojQ5aRAjg9VHsin9hJUTCeeZvIZfJeRcHfWKhC_9VG5qQVT6m2KOVrkvutK3i1Q-MIzdFIaXDtguRsnMEnYDgM3yYMdWgkLW0x9i_5SDqVAnWsHwItFx/s320/Mulher+(710).bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ccccff;"><strong>ESCULTURA</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ccccff;"><strong>Telma Moreira</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ccccff;"><strong><br /></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ccccff;"><strong><br /></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ccccff;"><strong>És estátua talhada em cedro nobre...</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ccccff;"><strong>Tens a forma solitária de mulher...</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ccccff;"><strong>Moldada e gravada pelo artista pobre...</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ccccff;"><strong>Que sonha na vida o que quer!</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ccccff;"><strong><br /></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ccccff;"><strong>Trazes esculpida em teus traços...</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ccccff;"><strong>A imaginação fértil do seu criador...</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ccccff;"><strong>Tens beleza dos pés aos braços...</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ccccff;"><strong>Retratada por obra de um sonhador...</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ccccff;"><strong><br /></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ccccff;"><strong>Apaixonei-me por ti...estatueta!</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ccccff;"><strong>E ver-te assim, tão perfeita...</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ccccff;"><strong>Provocaste inconfessável inveja...</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ccccff;"><strong><br /></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ccccff;"><strong>Por perpetuaste em tua nua imagem</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ccccff;"><strong>Sensualidade, audácia, coragem...</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ccccff;"><strong>Aos olhos de quem te veja!</strong></span></div>À Flor da Pelehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09599719293506610214noreply@blogger.com2