tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17733933471190604712024-03-18T16:58:11.031-03:00! Intimidades da Curiosa Curiosa da Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17907320447288528424noreply@blogger.comBlogger428125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-77370608248261002052017-01-18T18:27:00.002-02:002019-03-16T10:29:48.706-03:00por que a Escrevente tem um nó na garganta<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
profano versus profano<br />
<br />
minha língua é minha sina<br />
aonde eu entro muitos saem<br />
para entrar no meu poço, alto preço<br />
e o que há de ser<br />
nasce na garganta, no tempo<br />
da minha palavra<br />
<br />
(Curiosa)Curiosa da Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17907320447288528424noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-90784256856985145022017-01-10T21:24:00.001-02:002017-04-23T14:59:27.012-03:00pr que a Escrevente canta a vida dura<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH3vnEgLN9vaOomP6IJqx4PTEFIzcxj0J7BrKCDxbrG4uHigUw9Op3fohwBMx3sa3spnIygy8aI0uA-QldaATZDU984c_5btRIDs6X9Q9KYOjyMDcvrXNhMtLfoCvBX7zXeafoudT7TPQL/s1600/15873594_253260191761480_8247881314897644076_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH3vnEgLN9vaOomP6IJqx4PTEFIzcxj0J7BrKCDxbrG4uHigUw9Op3fohwBMx3sa3spnIygy8aI0uA-QldaATZDU984c_5btRIDs6X9Q9KYOjyMDcvrXNhMtLfoCvBX7zXeafoudT7TPQL/s400/15873594_253260191761480_8247881314897644076_n.jpg" width="307" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">canto a vida</span><br />
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_587569b61bc8b7d47072378" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;">
no poema.<br />
sorvo-a<br />
nas indefiníveis<br />
nuances perecíveis<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;"><br />da língua<br />entrelaçadas com o rubro<br />do meu sangue<br />faminto.<br />faminta vida.<br />sorvo-a<br />no estreito dos meus ossos:<br />a vida crua<br />no poema vivo.</span></div>
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(Curiosa)</div>
Curiosa da Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17907320447288528424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-61363790193019637752017-01-07T13:48:00.000-02:002017-05-02T12:52:57.584-03:00por que a Escrevente já recebeu alguns nãos<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFQW1T56gzB0Rs2FLbCoavmbMB6GfcuqGF8EXWRGBv7T7ZZkpH85caCGHqbZaiNeLm_FY5aY_8AbTAqeKVrUSDit4OQt5tg96juX8UTeL7y0tRohs40gpcUVB8V-L6rVylhCfmCJreuv3d/s1600/chan_dung_sieu_thuc_15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFQW1T56gzB0Rs2FLbCoavmbMB6GfcuqGF8EXWRGBv7T7ZZkpH85caCGHqbZaiNeLm_FY5aY_8AbTAqeKVrUSDit4OQt5tg96juX8UTeL7y0tRohs40gpcUVB8V-L6rVylhCfmCJreuv3d/s320/chan_dung_sieu_thuc_15.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
QUANDO ME DIZES NÃO<br />
<br />
teus gestos<br />
eram minha vida<br />
tua vontada<br />
meu ânimo<br />
minha ânima meu ânimus<br />
miha alma<br />
quando me dizes não<br />
sorves a vida debaixo<br />
da terra<br />
<br />
(Curiosa)</div>
Curiosa da Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17907320447288528424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-542535380942741812017-01-06T14:10:00.002-02:002017-01-06T14:10:24.916-02:00por que a Escrevente sente sua duplicidade<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQbJkhgLj0ChqWO4jAG0ME4qZcH3WRea48tylPlB3aVuMoT0LUN2wzBdIqBPBaXZwktWD6JtY0_qMqs72f5RDzDOARGsbtGJfI8E2bE4qEoR10hti_9BPvPfSEDQ-eXtfs5mQc93i0CGp7/s1600/107w3s9.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQbJkhgLj0ChqWO4jAG0ME4qZcH3WRea48tylPlB3aVuMoT0LUN2wzBdIqBPBaXZwktWD6JtY0_qMqs72f5RDzDOARGsbtGJfI8E2bE4qEoR10hti_9BPvPfSEDQ-eXtfs5mQc93i0CGp7/s400/107w3s9.png" width="313" /></a></div>
RETRATO<br />
<br />
meu rosto<br />
rio de murmúrios<br />
vida de descoros<br />
no dito da palavra<br />
rígido como a pedra<br />
meu rosto<br />
poço de conceitos<br />
na página em branco<br />
do livro da vida<br />
rígido como a pedra<br />
<br />
(Curiosa)Curiosa da Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17907320447288528424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-56064971635819683862016-12-28T14:49:00.001-02:002017-01-06T14:12:19.518-02:00por que a Escrevente sente sua dualidade<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5MQAm2wPiAGkinbr1uiqp4dvj8FewSFaZpgU_S1jwVxREXan7GIBRUk0J-GZNbHfc0qf78pyOynzuXwWyTffYw4hFLVSOWoQxbr_Vuz6T39OTH0oAyOTSVbFWwLnM4lXchpa1WACsvNwp/s1600/crossdresser.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5MQAm2wPiAGkinbr1uiqp4dvj8FewSFaZpgU_S1jwVxREXan7GIBRUk0J-GZNbHfc0qf78pyOynzuXwWyTffYw4hFLVSOWoQxbr_Vuz6T39OTH0oAyOTSVbFWwLnM4lXchpa1WACsvNwp/s640/crossdresser.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
RETRATOS<br />
<br />
não me suponhas em mim<br />
não me olhes nos olhos<br />
dos retratos<br />
antigos<br />
<br />
toda minha faceirice<br />
toda minha vaidade<br />
isenta<br />
<br />
aquela que nunca foi vista<br />
no meu rosto de poesia<br />
<div>
</div>
<div>
(Curiosa)</div>
Curiosa da Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17907320447288528424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-67322657218352786722016-12-27T16:22:00.000-02:002016-12-27T16:22:11.612-02:00por que a Escrevente ficou sem título<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgDORW7OjWAgNDZB070lu9hwNJr58X6hxA8xPvxZYDSLuqaECS_UmnVEcgJp_KDVxrOk-ZoMoh9uyRiUH2fjfW_d1d-n-JAHw11qMOyBE0luSX-qTc7qZY3F6gxsjqgeQPaVu1GRnjRy1n/s1600/tumblr_oc9yg738Cq1tld953o1_540.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgDORW7OjWAgNDZB070lu9hwNJr58X6hxA8xPvxZYDSLuqaECS_UmnVEcgJp_KDVxrOk-ZoMoh9uyRiUH2fjfW_d1d-n-JAHw11qMOyBE0luSX-qTc7qZY3F6gxsjqgeQPaVu1GRnjRy1n/s1600/tumblr_oc9yg738Cq1tld953o1_540.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
GOZO II<br />
<br />
olho no olho<br />
meu pensamento<br />
na tua mão<br />
<br />
pele na pele<br />
suor no suor<br />
<br />
teu corpo<br />
inqueito<br />
me abre<br />
em poemas<br />
<br />
(Curiosa)Curiosa da Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17907320447288528424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-82159544571955878332016-12-20T11:36:00.000-02:002016-12-20T11:36:07.610-02:00porque a Escrevente sente a Egrégora de Natal<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lkcDz12xUK8/TQyjRFvL4UI/AAAAAAAADZg/34zijHRlnR8/s1600/Pai_natal_sexy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
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ainda não saímos do <i>olho por olho, dente por dente ...</i><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
ainda não damos a outra face ... com dificuldade, perdoamos uma vez ...<br />
imagine perdoar setenta vezes setenta ... ainda reagimos à violência com violência ...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
(mesmo depois de Gandhi)</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
mas ... em Tempos Natalinos, a egrégora do Planeta muda ...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
enviamos boas energias ao próximo ... todos se reúnem em família ...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
perdoamos e somos perdoados ... trocamos presentes em festas</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
e eventos, realizados somente para compartilhar a presença do outro ...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
todas essas atividades apresentam uma energia positiva e construtiva ...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
o importante do Natal é sentir ... partilhando e compartilhando<br />
da Egrégora positiva que se estabelece ...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Feliz Natal !<br />
<br />
...</div>
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Curiosa da Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17907320447288528424noreply@blogger.com70tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-47534209151765948672016-12-18T18:13:00.001-02:002016-12-27T15:32:36.950-02:00por que a Escrevente pensa em sexo<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtKNd4N9bBWLhARWktMEYx_OiG2FiMmI1l_EGBds617Oc-CUlPk2FskOyMtfzl4qnAvdBARx2gjx-6NRB1wxJBM_-DAXd_BCGfZzzKJmsmrIG1WuLR5LwN1ik9VZRWbyvINjzTaApZRMgP/s1600/and-beauty-boy-couple-Favim.com-3623021.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtKNd4N9bBWLhARWktMEYx_OiG2FiMmI1l_EGBds617Oc-CUlPk2FskOyMtfzl4qnAvdBARx2gjx-6NRB1wxJBM_-DAXd_BCGfZzzKJmsmrIG1WuLR5LwN1ik9VZRWbyvINjzTaApZRMgP/s1600/and-beauty-boy-couple-Favim.com-3623021.png" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
GOZO</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
o corpo nu</div>
<div>
a alma em branco</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
a mão trêmula</div>
<div>
lábios úmidos</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
no peito, cavalarias</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
(Curiosa da Vida)<br />
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Curiosa da Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17907320447288528424noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-67362804417533784772016-12-14T15:35:00.001-02:002018-09-10T12:13:20.456-03:00por que a Escrevente se aventura em novos mundos<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPR_5T7jotQjUAS8aj1I6CAiB3BBRlvQavINBqp7tVKyc1wOuRtdFynkNsx0KZm1LTK7r6C2LNKBgngUv2YNeCeMJYNfDKavAddGeDymRsMOK-MdIpZm1RIIbs1IiLOQMjcSclQt7lZH7_/s1600/1+%252880%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPR_5T7jotQjUAS8aj1I6CAiB3BBRlvQavINBqp7tVKyc1wOuRtdFynkNsx0KZm1LTK7r6C2LNKBgngUv2YNeCeMJYNfDKavAddGeDymRsMOK-MdIpZm1RIIbs1IiLOQMjcSclQt7lZH7_/s1600/1+%252880%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
onde eu te quero<br />
<br />
é um mundo de entrega<br />
devoção<br />
confiança<br />
submissão<br />
<br />
onde só a rainha<br />
tem a coroaCuriosa da Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17907320447288528424noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-68021699899136153942016-10-03T18:04:00.001-03:002016-10-03T18:07:30.606-03:00por que a Escrevente renasceu<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiODQyTPoxYLMKdTPZj6Bmeqhk9MoNEvuSut1vi6xUMm6dsZkxZumwB-EsHlze6tKaPNd8BHPU1G9pHpoyKr-IzKyaTBxutFFPSMvlTpETDLXTZ94woQJI4zu1WFM5e1JzEMJamxErqCZQ/s1600/i.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiODQyTPoxYLMKdTPZj6Bmeqhk9MoNEvuSut1vi6xUMm6dsZkxZumwB-EsHlze6tKaPNd8BHPU1G9pHpoyKr-IzKyaTBxutFFPSMvlTpETDLXTZ94woQJI4zu1WFM5e1JzEMJamxErqCZQ/s320/i.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
RENASCIMENTO<br />
<br />
da loucura<br />
veio ela<br />
sóbria-louca<br />
de vida etérea<br />
aprender<br />
mais<br />
o que era<br />
incorpórea<br />
matéria<br />
<br />
(Curiosa da Vida)<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Rosélihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13591675591698640527noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-17188606380610703072016-07-02T16:23:00.001-03:002016-07-14T21:32:39.590-03:00por que a Escrevente precisa se amar<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFQb0JeChJ8_m85rsJwKePBMK5Wa6RBpIxgTeQFm4YgIBLH9TPDjlXm-qRflR2kDmj9jjUjDYtiCWlgZw7H5aIzS4D42jijSdlhprTvK_ejSIeDxwMwnxsZQ7ul6ILrTd0_nijW2plJje9/s1600/queria+amar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFQb0JeChJ8_m85rsJwKePBMK5Wa6RBpIxgTeQFm4YgIBLH9TPDjlXm-qRflR2kDmj9jjUjDYtiCWlgZw7H5aIzS4D42jijSdlhprTvK_ejSIeDxwMwnxsZQ7ul6ILrTd0_nijW2plJje9/s640/queria+amar.jpg" width="425" /></a></div>
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RESPOSTA A UM PEDIDO DE NAMORO </div>
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queria amar</div>
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mas mal amava</div>
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o que de si distinguia</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
queria amar</div>
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mas o seu amor</div>
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em poemas se partia</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
queria escrever</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
mas de amor</div>
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o poema lhe morria</div>
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<br /></div>
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queria morrer</div>
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mas um poema entrevia</div>
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(um poema de amor</div>
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que de amar a impedia)</div>
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queria amar</div>
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mas mal amava</div>
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o que de si distinguia</div>
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(<a href="https://www.facebook.com/da.curiosa/" target="_blank">Curiosa da Vida</a>)Curiosa da Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17907320447288528424noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-11532877524489077772016-04-06T10:18:00.002-03:002016-04-06T11:47:42.505-03:00por que a Escrevente vislumbra possibilidade de vida no horizonte<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg47wagkmKSSOc6aXWb2x4n8i6NUviRAC2tUX-e80giHLAx44ykLBqmS5Ji-eE_G5LFe-2817ewleMWc9e0TY_wOywpnZoeCDErprSOI22Y5ZML6cP4c-uyKcrZCpwmk4s630b-jmkW7hA/s1600/jung.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg47wagkmKSSOc6aXWb2x4n8i6NUviRAC2tUX-e80giHLAx44ykLBqmS5Ji-eE_G5LFe-2817ewleMWc9e0TY_wOywpnZoeCDErprSOI22Y5ZML6cP4c-uyKcrZCpwmk4s630b-jmkW7hA/s320/jung.jpg" width="228" /></a></div>
amor<br />
tece dor? - não!<br />
<br />
amor<br />
amortecedor<br />
da dor<br />
do amor<br />
<br />
amor<br />
tece amor<br />
amor tecedor<br />
..<br />
* é possível amar, depois de amar ...<br />
<br />Rosélihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13591675591698640527noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-31462506348284172412015-03-12T21:16:00.000-03:002016-04-06T11:21:31.033-03:00porque a Escrevente sente a Morte, a Vida e o Poema - vez em quando<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
NOTA DE FALECIMENTO<br />
<br />
teve vasculhadas as gavetas<br />
desvendados os segredos <br />
despidos os versos<br />
<br />
nua, por fim - percebeu<br />
estava morta<br />
<br />
morta-viva<br />
na fenda do tempo habitado de si<br />
<br />
(passeavam as moscas)<br />
<br />
o corpo - as coisas as moscas<br />
- a vida - seguia sem ela<br />
no poema<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/Curiosa.daCuriosa" target="_blank">Curiosa da Vida</a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0j-Ga5bFPzQrjng839htfBSXzyXV-M1SeioLaoMsS3bShTdEMc0CYZyELP1T35uAhd09r6ErTy8Hu5GAJ84BHeUK2WR0cPOiBoBW83UkSGQKbDb5u_odu1mtzBtlSUUksG0_kp8nMHtVr/s1600/050.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0j-Ga5bFPzQrjng839htfBSXzyXV-M1SeioLaoMsS3bShTdEMc0CYZyELP1T35uAhd09r6ErTy8Hu5GAJ84BHeUK2WR0cPOiBoBW83UkSGQKbDb5u_odu1mtzBtlSUUksG0_kp8nMHtVr/s1600/050.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fotografia de Ramsés Albertoni</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
Curiosa da Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17907320447288528424noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-77850736288806725772015-02-26T22:46:00.000-03:002015-03-14T13:22:38.294-03:00porque só por hoje, a Escrevente ...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipWZpiosq_5nt35zGQJddSAAWFxgH3lQtGBDqRCLHUv52rLGLVt5jdl3Sg67fz8aa-rS1IwG-mkyKhnbk9IffKDA9axPztP510-90gS-c3eQG4BPmIJJA7dZqboblikAZH-HZcFc6sbXPO/s1600/penitencia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipWZpiosq_5nt35zGQJddSAAWFxgH3lQtGBDqRCLHUv52rLGLVt5jdl3Sg67fz8aa-rS1IwG-mkyKhnbk9IffKDA9axPztP510-90gS-c3eQG4BPmIJJA7dZqboblikAZH-HZcFc6sbXPO/s1600/penitencia.jpg" /></a></div>
Curiosa da Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17907320447288528424noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-39064967266903427082015-02-26T22:44:00.001-03:002015-03-12T21:16:31.899-03:00porque a Escrevente está presa em si mesma<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6eUlE0_0j6-CVBIcYtWwLqdG8Xf-8tusZ06lmYa4yUMvFXzGqGHt5ydAkfD4sIQ8CWA-O01-l7WvulrESD1FsaQU0SFwpOd0dC0O0smI_Qa4GGCFvSVvW6KrBL10R1sLvJtAZ0pW_nJg/s1600/artwork_images_119039_444586_susan-meiselas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6eUlE0_0j6-CVBIcYtWwLqdG8Xf-8tusZ06lmYa4yUMvFXzGqGHt5ydAkfD4sIQ8CWA-O01-l7WvulrESD1FsaQU0SFwpOd0dC0O0smI_Qa4GGCFvSVvW6KrBL10R1sLvJtAZ0pW_nJg/s1600/artwork_images_119039_444586_susan-meiselas.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
CONDENADA<br />
<br />
sentia apenas<br />
quando doía<br />
doía apenas<br />
quando respirava<br />
respirava apenas<br />
por que sentia<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/daCuriosa.da.vida">Curiosa</a></div>
Curiosa da Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17907320447288528424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-45325486417357336112014-10-11T01:14:00.002-03:002014-10-11T01:14:43.492-03:00porque a Escrevente procura palavras<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU7yZIXgkdGkhCTY7lhy2mPDRDaiNTV5Kcw2ElZb2dtKhyphenhyphenEzhp8t7TVOomduV0iY9ZnHiZXPtODRgpz7ULH6lCTlhZ7kr7d_Jpn-fy4Hh9Q4vG5J45XtHpmzLZTXHgwW17OLiPQP1pZ658/s1600/er1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU7yZIXgkdGkhCTY7lhy2mPDRDaiNTV5Kcw2ElZb2dtKhyphenhyphenEzhp8t7TVOomduV0iY9ZnHiZXPtODRgpz7ULH6lCTlhZ7kr7d_Jpn-fy4Hh9Q4vG5J45XtHpmzLZTXHgwW17OLiPQP1pZ658/s1600/er1.jpg" height="400" width="305" /></a></div>
<br />
NOTA DE FALECIMENTO<br />
<br />
um último verso composto<br />
o atingiu de forma fatal<br />
<br />
falava<br />
em tempos infinitos<br />
amores eternos<br />
colos maternos<br />
<br />
olhos nos olhos<br />
<br />
um último verso<br />
aconchegante e devastador<br />
revelava vida após a vida<br />
da vida<br />
que depois de dita<br />
consumada<br />
existida<br />
deixava o nada<br />
preenchido do todo<br />
<br />
um último verso:<br />
o que nomeio não me comporta</div>
Curiosa da Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17907320447288528424noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-65432334571992733482014-09-11T21:45:00.000-03:002015-03-12T21:16:39.683-03:00porque a Escrevente quer voltar <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo2LlJE0p09p0MuqLQ6-x_jv77PFJ6xLTneNUqTJVRtWnLqqatHgt17tb2MWbyUWJunVquBnvQimHj9p9HDSIkXX1tKyvRjGQldL5XIxUjLmsuz4Rb8WguaILACDucHvJzKKqb21NCEvvY/s1600/presa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo2LlJE0p09p0MuqLQ6-x_jv77PFJ6xLTneNUqTJVRtWnLqqatHgt17tb2MWbyUWJunVquBnvQimHj9p9HDSIkXX1tKyvRjGQldL5XIxUjLmsuz4Rb8WguaILACDucHvJzKKqb21NCEvvY/s1600/presa.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
ENVELHECER<br />
<br />
o olhar matreiro<br />
derrotado pela pálpebra caída<br />
<br />
(foi perdendo um jeito de ver as coisas que possuía)<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/Curiosa.daCuriosa">Curiosa</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Curiosa da Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17907320447288528424noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-60223832941143825642014-08-15T09:37:00.001-03:002015-03-12T21:16:48.034-03:00porque a Escrevente está oca de palavras<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5sicEyTpZICrgChof3OSOZDyw_5pRVB6lxeQt8hERXMvYBmcTDjgsorHecniJvk6oJ4pWDiASJ1nOWfSGCcZaTWM5Mo6EoVBs8w0nmA1DbcyaRyqWR7FRa4KbOREYAQyfgslfz9vkpFKt/s1600/10576975_314386515389022_220798602596661863_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5sicEyTpZICrgChof3OSOZDyw_5pRVB6lxeQt8hERXMvYBmcTDjgsorHecniJvk6oJ4pWDiASJ1nOWfSGCcZaTWM5Mo6EoVBs8w0nmA1DbcyaRyqWR7FRa4KbOREYAQyfgslfz9vkpFKt/s1600/10576975_314386515389022_220798602596661863_n.jpg" height="640" width="454" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
DE MIM<br />
<br />
- louca<br />
de versos oca<br />
que ousa:<br />
trans-versa:<br />
poeta!<br />
- títere de si:<br />
di(s)versa<br />
<br />
(Curiosa)</div>
Curiosa da Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12247409389571405510noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-54762918426241254542014-06-16T22:45:00.001-03:002014-06-16T22:47:39.179-03:00porque a Escrevente é um eterno devir<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKdNeiA1AhZXAVBkIy4JKbCxCrbNNJO5S1STzMU9QTPaPRVo63MwJyaC5CxWUVRTm2A9H57mlLbAqzMv_07mJg7UVcMsuXm-J11_sS__FA6X_JAZZVyDhOcH2ocPRlWvsOa9qYUVlGzvs/s1600/human.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKdNeiA1AhZXAVBkIy4JKbCxCrbNNJO5S1STzMU9QTPaPRVo63MwJyaC5CxWUVRTm2A9H57mlLbAqzMv_07mJg7UVcMsuXm-J11_sS__FA6X_JAZZVyDhOcH2ocPRlWvsOa9qYUVlGzvs/s1600/human.jpg" /></a></div>
há gentes batendo na porta?<br />
<div>
diga que estou ocupada<br />
<br />
- que talho em abstrato<br />
minha face<br />
com memórias do nada<br />
<br />
que concebo sonhos e ilusões<br />
de palha e cristal<br />
<br />
impossíveis<br />
<br />
diga que metamorfoseio<br />
palavras<br />
para alimentar-me<br />
do humano<br />
<br />
em mim<br />
<br />
diga, diga às gentes<br />
que amanhã serei eu<br />
<br />
que voltem a bater<br />
<br />
(Curiosa)</div>
Curiosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03101093383729989189noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-40891749272750371642014-06-11T10:34:00.001-03:002016-11-25T17:50:39.320-02:00porque a Escrevente ... está aniversariando ...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
as mais novas que me perdoem<br />
mas a idade é fundamental<br />
<br />
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed">
</div>
<span class="userContent">
</span></div>
Curiosa da Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17907320447288528424noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-14818965688907549012014-05-27T13:44:00.003-03:002014-06-11T10:35:46.951-03:00porque a Escrevente ... ficou sem título ...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwW-BqznqNot53tG6kFaY-8eQHSkqVCi71CYBAa4Izlsm6CVkCVtWLtluA9T_ZeVjTRvebc1zpDnJQ_SH9KUfwQy6aI7VlmUkIadku31fHTvBUUcgXRK4geAqXBwlM4HMb4pkPQ-JgDHY/s1600/tumblr_n5kr6iJhId1tausx6o1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwW-BqznqNot53tG6kFaY-8eQHSkqVCi71CYBAa4Izlsm6CVkCVtWLtluA9T_ZeVjTRvebc1zpDnJQ_SH9KUfwQy6aI7VlmUkIadku31fHTvBUUcgXRK4geAqXBwlM4HMb4pkPQ-JgDHY/s1600/tumblr_n5kr6iJhId1tausx6o1_500.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
queria morrer<br />
<div>
mas entrevia um poema</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
queria escrever</div>
<div>
mas lhe morria o poema</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
queria morrer</div>
<div>
mas entrevia um poema</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
(Curiosa)</div>
</div>
Curiosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03101093383729989189noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-63709558725473462192014-05-17T23:50:00.000-03:002014-05-17T23:50:00.626-03:00porque a Escrevente procura jutificativas para se manter viva<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
JUSTIFICATIVA DE CONTINUIDADE DE EXISTÊNCIA NESTE MUNDO INJUSTO ou POR QUE NÃO ME SUICIDEI AINDA ou DA HUMANIDADE<br />
<br />
existo para contradizer o que vivo<br />
poeto para testificar o que sinto<br />
partilho para perseverar no que somos<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCQAYOtYLc_ltcg8nMvB74RDQrQ8ltuUb0CJJiFlpndLJc0bnCbhNDMFGaOdIBAF6raLN7fWCk2ANMzVNqUizQNT3bHHN-iia-GM9xVZaNdbFcPBYESZDhFBVM4N3rTJG9XvBDqnI7d8s5/s1600/14--robert-shana-parkeharrison.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCQAYOtYLc_ltcg8nMvB74RDQrQ8ltuUb0CJJiFlpndLJc0bnCbhNDMFGaOdIBAF6raLN7fWCk2ANMzVNqUizQNT3bHHN-iia-GM9xVZaNdbFcPBYESZDhFBVM4N3rTJG9XvBDqnI7d8s5/s1600/14--robert-shana-parkeharrison.jpg" height="340" width="400" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
Curiosa da Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17907320447288528424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-23302647914917964412014-05-12T23:46:00.000-03:002014-05-13T18:49:26.849-03:00porque a Escrevente ... pensa na Morte ....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
AUTO-EPITÁFIO<br />
<br />
sangrava todos os meses<br />
por isso lhe sabiam mulher<br />
<br />
escrevia vez em quando<br />
por isso lhe sabiam viva<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIlh2dxuRhP8O56XZwcvgmpd2zwsHGF5d0dvt3NbX3Q8cbK_xTVc3Pv0ULZoAY6P6jvqPUH8pehsWmHYXvC4xY8DXRKEXQuJIpr_ctPd5CYREHT7LUNyqynw8nAzLg6MpmBVo5CpbWEZVs/s1600/dama+da+noite.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIlh2dxuRhP8O56XZwcvgmpd2zwsHGF5d0dvt3NbX3Q8cbK_xTVc3Pv0ULZoAY6P6jvqPUH8pehsWmHYXvC4xY8DXRKEXQuJIpr_ctPd5CYREHT7LUNyqynw8nAzLg6MpmBVo5CpbWEZVs/s1600/dama+da+noite.jpg" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
Curiosa da Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17907320447288528424noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-85139746944300861462014-05-09T23:43:00.001-03:002014-05-09T23:43:47.910-03:00porque a Escrevente não se reconhece em nenhuma de si<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
AUTO-EPICÉDIO ou DO HUMANO ou TRANSTORNO DISSOCIATIVO ou ...<br />
<br />
crescera com uma ausência<br />
uma falta, uma sede, uma aflição<br />
como se lhe rareasse o ar a cada instante:<br />
o mundo carecia de algo!<br />
<br />
procurara em todos os olhos<br />
em todos os abraços em todas as palavras<br />
e nada!<br />
<br />
seguia<br />
acossada, inquieta, encolhida<br />
dissociada da matéria que carregava<br />
vivia<br />
vivia e procurava<br />
<br />
uma lembrança<br />
uma só lembrança que a lembrasse quem era<br />
antes de ser o que fosse<br />
antes de ser o que era<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixUWT7dcsvB1IHSVc6XvFZZ4pBwwbpOLgxvT0JheJkM2tCsLOC1Tn6lTfhm1xz3-FyqSl28Iaq_WtKsMxt6g1qs4vwrGirCw2o-qObGekYWnQjNqzId8i4YNFM8hp3WdUh1vshRO2Exb5B/s1600/Francesca-Woodman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixUWT7dcsvB1IHSVc6XvFZZ4pBwwbpOLgxvT0JheJkM2tCsLOC1Tn6lTfhm1xz3-FyqSl28Iaq_WtKsMxt6g1qs4vwrGirCw2o-qObGekYWnQjNqzId8i4YNFM8hp3WdUh1vshRO2Exb5B/s1600/Francesca-Woodman.jpg" height="319" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
Curiosa da Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17907320447288528424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-32113227857059817182014-04-17T14:49:00.000-03:002014-04-17T14:54:33.680-03:00porque a Escrevente sente o Outono, a Páscoa, a Infância<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWESPSo2xmATTUSHvY56Oa4fJAUknMTqpF37FgjKRROjmS0DZbzG2QQ4o_nFwcqP7bW4Zay1nPAZsI7lp_FP9W5oTt1M9qk3ninl-XcfmKlF4Y4htr7Uk9PU4w8PYGV2UuL7GvKGF5XnHU/s1600/nostalgia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWESPSo2xmATTUSHvY56Oa4fJAUknMTqpF37FgjKRROjmS0DZbzG2QQ4o_nFwcqP7bW4Zay1nPAZsI7lp_FP9W5oTt1M9qk3ninl-XcfmKlF4Y4htr7Uk9PU4w8PYGV2UuL7GvKGF5XnHU/s1600/nostalgia.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><br /></span><span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;">NOSTALGIAS DE OUTONO</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div>
havia um abacateiro<br />
no pátio da minha infância</div>
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do portão da garagem<br />
nascia um parreiral<br />
pela janela do meu quarto<br />
alcançava um ariticum<br />
da cozinha, um limão<br />
<br />
o cheiro de um pomar<br />
(ou uma simples salada de frutas!)<br />
leva-me<br />
para outra<br />
dimensão<br />
de mim<br />
<br />
lá sou criança<br />
lá sou feliz<br />
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<br /></div>
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(Curiosa)</div>
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<br /></div>
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..</div>
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é verdade ... nós tínhamos, mesmo, todas essas frutas ... lembro bem ... e tínhamos mais um mamoeiro ... e, claro ... havia abóboras subindo pelos muros, junto com pepinos e tomates ... um pé de laranja, outro de bergamota, os quais não cheguei a ver crescer: mudamos de casa ... (foi quando tudo mudou) ... mas ... o que mais lembro, mesmo, é de como os dias eram felizes ...</div>
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<br /></div>
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penso que seja a proximidade da páscoa que me deixa assim, nostálgica ... enfim ... FELIZ PÁSCOA para todos nós!</div>
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Curiosa da Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17907320447288528424noreply@blogger.com5