<?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-2566586238752479880</id><updated>2011-11-25T05:59:56.082-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Abram Aspas</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>47</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-1789140469442022856</id><published>2011-03-14T11:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-14T11:17:15.592-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Retomada</title><content type='html'>Através das linhas aqui publicadas descobri um pouco mais de mim.&lt;br /&gt; E aos poucos, fui meio que deixando no rascunho a poesia dos dias.&lt;br /&gt; Sem publica-las mais aqui.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Não deixei de escrever, talvez só tenha mudado um pouco o formato e a vida se encarregou de me mostrar de tudo o que serviu o que fiz por aqui. Por isso hj a RETOMADA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Oi de novo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2566586238752479880-1789140469442022856?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/1789140469442022856/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=1789140469442022856' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/1789140469442022856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/1789140469442022856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2011/03/retomada.html' title='Retomada'/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-7397430521845978137</id><published>2010-08-26T06:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-26T06:58:48.795-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tem gente no mundo&lt;br /&gt;Que não lê Clarice&lt;br /&gt;Não ouve Chico&lt;br /&gt;Não olha pra Picasso.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tem gente no mundo&lt;br /&gt;Que precisa saber&lt;br /&gt;Se ...&lt;br /&gt;amanhã vai chover&lt;br /&gt;o dolar vai permaner&lt;br /&gt;a ferida vai doer&lt;br /&gt;ou conseguirá ao menos amanhecer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tem gente no mundo&lt;br /&gt;Rezando&lt;br /&gt;Chorando&lt;br /&gt;Cantando.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu só não tenho certeza se ...&lt;br /&gt;Tem gente no mundo&lt;br /&gt;Como eu,&lt;br /&gt;Se há um mundo como o meu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu...&lt;br /&gt;Rodando, andando, amando !&lt;br /&gt;Tentando escrever pra tanta gente&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Questionando se tem alguém&lt;br /&gt;Que nem a gente no mundo.&lt;/strong&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/2566586238752479880-7397430521845978137?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/7397430521845978137/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=7397430521845978137' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/7397430521845978137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/7397430521845978137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2010/08/tem-gente-no-mundo-que-nao-le-clarice.html' title=''/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-3607167657747942028</id><published>2010-08-09T08:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-10T05:46:46.175-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Tão fácil é se perder olhando pra trás. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Com saudade de como poderia ter sido, se todos nós tivessemos aprendido a olhar um pouco mais pra dentro.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Com menos medo de perder tempo, se soubessemos mais o que somos e não estivessemos tão atentos ao que gostariamos de ser.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;É a saudade do que nunca fizemos que fez o tempo passar tão depressa e me fez perder o olhar na dúvida de quem eu realmente conheci!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;E o pior é sentir que, eu nunca poderia mais ou menos isso te dizer por que talvez as coisas que custamos a aprender só sirvam para nós mesmos. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2566586238752479880-3607167657747942028?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/3607167657747942028/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=3607167657747942028' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/3607167657747942028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/3607167657747942028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2010/08/tao-facil-e-se-perder-olhando-pra-tras.html' title=''/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-220910322109401699</id><published>2010-01-15T08:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T08:22:16.406-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Acrescento um ponto final!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Releio muitas vezes as mesmas linhas.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Até que decoro.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;A mesma história e despedida. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me canso. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mas antes de rasgar esta folha, antes de esquecer o dito e o não dito .&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Eu apago as vírgulas e reticências...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Acrescento um ponto final. &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/2566586238752479880-220910322109401699?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/220910322109401699/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=220910322109401699' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/220910322109401699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/220910322109401699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2010/01/acrescento-um-ponto-final.html' title='Acrescento um ponto final!'/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-2907975900185001910</id><published>2010-01-15T08:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-08-09T08:10:14.629-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Me da nauseas... Sensação de inutilidade de cada membro, de cada sentido.&lt;br /&gt;Pés gelados...não preciso mais dizer o quanto incomoda!&lt;br /&gt;É como um anzol me rasgando do estômago e sendo puxado até a garganta.&lt;br /&gt;É a vontade muda de gritar.&lt;br /&gt;Mudando sem mudar.&lt;br /&gt;Sem insistir.&lt;br /&gt;É um só enchergar.&lt;br /&gt;Sem ver.&lt;br /&gt;Sem ser.&lt;br /&gt;Sem viver.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2566586238752479880-2907975900185001910?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/2907975900185001910/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=2907975900185001910' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/2907975900185001910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/2907975900185001910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2010/01/me-da-nauseas.html' title=''/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-4727369237633105544</id><published>2010-01-15T07:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T07:59:52.641-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;... e "&lt;em&gt;aquilo&lt;/em&gt;" que parecia nunca passar, durou no suspiro,  virou máscara espatifada. Cacos  ninguém juntou. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#339999;"&gt; Ta aqui, embaixo do meu tapete.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#339999;"&gt; E me faz tropeçar todos os dias. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#339999;"&gt; Os mesmos cacos, no mesmo lugar, sob o mesm tapete ... nas mesmas manhãs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#339999;"&gt; Os mesmos tropeços. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2566586238752479880-4727369237633105544?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/4727369237633105544/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=4727369237633105544' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/4727369237633105544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/4727369237633105544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2010/01/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-2692450420924087132</id><published>2010-01-15T07:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T07:55:14.012-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;"&gt;" Dói de andar torto, com o chão no olhar... é daquelas de sentir o peito latejar " .&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/2566586238752479880-2692450420924087132?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/2692450420924087132/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=2692450420924087132' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/2692450420924087132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/2692450420924087132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2010/01/doi-de-andar-torto-com-o-chao-no-olhar.html' title=''/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-3255266063361864743</id><published>2010-01-15T07:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T07:51:07.358-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ressentir não é sentir outra vez .</title><content type='html'>Meu ressentimento&lt;br /&gt;Não é  mesmo sentimento de outrora .&lt;br /&gt;Aquilo era amor !&lt;br /&gt;Agora não é nada .&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2566586238752479880-3255266063361864743?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/3255266063361864743/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=3255266063361864743' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/3255266063361864743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/3255266063361864743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2010/01/ressentir-nao-e-sentir-outra-vez.html' title='Ressentir não é sentir outra vez .'/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-7209002879880421872</id><published>2009-10-07T15:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-07T16:06:48.114-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Quando o amor vira lembrança&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Vaga...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pensamento cortante&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fazendo de nós partes estranhas, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;De um mesmo lado...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Contra qualquer índicio de nada .&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Faz de tudo motivo pra se embebedar em lágrimas.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Estabelecer limites.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Agora ?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Cercar - se de não's.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Não há tempo pra mais nada.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Já não cabe na vida.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Das "almas - gêmeas" nem as semelhanças normais entre quaisquer estranhos.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Não se fala em destino.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Já não há mais ... amor.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;( ... E todo mundo diz que ficar triste assim não vale a pena...  Nando Reis)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&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/2566586238752479880-7209002879880421872?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/7209002879880421872/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=7209002879880421872' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/7209002879880421872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/7209002879880421872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2009/10/quando-o-amor-vira-lembranca-vaga.html' title=''/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-6659586712391248726</id><published>2009-09-22T18:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T18:03:37.495-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;" A dor de não ter dado certo, só dura até entender  que a vida segue em reticências ."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2566586238752479880-6659586712391248726?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/6659586712391248726/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=6659586712391248726' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/6659586712391248726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/6659586712391248726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2009/09/dor-de-nao-ter-dado-certo-so-dura-ate.html' title=''/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-2617706275635984128</id><published>2009-09-22T07:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T07:27:13.010-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;Olha o tempo com os olhos de agora...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt; Que o tempo passa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt; Passa sem prever  o teu pesar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt; O que é ?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt; O que foi ?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt; E o que virá?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt; Passa em cima e através do que deixa pra depois...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt; E enquanto olha pra trás, não vê no teu presente...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt; O presente que não vem .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt; E talvez quando chegar, você não perceba .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt; Não se lembra ... não se conhece!&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/2566586238752479880-2617706275635984128?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/2617706275635984128/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=2617706275635984128' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/2617706275635984128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/2617706275635984128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2009/09/olha-o-tempo-com-os-olhos-de-agora.html' title=''/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-4936593185956842216</id><published>2009-09-10T13:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T13:44:17.835-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To precisando rir... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To precisando sair ... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To precisando agilizar... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To precisando voltar a me acompanhar... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To precisando ler mais ... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To precisando ver a tonelada de filmes que estão na gaveta... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To precisando me rever... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To precisando nos ver bem ... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To precisando não precisar de nada também....&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To precisando me desligar...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To precisando não ligar ....&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To precisando clicar... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To precisando correr atrás do que realmente preciso...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To precisando acreditar...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To precisando não ceder...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To precisando dizer...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To precisando lembrar...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Que toda palavra não dita é só todo o impossivel da minha vida !!!&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/2566586238752479880-4936593185956842216?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/4936593185956842216/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=4936593185956842216' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/4936593185956842216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/4936593185956842216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2009/09/to-precisando-rir.html' title=''/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-5249677256500224831</id><published>2009-05-02T14:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-02T14:49:09.690-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/Sfy_trjOPCI/AAAAAAAAAJo/dViPfE90eSc/s1600-h/gira.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331346850405301282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 228px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/Sfy_trjOPCI/AAAAAAAAAJo/dViPfE90eSc/s320/gira.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;Medo de morrer na praia depois de beber o mar.&lt;br /&gt;Medo de gente, medo da solidão.&lt;br /&gt;Medo de fechar os olhos, ou abri-los demais.&lt;br /&gt;Medo de ver o que não vejo,&lt;br /&gt;Medo de me enxergar auto suficiente, medo de tocar no interruptor que acende essa luz.&lt;br /&gt;Medo de sorrir demais, medo de fechar a cara, e viver em plena paz.&lt;br /&gt;Medo de ter mais medo que tenho.&lt;br /&gt;Medo de ter um medo só meu, de sentir muito... Medo de não sentir nada.&lt;br /&gt;Só medo.&lt;br /&gt;Me atrevo a viver o mais de mim, e oscilar meus humores e as razões do sorriso.&lt;br /&gt;Calar rumores&lt;br /&gt;Me atrevo a viver talvez com medo de tanto ... Mas sem medo de mim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&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/2566586238752479880-5249677256500224831?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/5249677256500224831/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=5249677256500224831' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/5249677256500224831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/5249677256500224831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2009/05/medo-de-morrer-na-praia-depois-de-beber.html' title=''/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/Sfy_trjOPCI/AAAAAAAAAJo/dViPfE90eSc/s72-c/gira.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-1903545732796673629</id><published>2009-03-16T06:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-24T15:29:04.244-07:00</updated><title type='text'>O que sinto, teus pontos, nossas vírgulas...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Ser em verso&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Afeto em feitos,&lt;br /&gt;Poesia que não se lê&lt;br /&gt;Sente?&lt;br /&gt;Homem sem métrica certa&lt;br /&gt;Planeja, almeja .&lt;br /&gt;Desejos livres, pés no chão&lt;br /&gt;Soneto sensato&lt;br /&gt;Reticências em frases curtas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inspiração dos textos que não publiquei&lt;br /&gt;Menino de prosas doces&lt;br /&gt;Rimas fáceis&lt;br /&gt;Olho colorido que verseja.&lt;br /&gt;E eu, nesse teclado empoeirado na tentativa de cessar &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;as palavras,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;o que sinto, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;teus pontos,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;nossas vírgulas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Te deixo como sinônimo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;de bons sentimentos que mantenho.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2566586238752479880-1903545732796673629?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/1903545732796673629/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=1903545732796673629' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/1903545732796673629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/1903545732796673629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2009/03/o-que-sinto-teus-pontos-nossas-virgulas.html' title='O que sinto, teus pontos, nossas vírgulas...'/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-2839526595702585223</id><published>2009-02-23T13:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T14:02:21.609-08:00</updated><title type='text'>observ(Ando), absor(Vendo) e abstra(Indo)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SaMakT2a55I/AAAAAAAAAI4/TxGeF5GKO8w/s1600-h/mo%C3%A7a.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306113997078718354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 318px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SaMakT2a55I/AAAAAAAAAI4/TxGeF5GKO8w/s320/mo%C3%A7a.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;Desconfie do quanto demorei pra dormir.&lt;br /&gt;Desconfie da voz que falhou... Do sentir que congelou.&lt;br /&gt;Lembre - se do cheiro que deixou.&lt;br /&gt;Minha memória é eficaz ao que ouço.&lt;br /&gt;Impossível combinar teus feitos e &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;palavras.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;vapor&lt;/span&gt;, seco&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;velho,&lt;/span&gt; novo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;pratico&lt;/span&gt;, coração. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2566586238752479880-2839526595702585223?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/2839526595702585223/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=2839526595702585223' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/2839526595702585223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/2839526595702585223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2009/02/observando-absorvendo-e-abstraindo.html' title='observ(Ando), absor(Vendo) e abstra(Indo)'/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SaMakT2a55I/AAAAAAAAAI4/TxGeF5GKO8w/s72-c/mo%C3%A7a.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-4435044724513709049</id><published>2009-02-23T13:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T13:44:30.693-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SaMYnZCiLfI/AAAAAAAAAIw/48fTS58U4uc/s1600-h/corda_bamba.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306111850988056050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 194px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SaMYnZCiLfI/AAAAAAAAAIw/48fTS58U4uc/s320/corda_bamba.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Gestos amostra, palavras sensatas, apuro o desejo de estar ao teu lado.&lt;br /&gt;Nada há dizer, nem mensagens há dar.&lt;br /&gt;Me sinto espontânea ... e algo a mais.&lt;br /&gt;Vejo o futuro e a minha vontade ... a tua presença já não faz parte do meu itinerár&lt;/span&gt;io.&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/2566586238752479880-4435044724513709049?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/4435044724513709049/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=4435044724513709049' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/4435044724513709049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/4435044724513709049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2009/02/gestos-amostra-palavras-sensatas-apuro.html' title=''/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SaMYnZCiLfI/AAAAAAAAAIw/48fTS58U4uc/s72-c/corda_bamba.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-6352139449392419586</id><published>2009-01-17T16:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T09:07:48.966-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SXdWJNd9YOI/AAAAAAAAAIA/7iKoP-xDvx0/s1600-h/sombra.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293794603231437026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SXdWJNd9YOI/AAAAAAAAAIA/7iKoP-xDvx0/s320/sombra.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;Melhor que amar loucamente, é ser paciente com o amor que se sente.&lt;br /&gt;Poder (se) conhecer mais e calmamente,&lt;br /&gt;Acalmar a mente&lt;br /&gt;Aquietar – se.&lt;br /&gt;Se reconhecer no alguém tantas vezes já visto... E por este (quem sabe ?)&lt;br /&gt;Ceder, apaixonar...&lt;br /&gt;Novamente com nova mente.&lt;br /&gt;Sem preocupações ou ensaios da vaidade, que tanto cegam a verdade.&lt;br /&gt;Mentiras disfarçadas de intenção, não tem mais lugar .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;E assim, mas não menos assim...&lt;br /&gt;Descobrir que o melhor já está aqui. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;No olhar para dentro.&lt;br /&gt;Sendo eu, tendo você.&lt;br /&gt;E para melhor trilhar tal caminho...&lt;br /&gt;Te peço que fiquemos de mão dadas ... assim será mais difícil tropeçar . &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;(CONTINUA ...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;/span&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/2566586238752479880-6352139449392419586?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/6352139449392419586/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=6352139449392419586' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/6352139449392419586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/6352139449392419586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2009/01/melhor-que-amar-loucamente-ser-paciente.html' title=''/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SXdWJNd9YOI/AAAAAAAAAIA/7iKoP-xDvx0/s72-c/sombra.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-2217100647894596544</id><published>2009-01-12T10:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T10:48:48.494-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;Ta certo que o nosso mal, jeito foi vital &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;Pra dispersar o nosso bom...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;e o nosso som pausou.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;E por tanta exposição a disposição ... Cansou ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;Secou da fonte da paciência, e em nossa excelência ficou &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;lá fora.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;Solidão é solução de nós .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;Deixa eu me livrar das minhas marcas...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;Deixa eu me lembrar de criar asas .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;Só me resta agora acreditar que esse encontro &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;que se deu, não nos traduziu melhor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;E a conta da saudade quem é que paga ? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;Ja que estamos brigados de nada...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;Lembra o que valeu a pena &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;Foi nossa cena não ter pressa pra passar ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt; - Acabou.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2566586238752479880-2217100647894596544?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/2217100647894596544/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=2217100647894596544' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/2217100647894596544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/2217100647894596544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2009/01/ta-certo-que-o-nosso-mal-jeito-foi.html' title=''/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-7958169069163808739</id><published>2009-01-09T10:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T11:04:59.750-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;h2 style="font-weight: normal; font-style: italic;" id="sz"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Eu Te Amo  /  Tom Jobim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h2&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, se já perdemos a noção da hora&lt;br /&gt;Se juntos já jogamos tudo fora&lt;br /&gt;Me conta agora como hei de partir?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt; Se, ao te conhecer, dei pra sonhar, fiz tantos desvarios&lt;br /&gt;Rompi com o mundo, queimei meus navios&lt;br /&gt;Me diz pra onde é que inda posso ir?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; Se nós, nas travessuras das noites eternas&lt;br /&gt;Já confundimos tanto as nossas pernas&lt;br /&gt;Diz com que pernas eu devo seguir?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; Se entornaste a nossa sorte pelo chão&lt;br /&gt;Se na bagunça do teu coração&lt;br /&gt;Meu sangue errou de veia e se perdeu&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; Como, se na desordem do armário embutido&lt;br /&gt;Seu paletó enlaça o meu vestido&lt;br /&gt;E o teu sapato inda pisa no meu&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; Como, se nos amamos feito dois pagãos&lt;br /&gt;Meus seios inda estão nas tuas mãos&lt;br /&gt;Me explica com que cara eu vou sair?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; Não, acho que estás te fazendo de tonto&lt;br /&gt;Te dei meus olhos pra tomares conta&lt;br /&gt;Agora conta como hei de partir?&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/2566586238752479880-7958169069163808739?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/7958169069163808739/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=7958169069163808739' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/7958169069163808739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/7958169069163808739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2009/01/eu-te-amo-tom-jobim-ah-se-j-perdemos.html' title=''/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-2977683937240732383</id><published>2009-01-09T10:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-04-18T11:44:29.401-07:00</updated><title type='text'>passado,poema,pesado</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;Dos planos fiz uma trouxa e com toda a força que restava os joguei pra bem longe de mim .... assim não os decepcionarei . &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ufa !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;Juntos todos ali pareciam tão pequenos ... tão... tão qualquer coisa .&lt;br /&gt;Mais pesavam,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;Nossa!!! Como pesavam.&lt;br /&gt;Acho mesmo que eram só um apego .&lt;br /&gt;Bem menos que eu ... e só .&lt;br /&gt;Bem pequenos e acomodados assim.&lt;br /&gt;Algo só pra dizer que tinha !!&lt;br /&gt;Tolice pura, dessas que todo mundo jura não ter .&lt;br /&gt;Que faria, que iria chegar, que iria acontecer ... mesmo assim sem nunca ter certeza de NADA.&lt;br /&gt;Acho que farei outras trouxas assim, amanhã e depois.&lt;br /&gt;Muitas delas serão dificeis de carregar ...&lt;br /&gt;Outras impossiveis de juntar ... impossivéis de classificar .&lt;br /&gt;Vou moderar as expectativas..... principalmente. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;Talvez viver sem esperar nada do nada seja mais ameno.&lt;br /&gt;Menos doloroso. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;Capaz que me renda alguns sorrisos de suposição de felicidade .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2566586238752479880-2977683937240732383?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/2977683937240732383/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=2977683937240732383' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/2977683937240732383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/2977683937240732383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2009/01/passadopoemapesado.html' title='passado,poema,pesado'/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-6377487377101764689</id><published>2008-12-12T09:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T09:58:16.759-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SUKl54nlFGI/AAAAAAAAAH4/Xcs-_a9wuyY/s1600-h/83166984.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278964127101162594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 228px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SUKl54nlFGI/AAAAAAAAAH4/Xcs-_a9wuyY/s320/83166984.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;Psiu! Caminhante me espere, vou contigo!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;Vou, vamos...&lt;br /&gt;Seguir o coração e a intuição.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;Ouvir os astros e sentir as energias&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;Vamos juntas, amigas e cúmplices.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;Aprender a desaprender.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;Um novo olhar, e sempre um novo pedaço de terra para pisar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;É lindo conhecer pessoas pelo olhar ou por uma palavra, só uma basta, para nós loucas, lunáticas, apaixonadas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;Que transformamos o real em sonho até acordadas. &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/2566586238752479880-6377487377101764689?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/6377487377101764689/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=6377487377101764689' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/6377487377101764689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/6377487377101764689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2008/12/psiu-caminhante-me-espere-vou-contigo.html' title=''/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SUKl54nlFGI/AAAAAAAAAH4/Xcs-_a9wuyY/s72-c/83166984.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-7868947359696182490</id><published>2008-12-12T09:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T09:53:48.448-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SUKkuJ_-lMI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jlD4sGG7jCQ/s1600-h/porta2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278962826096841922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 316px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SUKkuJ_-lMI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jlD4sGG7jCQ/s320/porta2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Não era tarde, mas chegou!&lt;br /&gt;O amor,&lt;br /&gt;Deitou – se, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;suspirou.&lt;br /&gt;Não se pronunciou&lt;br /&gt;Não reparou.&lt;br /&gt;E naquele suspiro, indefinido.&lt;br /&gt;Se era cansaço&lt;br /&gt;Se era uma sensação feliz&lt;br /&gt;Se era de não mais caber em si&lt;br /&gt;De ser só amor&lt;br /&gt;Não sei&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Ali mesmo, fechou - se.&lt;br /&gt;Adormeceu&lt;br /&gt;Amorteceu o que sentia&lt;br /&gt;Deixou para o outro dia .&lt;br /&gt;Não se moveu mais&lt;br /&gt;Acomodou!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Se despertou ?&lt;br /&gt;Se sentiu a falta ?&lt;br /&gt;Quanto tempo durou ?&lt;br /&gt;Se adoeceu?&lt;br /&gt;Não sei .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;O que lhe insistia em fazer compania&lt;br /&gt;É muito mais que amor&lt;br /&gt;E entre tantas incertezas&lt;br /&gt;Levantou ...&lt;br /&gt;Sequer suspirou&lt;br /&gt;Foi – se.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;E nem tarde, nem cedo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Nunca mais voltou.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&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/2566586238752479880-7868947359696182490?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/7868947359696182490/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=7868947359696182490' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/7868947359696182490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/7868947359696182490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2008/12/no-era-tarde-mas-chegou-o-amor-deitou.html' title=''/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SUKkuJ_-lMI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jlD4sGG7jCQ/s72-c/porta2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-3974789810869802392</id><published>2008-12-09T08:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T08:52:53.338-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Milena, anjo meu (por Evelyn L. )</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/ST6h_HJu5QI/AAAAAAAAAHo/QB3-mSh8RmQ/s1600-h/Milena.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277833918948500738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 315px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/ST6h_HJu5QI/AAAAAAAAAHo/QB3-mSh8RmQ/s320/Milena.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Acho que meus versos não rimarão com os seus. Eles não saberão.Saberão só, assim, por cima, te descrever. Te oferecer, na mais simples das rimas tudo aquilo que guardo pra te falar. Nada mais daquilo que és.Acho também, que você não é daqui. Parece de outras luas, de outros mundos.Tem jeito de flor, cor de bailarina e sorriso de fada. Tu é flor, menina, poetisa, artista e como se não bastasse tudo isso, você ainda existe. Mulher encantadora, que responde pelo nome de Milena, a dona as aspas mais lindas do mundo inteiro. E desfila por ai, disfarçando-se de publicitária, maquiando-se de mulher e pintando poses de boneca.Mas tu é a mulher mais absurda que eu conheço, porque não perde o brilho nunca. Ainda, é minha afinidade mais acontecida!Nossa sintonia faz muito mais que um elo, faz um universo inteiro dançar no ritmo da música. Surpreende sempre, com seus um metro e pouco, abraça o mundo e em você mora toda doçura dele. É o coração mais pulsante, e mais colorido, também.Espero que não se importe se mais uma vez, meus versos não rimarem. Só não poderia deixar de escrever seus encantos. E é por todos eles e outras milhares de magias, que eu te guardo comigo. Para sempre. Que quando mais preciso, encontro um arco-íris dentro de um sorriso!&lt;br /&gt;Para a minha mais doce amiga, irmã e poetisa: Milena, Mima.&lt;br /&gt;Com açúcar, com afeto, Evelyn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;“assim como a caneta que falha&lt;br /&gt;você quando falta&lt;br /&gt;não dá pra escrever”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2566586238752479880-3974789810869802392?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/3974789810869802392/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=3974789810869802392' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/3974789810869802392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/3974789810869802392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2008/12/milena-anjo-meu.html' title='Milena, anjo meu (por Evelyn L. )'/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/ST6h_HJu5QI/AAAAAAAAAHo/QB3-mSh8RmQ/s72-c/Milena.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-675777896968326964</id><published>2008-12-05T05:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-15T06:22:09.098-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SZgkUsL4PRI/AAAAAAAAAIo/RByT1wbSIms/s1600-h/corda+bamba.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303028499105725714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 194px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SZgkUsL4PRI/AAAAAAAAAIo/RByT1wbSIms/s320/corda+bamba.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;Gestos amostra, palavras sensatas, apuro o desejo de estar ao teu lado. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;Nada há dizer, nem mensagens há dar. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;Me sinto espontânea ... e algo a mais.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;Vejo o futuro e a minha vontade ... a tua presença já não faz parte do meu itinerário.&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/2566586238752479880-675777896968326964?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/675777896968326964/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=675777896968326964' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/675777896968326964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/675777896968326964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2008/12/gestos-amostra-palavras-sensatas-apuro.html' title=''/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SZgkUsL4PRI/AAAAAAAAAIo/RByT1wbSIms/s72-c/corda+bamba.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-4709810859785222966</id><published>2008-12-03T09:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T05:37:23.016-08:00</updated><title type='text'>* Eve *</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/STfcLcM8sEI/AAAAAAAAAHg/iL-w3iBrj-w/s1600-h/eve.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275927577594998850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 232px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 246px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/STfcLcM8sEI/AAAAAAAAAHg/iL-w3iBrj-w/s320/eve.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;Anjo da minha guarda &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;Sintonia que mora no ar &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;Vira e mexe, cai no papel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;e vira poesia .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;Amo como jamais imaginaria . &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;Senhorita de vários dons &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;de viver&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;de levar, leve &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;de sentir os bons ventos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;de transparecer &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;o que é &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;o que faz &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;e o que nada seria&lt;br /&gt;se aqui não estivesse&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;Batendo forte, do lado esquerdo&lt;br /&gt;com açúcar, com afeto&lt;br /&gt;com o ombro disponível&lt;br /&gt;com todos aqueles ingredientes&lt;br /&gt;que alegram a vida&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;Torna mais raso o fundo do poço&lt;br /&gt;É assim&lt;br /&gt;É simples assim&lt;br /&gt;Todo o bem&lt;br /&gt;feito&lt;br /&gt;É feita&lt;br /&gt;é por que é&lt;br /&gt;Não custa e nem cobra&lt;br /&gt;lindamente digna&lt;br /&gt;da melhor amizade que posso oferecer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;Sem meias verdades&lt;br /&gt;Sem freio&lt;br /&gt;Sem lagrimas&lt;br /&gt;Sem o menor esforço&lt;br /&gt;Só rissos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;por você&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;com você&lt;br /&gt;Pra você.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;ps: Sintonia é a identidade ou harmonia vibratória, isto é, o grau de semelhança das emissões ou radiações mentais de dois ou mais espíritos, encarnados ou desencarnados, ou seja, afinidade moral. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&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/2566586238752479880-4709810859785222966?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/4709810859785222966/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=4709810859785222966' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/4709810859785222966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/4709810859785222966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2008/12/eve.html' title='* Eve *'/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/STfcLcM8sEI/AAAAAAAAAHg/iL-w3iBrj-w/s72-c/eve.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-160798753196975346</id><published>2008-11-14T03:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-14T04:30:53.459-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SR1vMjme07I/AAAAAAAAAGA/0ihwnaeibXA/s1600-h/80087729.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268489400599106482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 330px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 153px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SR1vMjme07I/AAAAAAAAAGA/0ihwnaeibXA/s320/80087729.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tive um vizinho que discutia com a namorada três vezes por semana, e eu ouvia tudo. Não por opção: morava no apartamento abaixo. Aquilo era amor ao choro e á reconciliação.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mas não um ao outro.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dificil saber o que é amor. Mais dificil ainda é saber o que não é .&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Um antigo namorado citou Guimarães Rosa: amor é "descanso e loucura". &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Com ele vivi mais a loucura do que o descanso, mas o aprendizado tem de começar por algum ponto. O vizinho devia estar nesse estagio também. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Com o tempo vi que ele tinha razão ... o antigo namorado, não o vizinho !&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Amor é mesmo aquela sensação de voltar pra casa.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Adormecer lado a lado é a grande prova. No dia seguinte, acordar e sentir que esta levando alguém com vc. Descobrir um sorriso ridiculo no canto da boca. Pronto ! Encaixou. Feito pecinhas de Lego: diferentes mais vindas do mesmo mundo .&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lego é gostoso. Quebra cabeça não .&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Amor não é desejo: é feito de. Amor é feito de amor, mas não só. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Amor não tem razão. Ninguem ama pelas qualidades do outro, nem apesar dos seus defeitos.&lt;br /&gt;Ama por que o outro é o outro e pronto. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Amor é pacote completo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Vc sabe que é amor quando se descobre cúmplice. Quando tem a coragem de se mostrar. E de se ver. O outro é um espelho. Vai encarar ?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Vc sabe que é amor quando se entrega. Mas é melhor guardar algo pra si mesmo. Amor não pode ser só para o outro.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Amor é o exercicio do não ter. Amar e não ter nada em troca. Amor não serve para nada, não garante nada.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Como as boas coisas da vida. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Amor é presença e é falta. Uma não vive sem a outra . &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Amor é liberdade.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;É gostoso saber que o outro com tantas outras opções escolheu vc mais uma vez.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;O que fazer para que amanhã ele faça a mesma escolha ? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mantenha - se distraido ! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Amor é feito de hoje. Da arte de não ter que fazer tudo sempre igual.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Da construção.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Como revestir parede com aquelas pastilhas bem pequenininhas. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No amor é preciso colocar uma por uma, sem presa de ver pronto.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pra mim, é esse o sentido. Menos voraz do que sugere.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mas posso estar errada. Sou amadora. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Amei paredes inteiras. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Quanto mais aprendo, menos sei . Gosto é do aprender. Uma convicção: amor é delicadeza.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Eu sempre quis falar isso pro vizinho.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; Eve por uma converssa que ela nem se lembra mais que tivemos, e que me ajudou mt . Á Ju por uma outra converssa. Ao vizinho em partes. E ao Zé , hoje não existe outra inspiração para escrever qualquer coisa que fale de amor.) &lt;/span&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/2566586238752479880-160798753196975346?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/160798753196975346/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=160798753196975346' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/160798753196975346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/160798753196975346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2008/11/tive-um-vizinho-que-discutia-com.html' title=''/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SR1vMjme07I/AAAAAAAAAGA/0ihwnaeibXA/s72-c/80087729.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-3616042977035537403</id><published>2008-10-24T10:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-24T10:27:49.451-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SQIEabuPmWI/AAAAAAAAAF4/93_36AQVXAc/s1600-h/crianÃ§a.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260772166886988130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SQIEabuPmWI/AAAAAAAAAF4/93_36AQVXAc/s320/crian%C3%A7a.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;...Se o mundo que somos forçados a aceitar é falso e nada é verdadeiro, então, tudo é possivel. No caminho de descobrir o que amamos, vamos encontrar tudo o que odiamos, tudo o que bloqueia o nosso caminho ao que desejamos. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Um questionamento sistemático, da idéia de felicidade .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Talvez seja só eu, contra eu mesmo !&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/2566586238752479880-3616042977035537403?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/3616042977035537403/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=3616042977035537403' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/3616042977035537403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/3616042977035537403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2008/10/eis-que-suge-um-balo-sobre-minha-cabea.html' title=''/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SQIEabuPmWI/AAAAAAAAAF4/93_36AQVXAc/s72-c/crian%C3%A7a.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-5796828634847173364</id><published>2008-10-21T12:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-21T12:47:08.986-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Esse ser, você.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Um prático coração decifravél &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Eu pediria ao invés da sua mão. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;( Nem tão decifravél assim, por favor !)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Esse ser, Você ! &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Me indaga, me inspira.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;E quando parte de mim&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Se faz, Se fundi.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Suspira !&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/2566586238752479880-5796828634847173364?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/5796828634847173364/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=5796828634847173364' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/5796828634847173364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/5796828634847173364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2008/10/esse-ser-voc.html' title='Esse ser, você.'/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-4309028034385295119</id><published>2008-10-21T12:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-21T12:43:06.554-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Um chão, um céu .</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Seguimos sendo somente sós&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tão donos de nós.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nos somando em um caminho.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Com a claridade de mil Sóis.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tão juntos e distantes dos nós,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Seguimos sós, a sós. &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/2566586238752479880-4309028034385295119?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/4309028034385295119/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=4309028034385295119' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/4309028034385295119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/4309028034385295119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2008/10/um-cho-um-cu.html' title='Um chão, um céu .'/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-4410010850874825571</id><published>2008-10-21T12:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-21T12:28:25.726-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hoje...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;o minuto em que eu mais senti a sua  falta...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Foi em cada minuto,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;que somaram 60 minutos,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;e tornaram - se 1 hora...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;que foram 12 horas, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;que se fazem 24 horas.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;Juntam agora, as horas dessa madrugada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Vazia, silenciosa&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;E ainda sem você.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A sensação que se renova a cada segundo, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;é que a visão dos teus olhos...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;uma rápida visão deles. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cessaria as minhas dores.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Enxugaria a minha alma. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nem tão calma agora . &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/2566586238752479880-4410010850874825571?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/4410010850874825571/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=4410010850874825571' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/4410010850874825571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/4410010850874825571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2008/10/hoje.html' title=''/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-8582737743677621356</id><published>2008-09-12T09:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T05:39:24.501-08:00</updated><title type='text'>... um rascunho achado</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/STfaSxo6x4I/AAAAAAAAAHY/ydk9Nl43_ME/s1600-h/aculista.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275925504585287554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 254px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/STfaSxo6x4I/AAAAAAAAAHY/ydk9Nl43_ME/s320/aculista.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Te vejo sem te ver.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Te vejo a todo instante&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Te vejo com os meus olhos abertos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Te sinto com meus olhos fechados&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Te vejo quando olho pra perto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Te vejo longe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Te tenho distante...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Te vejo com o coração apertado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Te vejo mas não posso &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;te ver tanto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Te ver assim é como não ver você &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;“pra mim”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;É como estar no mar e não saber nadar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;É como ver a porta e não poder sair&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Não sei de você&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Menos sei de mim...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Só sei que temo esse meu ver &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;em vão&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;sem saber o quanto é &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;sem acreditar em um “não existir”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Enchergando o inicio&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Sem conseguir ver um fim &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/2566586238752479880-8582737743677621356?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/8582737743677621356/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=8582737743677621356' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/8582737743677621356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/8582737743677621356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2008/09/um-rascunho-achado.html' title='... um rascunho achado'/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/STfaSxo6x4I/AAAAAAAAAHY/ydk9Nl43_ME/s72-c/aculista.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-7852987792493767209</id><published>2008-09-10T07:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-10T07:28:54.810-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A primeira tristeza do dia&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;É a porta que se fecha&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O carro que se vai&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O silêncio que se instala.&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/2566586238752479880-7852987792493767209?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/7852987792493767209/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=7852987792493767209' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/7852987792493767209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/7852987792493767209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2008/09/primeira-tristeza-do-dia-porta-que-se.html' title=''/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-1077617082279926488</id><published>2008-09-04T13:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-05T07:46:49.480-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Previsão do tempo .</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;O tempo, tempo &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SMFDiaDXBSI/AAAAAAAAAFw/5SJ_2sxSA54/s1600-h/castelo_areia.jpg"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242545699623994658" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 254px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 187px" height="186" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SMFDiaDXBSI/AAAAAAAAAFw/5SJ_2sxSA54/s320/castelo_areia.jpg" width="235" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;que faço?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Tempo que me desfaço,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;planos, amores, rancores&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;desfaz o tempo .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Desperto &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Desperta dor .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Tempo passa, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;hora que logo chega.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Tempo que falta,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;dentro da pressa. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Saudade, ânsiedade é tempo . &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Atrasado, ultra - passado,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Tempo de folga, tempo folgado.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Tempo pra rasgar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Tempo pra costurar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Tempo que quero te ouvir,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;há tempos que quero falar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Tempo no relógio, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Tempo lógico.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;sem lógica é ter que depender.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Do tempo ... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Não é o tempo que tenho ? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Tempo certo da música, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;contagem de tempo,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;tenho pra dançar direito. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Tempo pra aprender, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;tempo pra me render, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;tempo pra arder,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;esperar o tempo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Tempo pra amar,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;tempo pra lembrar, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;que á tanto tempo sinto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;o tempo nada apagar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Quanto tempo tenho ? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Que horas são ? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Como está o tempo lá fora ?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Quanto tempo pra noite chegar, mais um dia ir .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;E o tempo, o tempo , o tempo ... não ser só &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;O tempo que perdi . &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&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/2566586238752479880-1077617082279926488?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/1077617082279926488/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=1077617082279926488' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/1077617082279926488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/1077617082279926488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2008/09/previso-do-tempo.html' title='Previsão do tempo .'/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SMFDiaDXBSI/AAAAAAAAAFw/5SJ_2sxSA54/s72-c/castelo_areia.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-3419030589366871819</id><published>2008-08-28T08:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-28T08:57:36.602-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Me cala!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Me toma no abraço apertado,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SLbKB2t3jsI/AAAAAAAAAFo/2yBqTzTScv0/s1600-h/Corpos8.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239597349708730050" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 241px" height="295" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SLbKB2t3jsI/AAAAAAAAAFo/2yBqTzTScv0/s320/Corpos8.jpg" width="235" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Fazendo parte do meu corpo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Beija - me o pescoço, e o agora se faz infinito.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Roça o nariz no meu. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Transforma o meu perfume no seu . &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Toca a ponta dos meus dedos,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Com o mesmo sentido &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;de ser a parte mais intima de mim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Codifica o passeio da língua na minha orelha,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;na poesia mais doce e intensa que já ouvi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Confundo meu braço com o seu, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Nú ... num balé interminavél &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Prazer profundo. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Me induzindo a despertar cada póro,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;me tornando incapaz de dúvidar do talento que possui, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;para desvendar de maneira tão carnal e mesmo tão poética ... cada centimetro meu . &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Enfim, passeia a tua boca em mim até me calar . &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2566586238752479880-3419030589366871819?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/3419030589366871819/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=3419030589366871819' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/3419030589366871819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/3419030589366871819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2008/08/me-cala.html' title='Me cala!'/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SLbKB2t3jsI/AAAAAAAAAFo/2yBqTzTScv0/s72-c/Corpos8.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-7559525031049600216</id><published>2008-08-22T07:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-22T08:02:52.107-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Não explico !</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SK7UhLc78HI/AAAAAAAAAFA/mH25veZEQ9c/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#330033;"&gt;Ando sendo ...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#330033;"&gt;Quando ?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#330033;"&gt;- Sempre ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#330033;"&gt;Até quando ... ando do lado ...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#330033;"&gt;(14/08)&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/2566586238752479880-7559525031049600216?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/7559525031049600216/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=7559525031049600216' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/7559525031049600216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/7559525031049600216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2008/08/no-explico.html' title='Não explico !'/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-3331628827958233281</id><published>2008-08-14T13:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-14T13:23:02.534-07:00</updated><title type='text'>- Me devolva as chaves... Obrigada!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SKSTNyC3CdI/AAAAAAAAAE4/pQ6nlBE0w1I/s1600-h/porta.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;- Não me diga que já vai!&lt;br /&gt;Não me diga que, eu ainda tenho que aprender... A conter minhas expectativas.&lt;br /&gt;Estou acostumada, com esse tipo de despedida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Mas eu ainda prefiro quem é capaz, de assumir a responsabilidade que é ficar aqui!&lt;br /&gt;Frente a frente, lado a lado...&lt;br /&gt;Sem subir pelas paredes&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/2566586238752479880-3331628827958233281?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/3331628827958233281/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=3331628827958233281' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/3331628827958233281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/3331628827958233281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2008/08/me-devolva-as-chaves-obrigada.html' title='- Me devolva as chaves... Obrigada!'/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-5763043822398335012</id><published>2008-08-14T12:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-14T12:35:30.323-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Interminavel desacordo materno !</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Estou completamente, absurdamente, com os pensamentos &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SKSH4Slm2lI/AAAAAAAAAEw/BinTjkTmMUQ/s1600-h/gravida%20copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234458068043356754" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 180px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 236px" height="281" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SKSH4Slm2lI/AAAAAAAAAEw/BinTjkTmMUQ/s320/gravida%2520copy.jpg" width="217" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;encharcados de maus dizeres. Pra que essa insistência de pregar apenas os meus erros, a cada novo motivo?&lt;br /&gt;Após uma tarde extremamente agradável, você me diz que preciso ir dormir cedo... Porque você quer fechar as portas.&lt;br /&gt;- Perai... Eu sei fechar as portas, pode ir se deitar!&lt;br /&gt;- Ah, mas você não dá 2 voltas na chave...&lt;br /&gt;- Eu deixei de dar uma volta só, a partir do dia em que você reclamou a primeira vez.&lt;br /&gt;- Você precisa me ajudar mais, organizar melhor as suas coisas.&lt;br /&gt;- Mais? Mas elas estão organizadas pra mim, eu me acho. Eu não me acho quando você ás organiza. Ah, e pra você saber não é favor nenhum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estou sozinha agora, silêncio, ah o silêncio!!&lt;br /&gt;Penso: Nossa que torneira apertada, Agrrrr!!&lt;br /&gt;Queria te acordar com o mesmo discurso seu, quando me diz que não preciso apertar tanto a torneira por que estraga e blá blá blá.&lt;br /&gt;Você apertou como eu jamais conseguiria...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posso te prometer que vou estar aqui.&lt;br /&gt;Só quero em troca que você se permita, que você se sinta em estrada desconhecida cheia de curvas. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Viva mais pra você!&lt;br /&gt;Não quero deixa – la falando só, mas por favor ...&lt;br /&gt;Respeite a minha cama desarrumada, meus CDs fora do lugar, meu livros espalhados pela casa... Minhas rodinhas nos pés.&lt;br /&gt;Solte a minha mão... Segure - me pela alma, e me diga volte sempre, até breve.&lt;br /&gt;Somos arco e flecha. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;E mãe me escuta, eu não te deixo em pensamento. &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/2566586238752479880-5763043822398335012?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/5763043822398335012/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=5763043822398335012' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/5763043822398335012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/5763043822398335012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2008/08/interminavel-desacordo-materno.html' title='Interminavel desacordo materno !'/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SKSH4Slm2lI/AAAAAAAAAEw/BinTjkTmMUQ/s72-c/gravida%2520copy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-8600509004830500856</id><published>2008-08-04T08:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T15:53:58.073-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Enquanto houver vírgulas.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SJc8ANoWIKI/AAAAAAAAAEo/k-mYHbK7ga0/s1600-h/maos%20juntas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230715466570670242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 381px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 235px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="223" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SJc8ANoWIKI/AAAAAAAAAEo/k-mYHbK7ga0/s320/maos%2520juntas.jpg" width="347" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Aqui sentado eu olhando esse frio monitor plano&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;...me transporto parao mais próximo do plano teu.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;E vejo as luzes mais estranhas que poderia ver&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;...além de fora... também dentro do meu ser...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Ouço música Celta e rio, como uma criança&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Me debruço, me deito fazendo de travesseiro os devaneios meus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Será que são os devaneios seus ?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Me perco, me acho ...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;E aqui nessa cadeira me desfaço&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Caso palavras, no desejo de um beijo demorado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;E domorado fica um pensamento só&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;talvez um plano teu, que mesmo em outro plano se junta ao meu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Transcodifica o universo num só verso&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;E um sorriso largo me torna&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;A pessoa menos triste do mundo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;certo da certeza de estar perto, sem estar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Viva a internet !&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;José Luiz&lt;/span&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&amp;amp;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Milena Pontes&lt;/span&gt; - 03/ agosto / 08&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;==================================&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; - obrigada pela INspiração entre tantos outros IN'S que possue.&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/2566586238752479880-8600509004830500856?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/8600509004830500856/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=8600509004830500856' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/8600509004830500856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/8600509004830500856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2008/08/enquanto-houver-vrgulas.html' title='Enquanto houver vírgulas.'/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SJc8ANoWIKI/AAAAAAAAAEo/k-mYHbK7ga0/s72-c/maos%2520juntas.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-6179809374497670584</id><published>2008-07-28T13:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T15:53:58.322-08:00</updated><title type='text'>é ... por que é !</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SI4zRwxiG8I/AAAAAAAAAEg/Y5lVE0Cxmxg/s1600-h/Heart.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228172597667175362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SI4zRwxiG8I/AAAAAAAAAEg/Y5lVE0Cxmxg/s320/Heart.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SI4yyImWJTI/AAAAAAAAAEY/7PGOt1GpGr4/s1600-h/Heart.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Tenho medo do tempo que levo , vezes do tempo que me leva. Mesmo depois que já acho que me conheço.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Vou guardando os conselhos no bolso, vivendo momentos de anestesia... talvez quem vê de fora, veja melhor!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Prefiro ir me jogando no mundo, jogando comigo e não com ninguém... pode ser perigoso demais, e não me satisfaz.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Seguir com frio na barriga, a cara quebrada e a alma lavada; por que só saíra daqui o que é meu - aquilo que vivi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Aquilo que vou viver. É o que me vale de verdade.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Gosto da total disritmia que há em mim, entre a cabeça e o coração, que por fim me rendem histórias de risos e como não ... cicatrizes. O importante é não tentar reabri -las . &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;A mesma dor por duas vezes não, e isso sei que só de mim depende. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;- Bora sair pra um lugar diferente, ver outros umbigos... quem não se recicla vira cover de si mesmo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;O &lt;strong&gt;eu&lt;/strong&gt; de todo dia é pericível demais ...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;18 de Junhop de 1988 - Geminiana - caracteristica "MUTABILIDADE" - isso as vezes me é irritante. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&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/2566586238752479880-6179809374497670584?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/6179809374497670584/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=6179809374497670584' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/6179809374497670584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/6179809374497670584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2008/07/por-que.html' title='é ... por que é !'/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SI4zRwxiG8I/AAAAAAAAAEg/Y5lVE0Cxmxg/s72-c/Heart.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-4968350850704232065</id><published>2008-07-10T08:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T15:53:58.519-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tal qual borboleta q saiu do casulo.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SHZP1OLO1mI/AAAAAAAAADw/QaNa-6QYOCg/s1600-h/6_casulo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221448593739535970" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 187px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 232px" height="200" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SHZP1OLO1mI/AAAAAAAAADw/QaNa-6QYOCg/s200/6_casulo.jpg" width="187" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- Sono, pressão na caneta, alma tranquila.&lt;br /&gt;Atenção ao que realmente me da prazer, me faz ser meu mundo ...inteiro.&lt;br /&gt;O que me faz dormir direito é saber que tenho com o que sonhar.&lt;br /&gt;O caminho é maior do que vejo; levantei a cabeça, to me vestindo de EU mesma!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Muito prazer. Sorte ou azar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To aprendendo a lapidar as pedras que encontro.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Admito que fugi por muito tempo, mas certos planos sempre me regaram... me regam.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E já é tempo de crescer e de admiti - los em mim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pois é .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sonho que se sonha só - não se cria . &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;É festa na prisão.&lt;br /&gt;E eu ja andava sem sentido, era tudo só palavras sabe?&lt;br /&gt;Mas agora é movimento .... surto e músicas.&lt;br /&gt;Poesia calada, oração muda, isso não dá pra fazer por ninguém.&lt;br /&gt;É por mim e reticências, é meu/minha AR ... TE .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Como diria F. Pessoa: ... Viver não é preciso, Criar é preciso.&lt;br /&gt;Quem cria vive, e continua vivendo depois de viver e ver tudo, e quem vai entender ??&lt;br /&gt;Melhor mesmo não entender nada, ficamos mais livres para sentir né !&lt;br /&gt;... eu só entendo que eu quero assim, bem vivo em mim, sentido de ser e estar, sem pressa de chegar, sem pretensão de ser algo além de corpo e mente sã, e pra que mais ?&lt;br /&gt;Precisava dizer que estou transbordando em mim... ufa !&lt;br /&gt;To imensamente feliz tal qual borboleta que saiu do casulo..... mas continuo com sono !&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/2566586238752479880-4968350850704232065?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/4968350850704232065/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=4968350850704232065' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/4968350850704232065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/4968350850704232065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2008/07/sono-presso-na-caneta-alma-tranquila.html' title='Tal qual borboleta q saiu do casulo.'/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SHZP1OLO1mI/AAAAAAAAADw/QaNa-6QYOCg/s72-c/6_casulo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-5999025581898586185</id><published>2008-07-03T12:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T15:53:58.611-08:00</updated><title type='text'>...meu peito aberto.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SG0rAxXVU0I/AAAAAAAAADk/qcPxUGrEZc0/s1600-h/Ceueflor.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218874835443471170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 348px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 159px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="150" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SG0rAxXVU0I/AAAAAAAAADk/qcPxUGrEZc0/s200/Ceueflor.jpg" width="269" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Há um nó em nós.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Há um nó em mim, que não desata, e eu não quero desatar .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Você não o desfez... então fique como está. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Há algo aqui dentro que você deixou pra mim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Há uma memoria, de conversas na calçada... que nunca vai apagar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Há uma música que fala de amor,&lt;br /&gt;sem presença fisica, que nunca irá parar de tocar. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Há sempre lagrimas a cair, quando a saudade me toma.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Há um pedido profundo de perdão; um suspiro e um beijo guardado.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Há um coração inquieto, com palavras de desespero e gritos contra o tempo que eu sei &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;- não vai voltar!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Há um milhão de linhas a serem escritas, que explicariam ao mundo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;como me sinto sem você . &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Há um amor que possui mil formas mas, é sempre amor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Há uma consciência tentando entender o porque da sua partida.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;O porque de anjos voltarem ao céu. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Há mãos que se juntam todas as noites para orar por você, por mim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;por nós ... pelo nó que me engasga, e pelo nó que há em nós.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;(04 / 12/2005) - o dia em que conheci a consequência do depois...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;te amo.&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/2566586238752479880-5999025581898586185?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/5999025581898586185/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=5999025581898586185' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/5999025581898586185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/5999025581898586185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2008/07/h-um-n-em-ns.html' title='...meu peito aberto.'/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SG0rAxXVU0I/AAAAAAAAADk/qcPxUGrEZc0/s72-c/Ceueflor.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-9169505438537120128</id><published>2008-07-02T08:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T15:53:58.786-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cuspindo pro alto.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SGuroyRuGgI/AAAAAAAAADc/DH1zvCHzsG0/s1600-h/impaciÃªncia.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218453310418065922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 290px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="200" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SGuroyRuGgI/AAAAAAAAADc/DH1zvCHzsG0/s200/impaci%C3%AAncia.jpg" width="223" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- Dificil adimitir que tantas vezes perdi a razão, perdia noção, por alguém que bem sei - Anda mais perdido que eu!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pequenas partes não me interessam, não quero, nunca quiz metade.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não convém, não preenche; e eu não tenho vontades ao meio, a vontade é toda minha - e age por mim.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quando me falta, retomo ainda melhor mais auto - suficiente, e me divirto como criança boba assistindo á tuas delisões, ilusões, em cada vírgula, devaneios a cada jura de amor "dela" por um amor que , bem sei - não existe.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O melhor de todas as lembranças, é a que tenho de cada segundo atrás, da certeza de que por mais que veja seu lindo flerte de amor - não me causa nada !!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Minto !&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Até o que nada causa, causa inspiração rs .&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E é só por isso que tenho a te agradecer.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não... na verdade, você é quem tem a me agradecer, afinal foi mais de um minuto pensando em você.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&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/2566586238752479880-9169505438537120128?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/9169505438537120128/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=9169505438537120128' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/9169505438537120128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/9169505438537120128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2008/07/cuspindo-pro-alto.html' title='Cuspindo pro alto.'/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SGuroyRuGgI/AAAAAAAAADc/DH1zvCHzsG0/s72-c/impaci%C3%AAncia.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-1403399635761239940</id><published>2008-07-01T08:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T15:53:58.950-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"Tarde de intolerância e caneta na mão."</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Eu quero menos ego,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SGpRwRvYpuI/AAAAAAAAADM/gim7FfefVT4/s1600-h/Luto.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218073008099862242" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SGpRwRvYpuI/AAAAAAAAADM/gim7FfefVT4/s200/Luto.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;mais atenção.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Menos "EU SEI", e mais achismos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Mais humildade para entender que a consequênciade erro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;tbm pode ser um acerto. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Pessoas "bolhas de sabão",&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;por mais bonitas que sejam...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;são vazias por dentro, e um dia &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;estouram, meu bem !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Petulância acumula,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;e um dia toma conta.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;- já que a convivência é obrigatoria,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;me obrigo a sentir pena, sabe como é,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;é o q nos resta sentir de pessoas pequenas demais .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Há algo que me faz lamentar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Saber que apesar da nossa diferença de idade &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;(até que uma conversa comece)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Você não cresceu. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;- é lamentavél, mas muito engraçado te ver assim . &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Minha paciência está de luto !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"Uma pessoa sábia, não tenta mudar a mente de um ignorante." &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(li em algum lugar ñ lembro onde, nem quem escreveu)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&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/2566586238752479880-1403399635761239940?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/1403399635761239940/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=1403399635761239940' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/1403399635761239940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/1403399635761239940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2008/07/tarde-de-intolerncia-e-caneta-na-mo.html' title='&quot;Tarde de intolerância e caneta na mão.&quot;'/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SGpRwRvYpuI/AAAAAAAAADM/gim7FfefVT4/s72-c/Luto.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-8530407151784380398</id><published>2008-06-27T13:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T15:53:59.152-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Que permaneça longe, quem longe está !</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SGVW074gW4I/AAAAAAAAADE/PCQ6z1XKuO8/s1600-h/estrada.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216671210806467458" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 384px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 404px" height="320" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SGVW074gW4I/AAAAAAAAADE/PCQ6z1XKuO8/s320/estrada.jpg" width="340" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Até ontem pensei em poesia &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;pra compor você&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;explicar você.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E me explicar !&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Desparafuzei - me em memórias&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;lembrei de filmes, musicas, versos&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;frases em francês e italiano.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Qualquer fragmento "nosso"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;era inspiração.... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Algo que rime com o teu nome&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Te trago" - rima com o teu nome,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;poderia começar assim.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Porém, bem vindos a realidade&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;encontrei os pontos finais que me engasgavam.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Enquanto eu "te trago" amor&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;você me traga (tragava)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Leva (levava) &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;o que eu tinha de melhor,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;as mais lindas palavras&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;pagas e apagadas&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;pelas mais lindas mentiras . &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Parabéns pelo ator que és. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Temos de conhecer para dizer não . &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E eu conheço,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;conheço cada virgula, cada veia.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E eu não quero. Não Obrigada!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;De que valem lindos olhos &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;que não sabem olhar pra frente ?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Vida sua que em nada me atrai.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nada que te faça entrar na minha (de novo). &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Não Obrigada!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Quem dá voltas e trai o que diz,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;nunca é feliz, não tem equilibrio.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Diga a verdade a quem gosta de você;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;e não a quem você acha que gosta.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nunca se sabe de que lado pode doer mais; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ou fazer cócegas.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nunca se sabe quem pode ser &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;sua cama elástica, quando o trapezio&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;sem mais, nem menos despencar.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;... não obrigada . Não será eu !&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&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;strong&gt;&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;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&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/2566586238752479880-8530407151784380398?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/8530407151784380398/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=8530407151784380398' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/8530407151784380398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/8530407151784380398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2008/06/que-permanea-longe-quem-longe-est.html' title='Que permaneça longe, quem longe está !'/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SGVW074gW4I/AAAAAAAAADE/PCQ6z1XKuO8/s72-c/estrada.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-6620324419033804776</id><published>2008-06-25T18:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T15:53:59.312-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sobre a Fada  - divisora de conta sanguinea ....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SGK62_87UKI/AAAAAAAAAAo/sPDJx5vcHiM/s1600-h/ATgAAABqRQfNUtU0HaebDyPK2GMTf_isxhjWW3eGPHQDLzOTSVyrx-tTWeK4jGzRXtfnaLf_LwzeuLy_slgTNuG9IsGxAJtU9VDbgMHDmm5DbogXx96-otT0_H7TAw.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215936772491137186" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SGK62_87UKI/AAAAAAAAAAo/sPDJx5vcHiM/s400/ATgAAABqRQfNUtU0HaebDyPK2GMTf_isxhjWW3eGPHQDLzOTSVyrx-tTWeK4jGzRXtfnaLf_LwzeuLy_slgTNuG9IsGxAJtU9VDbgMHDmm5DbogXx96-otT0_H7TAw.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Se faz meu universso, mesmo um tanto quanto inverso&lt;br /&gt;na forma de ser, reverso&lt;br /&gt;me faz inteira, ajudando a me encontrar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Em forma de gente, segue a sina&lt;br /&gt;conspirando e inspirando amor verdadeiro&lt;br /&gt;em mim.&lt;br /&gt;Amor que se consolida, só com o&lt;br /&gt;teu sorrir,no existir&lt;br /&gt;na tua maneira&lt;br /&gt;única - de ser e estar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Se faz do tamanho do céu, meu bem querer,&lt;br /&gt;de te ver bem, fazer bem , e ficar bem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;És persistência, força e graça!&lt;br /&gt;Solida, segura,sensata.&lt;br /&gt;Amavél, nem um tanto maleavél.&lt;br /&gt;Humor instavél.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É o exemplo, não demora sem chão.&lt;br /&gt;é a irmã mais alta,&lt;br /&gt;não mais que a falta que me traz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É o "S" de &lt;strong&gt;Si&lt;/strong&gt;, "S" maiúsculo em&lt;br /&gt;SER .&lt;br /&gt;Ser mãe, amiga, &lt;strong&gt;irmã&lt;/strong&gt; e mulher .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ser FADA de alma clara,&lt;br /&gt;que cria e ensina&lt;br /&gt;com leveza a alma pequenina fonte de amor&lt;br /&gt;que por dentro grande já é.&lt;br /&gt;Já são...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nomes em minhas orações, sempre!&lt;br /&gt;*Bons ventos para nós.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2566586238752479880-6620324419033804776?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/6620324419033804776/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=6620324419033804776' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/6620324419033804776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/6620324419033804776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2008/06/sobre-fada-divisora-de-conta-sanguinea.html' title='Sobre a Fada  - divisora de conta sanguinea ....'/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SGK62_87UKI/AAAAAAAAAAo/sPDJx5vcHiM/s72-c/ATgAAABqRQfNUtU0HaebDyPK2GMTf_isxhjWW3eGPHQDLzOTSVyrx-tTWeK4jGzRXtfnaLf_LwzeuLy_slgTNuG9IsGxAJtU9VDbgMHDmm5DbogXx96-otT0_H7TAw.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-269839061497418861</id><published>2008-06-25T14:53:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-25T14:53:53.720-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2566586238752479880-269839061497418861?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/269839061497418861/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=269839061497418861' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/269839061497418861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/269839061497418861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2008/06/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2566586238752479880.post-7600689130066082668</id><published>2008-06-25T10:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T15:53:59.791-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pra Começar...</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215872988420940898" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 673px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 232px" height="271" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SGKA2RxipGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/qTfWejkFwJo/s320/letras-blog.jpg" width="328" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;- Dizem que a cada novo aniverssário encerramos e iniciamos um novo ciclo. Neste (uma semana atrás) decidi começar o 2.0 blogando, por incentivo de alguns amigos, e sem duvida por motivo maior da ascenção dessa minha paixão de ler, escrever e pensar .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;- Aqui estou !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;- Com meus flertes e flashes (e alguns poemas) que ocorrem a todo instante, toda forma de manisfestação será bem vinda, com a certeza de que se cada individuo nasceu com uma cabeça para si .... tão logo pertence a cada um a forma de usa -la, ou não usa -la.&lt;br /&gt;- Espero que o conteúdo exposto incomode, acomode, acrescente algo .... Não quero escrever pra criar bolhas nos dedos, tão pouco quebrar as unhas... Então !!!&lt;br /&gt;Obrigada á todos que serão bem vindos !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Milena Pontes &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&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/2566586238752479880-7600689130066082668?l=abramaspas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/feeds/7600689130066082668/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2566586238752479880&amp;postID=7600689130066082668' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/7600689130066082668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2566586238752479880/posts/default/7600689130066082668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abramaspas.blogspot.com/2008/06/pra-comer.html' title='Pra Começar...'/><author><name>Milena Pontes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13615568061597437815</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p3Vu1kufjfw/Ts-fTOjKkaI/AAAAAAAAAKY/APeHvsh95FY/s220/o-matic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_e_D8SEtDb88/SGKA2RxipGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/qTfWejkFwJo/s72-c/letras-blog.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
