<?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-5212006832416321968</id><updated>2012-02-03T10:26:19.080-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Meio poeta.</title><subtitle type='html'>Preciso ler poesia, ter poesia, viver poesia... Não precisa ter rima rica,apenas palavras cheias de significado. Por que eu fotografo o mundo com minhas palavras. E talvez elas existam porque quero admirar meus próprios pensamentos. Indefesas e encerradas entre linhas, elas esperam de mim generosidade. Elas se expõem em meu nome de forma incondicional e inocente, acreditando que lhes esclarecerei seu significado. Elas acreditam que sou capaz de fazer isso...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>140</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-8659291162145860605</id><published>2012-02-03T10:16:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2012-02-03T10:26:19.086-03:00</updated><title type='text'>No meio da minha vida</title><summary type='text'>No meio da minha vida tinha o Pedro
tinha o Pedro no meio da minha vida
tinha o Pedro
no meio da minha vida tinha o Pedro.


Nunca me esquecerei desse acontecimento
na vida de minhas retinas tão deslumbradas.
Nunca me esquecerei que no meio da minha vida
tinha o Pedro
tinha o Pedro no meio da minha vida
no meio da minha vida tinha o Pedro.

E sempre terá.

Suspeito muito secretamente,
que no meio</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/8659291162145860605/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=8659291162145860605' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/8659291162145860605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/8659291162145860605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2012/02/no-meio-da-minha-vida-no-meio-da-minha.html' title='No meio da minha vida'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-3622060688201070128</id><published>2012-01-19T09:33:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2012-01-19T09:34:22.083-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Casa</title><summary type='text'>Quero arrumar minha casa.
Quero tudo lindo de um jeito aconchegante.
Nada de luxo, de disperdício de bom gosto.
Quero o vento fresco invadindo minha sala.
E poucos obstáculos para interceptá-lo.
Quero ver a luz refletida por toda parte.
E a magia de poder suprimí-la sempre que quiser.
Quero caminhar por ela como quem faz um passeio.
E respirar o ar da tranquilidade.
Quero a água do chuveiro como </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/3622060688201070128/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=3622060688201070128' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/3622060688201070128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/3622060688201070128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2012/01/casa.html' title='Casa'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-2658151381498821068</id><published>2011-07-25T12:45:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-30T17:45:34.221-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Seja lá o que for, seja lá onde for. 
Seja! 
Nem seria, nem serei. 
Ser agora o que não foi e o que amanhã não será também.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2658151381498821068/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=2658151381498821068' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2658151381498821068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2658151381498821068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2011/07/seja-la-o-que-for-seja-la-onde-for.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-8664269459286313364</id><published>2011-07-23T15:17:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-25T12:44:56.647-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Eu Amo Escrever</title><summary type='text'>Concurso de contos! Estou concorrendo!Vote no link se gostou! :D

Eu Amo Escrever</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/8664269459286313364/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=8664269459286313364' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/8664269459286313364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/8664269459286313364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2011/07/eu-amo-escrever.html' title='Eu Amo Escrever'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-5734340113900506908</id><published>2011-06-03T08:53:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-30T17:45:09.877-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Te adoro.</title><summary type='text'>Te adoro no sentido inteiro de adorar.
Meu adorado!
Não como divindade inalcançável.
Meu adorado!
Alegria que chega na alma.
Sorriso cheio, certeiro.

Adoro como sou desejo.
Como sou mulher que incendeia.
Adoro sê-lo em você!

Adoro querer olhar cada detalhe do seu rosto.
À espera por seu cheiro inebriante.
Adoro ainda mais senti-lo.

Adoro nosso dialeto amoroso.
E o tanto de vida permeando </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/5734340113900506908/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=5734340113900506908' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/5734340113900506908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/5734340113900506908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2011/06/te-adoro.html' title='Te adoro.'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-8883158478845547119</id><published>2011-05-20T18:36:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-20T18:36:39.072-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Loucos e Santos</title><summary type='text'>Escolho meus amigos não pela pele ou outro arquétipo qualquer, mas pela pupila. 
Tem que ter brilho questionador e tonalidade inquietante. 
A mim não interessam os bons de espírito nem os maus de hábitos. 
Fico com aqueles que fazem de mim louco e santo. 
Deles não quero resposta, quero meu avesso. 
Que me tragam dúvidas e angústias e agüentem o que há de pior em mim. 
Para isso, só sendo louco.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/8883158478845547119/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=8883158478845547119' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/8883158478845547119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/8883158478845547119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2011/05/loucos-e-santos.html' title='Loucos e Santos'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-3470937706363729552</id><published>2011-05-20T18:35:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-20T18:35:51.628-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Te quero nas proximidades da minha pele quente.
Tão perto que nem precise de roupa.
Tão delicioso que nem precise de fome.
Tão intenso que nem precise do mundo!</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/3470937706363729552/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=3470937706363729552' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/3470937706363729552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/3470937706363729552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2011/05/te-quero-nas-proximidades-da-minha-pele.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-1879494063930476322</id><published>2011-05-06T09:46:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-06T09:46:38.352-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'> Olho o céu espelhado  e te vejo no vapor das nuvens.
Seus olhos de contornos negros,riscados, acolhidos pela face robusta.Seus olhos sorridentes, salientes, brilhantes...Seus olhos de sonhador barroco,de filósofo de sabedoria de outros tempos.
Seus olhos me observam,decoram meus contornos.Me desejam nos reflexos infinitos do espelho.Olhos históricos, eufóricos.Olhos respeitosos à imobilidade </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/1879494063930476322/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=1879494063930476322' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/1879494063930476322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/1879494063930476322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2011/05/olho-o-ceu-espelhado-e-te-vejo-no-vapor.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-4049954855108269761</id><published>2011-03-13T16:23:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-13T16:23:28.665-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Minha concentração está perdida em algum lugar entre a paixão e o fim do mundo.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/4049954855108269761/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=4049954855108269761' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/4049954855108269761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/4049954855108269761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2011/03/minha-concentracao-esta-perdida-em.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-5529923925496944181</id><published>2011-01-30T19:08:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2011-02-03T12:16:14.077-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>O amor é sereno quente.
Precipita meus desejos.
Eles deslizam,
efervescem...
E, eu, sublimo! 


O amor me rouba o norte
com seu beijo úmido e indecente!
À meia luz, o corpo inteiro.
Faz que me deixa,
e me deixa louca.
Me deixa em Júpiter! 
E regressa intenso.

Ri do gozo que me entorpece. 
Sem jamais resistir ao sabor
 do meu furor entorpecido.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/5529923925496944181/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=5529923925496944181' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/5529923925496944181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/5529923925496944181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2011/01/o-amor-e-sereno-quente.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-5875389535977097758</id><published>2011-01-30T19:07:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2011-01-30T19:07:35.949-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Como nunca antes</title><summary type='text'>Que sentimento é esse que de tão bom parece fazer cócegas na minha alegria? 
Que acolhe minha paz em seu corpo macio.
Que descobre os gostos dos meus desejos como ninguém...

Que sentimento é esse que deixa a minha pele quente, sem eu me queimar?
Que me invade, me provoca e me devora.
Que adoça meus gemidos com sua voz deliciosa.
Me deita, me morde, me rouba do mundo ordinário...

Que sentimento </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/5875389535977097758/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=5875389535977097758' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/5875389535977097758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/5875389535977097758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2011/01/como-nunca-antes.html' title='Como nunca antes'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-7352390841916653577</id><published>2011-01-26T14:21:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2011-01-26T14:21:58.235-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Amar é viver em júpiter, sem jamais conseguir descrevê-lo.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/7352390841916653577/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=7352390841916653577' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/7352390841916653577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/7352390841916653577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2011/01/amar-e-viver-em-jupiter-sem-jamais.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-2637294732789812365</id><published>2010-12-12T14:54:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-12-12T14:56:46.115-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>As pessoas são fragrâncias. Tem sua dose exata. Se pouco, são nulas. Se muito, intoxicam.
Mas, se você vicia, muito é sempre pouco.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2637294732789812365/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=2637294732789812365' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2637294732789812365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2637294732789812365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/12/as-pessoas-sao-fragrancias.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-9025418612989728181</id><published>2010-12-12T13:36:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2010-12-12T13:36:25.055-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Borboleta ou tubarão.</title><summary type='text'>Sou tão forte como um trovão.O som.Sou tão forte como um furacão.O vento.Sou tão forte como um dilúvio.A água.Sou tão forte como um vulcão.O fogo.Mas a força permanece na intenção.Do som...  Do vento...  Da água...  Do fogo...A força está nas ideias.Está nos pensamentos!
No sentimento, sou reversa.Tão perturbadora quanto um assovio.Tão devastadora como um sopro.Tão afluente quanto gotículas de </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/9025418612989728181/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=9025418612989728181' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/9025418612989728181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/9025418612989728181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/12/borboleta-ou-tubarao.html' title='Borboleta ou tubarão.'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-595524608924723562</id><published>2010-12-08T22:19:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2010-12-08T22:19:18.678-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Um transbordamento suave me ocorre. Não disponho de medo, nem ilusões. São vontades de materializar vontades. 
Se os puristas sonham atingir a abstração das ideias, sou mundana em desejar aquilo que desperta meu corpo inteiro, como uma ideia eletrizante que faisca.
Não quero fantasiar, nem imaginar como seria. Quero ser, quero que seja! Quero! Quero com o corpo inteiro!</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/595524608924723562/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=595524608924723562' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/595524608924723562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/595524608924723562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/12/um-transbordamento-suave-me-ocorre.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-8728947837569272794</id><published>2010-12-01T12:50:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2010-12-01T12:50:04.064-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>"As palavras alimentam a alma nos momentos de solidão e desespero.Nutra almas com a beleza das suas palavras e desejos."

Como ser insensível a pedido tão amável?</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/8728947837569272794/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=8728947837569272794' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/8728947837569272794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/8728947837569272794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/12/as-palavras-alimentam-alma-nos-momentos.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-2098316789872892142</id><published>2010-11-06T18:19:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-11-06T18:20:02.728-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Queria que me esquecesse, mas você não me esquece.
Queria que me amasse, mas você não ama.

O desejo é um vinho doce e corrosivo, degustado com volúpia.
Do prazer, se decompõe em taça vazia.
Não alimenta, nada espera.
Senão a boca seca e a vertigem. 

Queria que não me desejasse... Ou queria?</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2098316789872892142/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=2098316789872892142' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2098316789872892142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2098316789872892142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/11/queria-que-me-esquecesse-mas-voce-nao.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-8128257003995301458</id><published>2010-11-06T18:06:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-11-06T18:21:10.440-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Eu acredito no amor. Ele é como qualquer entidade viva: nasce e morre com a mesma intensidade.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/8128257003995301458/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=8128257003995301458' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/8128257003995301458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/8128257003995301458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/11/eu-acredito-no-amor.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-7403434909007886000</id><published>2010-10-27T10:20:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-10-27T10:20:36.317-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Aforismos e tormentos.</title><summary type='text'>Entre meus aforismos e meus tormentos, vejo um filme futurista projetado no meu horizonte. A luz se projeta, mas não ilumina nada. Ouço a fita girar em seu eixo: voltas sem fim. Não posso ver imagens, nem eu mesma. Me inquieto na poltrona da sala escura. A música me diz baixinho para esperar. O frio me diz baixinho para seguir. Eu sigo esperando que minhas escolhas construam um filme bonito pra </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/7403434909007886000/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=7403434909007886000' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/7403434909007886000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/7403434909007886000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/10/aforismos-e-tormentos.html' title='Aforismos e tormentos.'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-2922031502843395074</id><published>2010-10-22T11:10:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-10-22T11:10:31.938-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Não somos divinos, somos divinamente orgânicos! Tudo em nós é orgânico, desde os ossos até os pensamentos. No sentido literal ou figurado, tudo vem das entranhas!</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2922031502843395074/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=2922031502843395074' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2922031502843395074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2922031502843395074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/10/nao-somos-divinos-somos-divinamente.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-1522131824420106998</id><published>2010-10-21T23:01:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-10-21T23:01:47.387-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Sou íntima do amor. Sei quando ele está e quando não está presente. Principalmente quando não está. Sinto saudade, sinto um gosto amargo de contrariedade. O amor é assim, nunca se sabe quando vem ou quando se vai. Um hóspede inesperado que nos recusamos a deixar partir. Tranquilo ou desordeiro, quer-se o hábito do desassossego, quer-se a ilusão do resgate eterno da ilusão. Esse amor, um </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/1522131824420106998/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=1522131824420106998' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/1522131824420106998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/1522131824420106998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/10/sou-intima-do-amor.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-1920665210284080806</id><published>2010-10-16T14:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-16T14:02:02.142-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Pobre fio solítário.Decretou sua velhicitude.Se enroscou, embranqueceu.Desistiu de lutar.
Entregou sua riqueza,dourada e brilhante,para os meses desonestos.
Inspirou-se no nubladodos dias sem esperança.Perdeu-se das coresdos dias suaves.
Não será maisempregnado de sol.
Não recordará maisa leveza e a inocênciados cachos dourados.Anos dourados,vibrantes, arejados.
Ficou o ventoa perturbá-lo,a </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/1920665210284080806/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=1920665210284080806' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/1920665210284080806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/1920665210284080806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/10/pobre-fio-solitario.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-3704755586488214505</id><published>2010-10-14T20:14:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-14T20:19:00.790-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Sentimentos não são racionais. Relações humanas não são racionais.  Logo, é irracional racionalizar sentimentos.  É preciso racionalizar a  não racionalização.A  harmonia não é uma constante. A harmonia é aquilo pelo qual se briga  todos os dias. A harmonia é flutuante, orgânica, não é lógica. Assim  como o amor.Não  mande ao cárcere aquele que você preza, querendo protegê-lo de suas  desvirtudes</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/3704755586488214505/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=3704755586488214505' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/3704755586488214505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/3704755586488214505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/10/sentimentos-nao-sao-racionais.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-1542326132086406847</id><published>2010-10-10T16:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-10T16:35:37.667-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Vida, perdoe-me por exigir de ti sempre um espetáculo.
Perdoe-me por não aplaudir seus truques simples.
Perdoe-me por tratá-la como fonte inesgotável do meu contentamento.
Perdoe-me por esquecer que você é minha criação e eu sou sua criatura.
Perdoe-me por me recusar a ser feliz, às vezes, só por considerar que felicidade é tudo que ainda não faz parte de mim.
Perdoe-me pela cegueira viciada da </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/1542326132086406847/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=1542326132086406847' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/1542326132086406847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/1542326132086406847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/10/vida-perdoe-me-por-exigir-de-ti-sempre.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-2123898838072018515</id><published>2010-10-09T13:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-09T13:22:12.240-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>O que sentimos de verdade, nunca escrevemos pros outros, pois é intranscritível.  O que fazemos são pequenos manuais universais  do senso comum sentimental.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2123898838072018515/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=2123898838072018515' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2123898838072018515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2123898838072018515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/10/o-que-sentimos-de-verdade-nunca.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-7602199202261826074</id><published>2010-10-08T20:27:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-09T11:12:41.825-04:00</updated><title type='text'>É possível fingir. Esquecer, nunca.</title><summary type='text'>É possível  fingir qualquer coisa. É possível fingir que se esqueceu alguém ou algum momento marcante. É possível fingir. Esquecer, nunca. Por mais que se distraia, que se mude para outro continente, que se encontre outras razões para se alegrar... Por mais que a vida siga seu rumo, as lembranças nos seguem fiéis para onde quer que a gente vá. Nessas horas, pode vir o arrependimento do que se fez</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/7602199202261826074/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=7602199202261826074' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/7602199202261826074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/7602199202261826074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/10/e-possivel-fingir-esquecer-nunca.html' title='É possível fingir. Esquecer, nunca.'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-1464271000911648628</id><published>2010-10-08T10:44:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-08T10:44:26.643-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Expressão.</title><summary type='text'> Expressão.A pressão do ser.De ser.De ser externo,  escarnado,  estripado de suas ideias.
A expressãodescuida da gente,  Descuidada, gente,ela nos joga aos leões.Depois aos abutres.Enquanto há sangue,há vampiros.
Se expressar,se atirar,se ferir,ferir.  Ou mentira.Tudo ilusãode um cretino,exibido, falastrão...
Expressa-se ou te esqueço!Esqueça-me e me expresso!Ou me expresso em dúvida.Se me </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/1464271000911648628/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=1464271000911648628' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/1464271000911648628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/1464271000911648628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/10/expressao.html' title='Expressão.'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-5444069430474743573</id><published>2010-10-06T15:08:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-06T15:08:15.731-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>


Ele, ela e o tempo.
por: Mônica
"Gabriel sabia ser feliz. Ir e voltar da escola, ver a namoradinha e estar com os..."

  


</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/5444069430474743573/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=5444069430474743573' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/5444069430474743573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/5444069430474743573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/10/ele-ela-e-o-tempo.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-9136289792003305575</id><published>2010-09-21T18:37:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-21T22:42:48.442-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'> Preciso escrever.Cadê coragem?
Na folha branca,não sou letra,não sou sentido,sou ausência.  
("Escrever"-Pablo Picasso) </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/9136289792003305575/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=9136289792003305575' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/9136289792003305575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/9136289792003305575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/09/preciso-escrever.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ilct435Fc2U/TJlst3vYLhI/AAAAAAAABtY/KvoJrpWn1WM/s72-c/escrever+picasso.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-8154680776478773134</id><published>2010-09-09T10:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-09T10:02:03.437-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Meu Veneno</title><summary type='text'>Atrás de meus olhos
Dorme uma lagoa profunda
E o céu que trago na mente
...Meu voo jamais alcança

Há no meu corpo um incêndio
Que queima sem esperança
A própria terra que piso
Vira um abismo e me come

Corre em meu sangue um veneno
Veneno que tem teu nome

(Milton Nascimento)</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/8154680776478773134/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=8154680776478773134' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/8154680776478773134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/8154680776478773134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/09/meu-veneno.html' title='Meu Veneno'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-4945554228845232480</id><published>2010-08-23T16:14:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-26T13:22:06.610-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Eu gosto</title><summary type='text'>
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Gosto do que é cinematográfico. De tudo que é fantástico. Da beleza que há no que há de alegre e triste também. Gosto do que é feito com tesão, daquilo que é arrebatador e intenso. Tenho gosto pelo tragicômico e pelo humor atravessado. Não o que é amargo, disso só café sem açúcar e chocolate que quebra feito biscoito. Falo </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/4945554228845232480/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=4945554228845232480' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/4945554228845232480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/4945554228845232480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/08/eu-gosto.html' title='Eu gosto'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-2591846453691416092</id><published>2010-08-23T11:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-23T11:19:50.682-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Encontro cósmico</title><summary type='text'>Combinei com o universo:nunca me deixe só!Ele ouviu, girou...Deu-me companhias,deu-me alegrias,deu-me alguma paz.
Mas a harmonia,que nem eu sabia que queria,isso ele não me deu.Os meus lápis coloridos,gastaram, se perderamnas mudanças, nas lembranças,nos caminhos até aqui.
Noutro dia,que surpresa!Da minha constelação,da minha imensidão astral,vi você chegando.Interplanetária,incomparável,</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2591846453691416092/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=2591846453691416092' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2591846453691416092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2591846453691416092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/08/encontro-cosmico.html' title='Encontro cósmico'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-2719897189917396208</id><published>2010-08-19T17:42:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-19T17:42:26.041-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A vida, uma dança.</title><summary type='text'>
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A vida é como uma dança.Um dia somos passos.Outros, somos chão.Bailamos,mudamos de lugar.Ou não mudamos.
Nos damos contade quanto o mundo é circular.Não adianta parar.Você vai girar!
Nos damos contade que essa festanos cerca de gente.E, no fimfica só quem </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2719897189917396208/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=2719897189917396208' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2719897189917396208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2719897189917396208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/08/vida-uma-danca.html' title='A vida, uma dança.'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-9037494411355549925</id><published>2010-08-11T17:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-11T17:20:29.617-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Escrever é a arte de dosar o auto-julgamento, desenvolver a tolerância e postergar o amor pela obra, pois que o escrito nos remete quase sempre a uma depressão pós-parto semântica.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/9037494411355549925/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=9037494411355549925' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/9037494411355549925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/9037494411355549925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/08/escrever-e-arte-de-dosar-o-auto.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-2218919912465149471</id><published>2010-08-05T16:45:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-05T16:45:50.484-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Trabalho do céu é nos roubar o dia quando acostumamos com ele e nos roubar o sono no melhor aconchego do travesseiro. O trabalho do céu é jogar coisas sobre nossas cabeças e depois sorrir azul como se nada tivesse acontecido. Sonso...</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2218919912465149471/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=2218919912465149471' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2218919912465149471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2218919912465149471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/08/trabalho-do-ceu-e-nos-roubar-o-dia.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-6026539875921899241</id><published>2010-08-02T08:28:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-06T21:13:22.923-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Felidae</title><summary type='text'>Você colhe o néctar da minha boca.
Profana e doce, num suspiro,
suga tudo...
minha fala, 
meu sono.
minha lucidez.

Sua língua cúmplice
umedece meus anseios,
lambe minhas feridas,
lambe minha alma inteira.

Ambígua,
me cura, me fere.
Rasga sua fragilidade 
impenetrável.
Despe suas garras de seda,
sobre sua penugem
cor de sol.
Acolhe-me íntimo
o sabor caramelado
precipitado e vão
do meu </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/6026539875921899241/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=6026539875921899241' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/6026539875921899241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/6026539875921899241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/08/felidae.html' title='Felidae'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-6249642654599342201</id><published>2010-07-27T13:49:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-27T19:07:32.615-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Saudade.</title><summary type='text'>
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Tem dia de saudade.Uma dorzinha alfinetadaem pleno sol de inverno.Aquele azulzinho tranquilo,aquele ventinho gostosoe parece abafado.Algo faltandoe ninguém se importa!Refletida.Tem saudade de dia.
Um alfinetezinho dolorido
em pleno inverno no sol.
Aquela tranquilidadezinha azul
aquela gostosurazinha de vento
e o abafado </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/6249642654599342201/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=6249642654599342201' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/6249642654599342201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/6249642654599342201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/07/saudade.html' title='Saudade.'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-7485933055758079067</id><published>2010-07-23T17:25:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-23T17:25:23.245-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Manifesto.</title><summary type='text'>Vamos  desafiar a frieza que se manifesta em nossa sociedade de consumo e  pressa, com AMOR. Mas não o amor como palavra e sim aquele manifesto. O  manifesto que escrevemos toda vez que dizemos "eu te amo" a quem  realmente amamos, que abraçamos carinhosamente aqueles por quem temos  carinho e escutamos aqueles a quem nutrimos respeito. Amar não é cafona,  nem fora de moda, é humano! Sejamos </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/7485933055758079067/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=7485933055758079067' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/7485933055758079067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/7485933055758079067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/07/manifesto.html' title='Manifesto.'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-4876783412436743845</id><published>2010-07-19T19:36:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-19T19:37:52.550-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Peleja versada.</title><summary type='text'>
Lobo: _ Identificação ?!?!? rs. Ela canta e eu danço instintivamente. _ Debooooooche! (som fazendo curva)Anjo: _ hahahahahahaha (risada cristalina).Lobo: _ Muito. Meu corpo mexe no som do deboche._ Hahahahahaha (risada cretina).Anjo: _ uahauahauahaauhaauahau (risada gozada)_ Isso daria uma música!!!!! (Idéia colorida!)_ Música tropicalista ou à la Chico Buarque._ Brincando com as sílabas... :</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/4876783412436743845/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=4876783412436743845' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/4876783412436743845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/4876783412436743845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/07/peleja-versada.html' title='Peleja versada.'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-2999432512139100639</id><published>2010-07-14T09:24:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-14T09:24:15.427-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>
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Quero uma dose de silêncio,uma porção de afeição,e uma sopa quentinha de sossego.
Pra viagem, não!Pra casa!</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2999432512139100639/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=2999432512139100639' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2999432512139100639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2999432512139100639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/07/quero-uma-dose-de-silencio-uma-porcao.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-6846260950363733917</id><published>2010-06-28T12:46:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-06T21:17:02.739-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Ode às palavras.
Eram pequenas, palavras enfileiradasde arial  formato.Se descobriram vozes das maisencantadas ideias.Repousaram  no papel branco entre minhas mãos.Nasceram negras. Não morrerão  jamais.
Inspirada em:

Ode ao inseto.
"Era pequeno, inseto voadorde asinhas minúsculas.Descobriu as  mais belas e colossaispaisagens.Pousou na tinta ainda úmida sob o prato.Morreu, colorido."
(Anna  Anjos</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/6846260950363733917/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=6846260950363733917' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/6846260950363733917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/6846260950363733917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/06/ode-as-palavras.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-9162864520983804377</id><published>2010-06-17T11:36:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-17T11:41:04.119-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Dias estranhos parecem grandes projeções do resto  de nossas vidas. Longas-metragens de suspense e drama. Que bom poder dormir toda noite pra acordar num novo dia! Porque todos temos que fazer escolhas e sempre falta algo  nas escolhas que se faz.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/9162864520983804377/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=9162864520983804377' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/9162864520983804377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/9162864520983804377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/06/dias-estranhos-parecem-grandes.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-7348741274066165825</id><published>2010-05-26T17:43:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-26T17:47:43.897-04:00</updated><title type='text'>O APANHADOR DE DESPERDÍCIOS</title><summary type='text'>(Manoel de Barros)"Uso a palavra para compor meus silêncios.Não gosto das palavrasfatigadas de informar.Dou mais respeitoàs que vivem de barriga no chãotipo água pedra sapo.Entendo bem o sotaque das águas.dou respeito às coisas desimportantese aos seres desimportantes.Prezo insetos mais que aviões.Prezo a velocidadedas tartarugas mais que as dos mísseis.Tenho em mim esse atraso de nascença.Eu fui</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/7348741274066165825/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=7348741274066165825' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/7348741274066165825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/7348741274066165825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/05/o-apanhador-de-desperdicios.html' title='O APANHADOR DE DESPERDÍCIOS'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-1985584664750827129</id><published>2010-05-19T08:03:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-19T08:06:27.726-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Gosto</title><summary type='text'> 	&lt;!-- 		@page { margin: 2cm } 		P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } 	--&gt;Que gosto você tem? Que gosto tem, você?  Você, tem que gosto? Tem que gosto, você? Que gosto? Que gosto... Tem? Você, tem gosto? Que você tem? Gosto, você? Você?!!! Gosto? Quê?!!! Tem você... </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/1985584664750827129/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=1985584664750827129' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/1985584664750827129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/1985584664750827129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/05/gosto.html' title='Gosto'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-8541605224611007828</id><published>2010-05-12T13:01:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-16T11:56:47.906-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Pílula filosófica.</title><summary type='text'> 	&lt;!-- 		@page { margin: 2cm } 		P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } 		H6 { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } 	--&gt; 	 Eu li essa semana: "O desejo é o apetite acompanhado da consciência que dele se tem"(Spinoza) e "Fuja das tentações, mas devagar, para que elas possam te alcançar!".Se tentação for tudo que a gente deseja, mas não deve fazer, trata-se de uma tortura consciente. Então, fuja devagar da sua </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/8541605224611007828/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=8541605224611007828' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/8541605224611007828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/8541605224611007828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/05/pilula-filosofica.html' title='Pílula filosófica.'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-6747565402667510845</id><published>2010-05-07T12:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-07T12:14:19.764-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>O que pensamos é mais interessante e elaborado do que aquilo que conseguimos transcrever. Geniais são aqueles que, na escrita, se aproximam de verdade dos seus pensamentos.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/6747565402667510845/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=6747565402667510845' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/6747565402667510845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/6747565402667510845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/05/o-que-pensamos-e-mais-interessante-e.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-3371871127725354983</id><published>2010-04-18T12:51:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-18T16:44:18.088-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Desejos</title><summary type='text'>Desejos são divinos,mundanos,impetuosos,demasiado humanos...Desconstroem ideiasviciadas em tédio,em dias mornos em saliva insípida.Relativizam o tempo.Os olhares fugazes,se revelam ferozes.Feras enjauladas.Feridas insistentesde impulsos impensados.Redundantes como um círculo.Que se fecha no fim,mas é sempre início.A fome que não vêo fruto.Que padece de dúvidas.Mas quando se realiza,transborda de </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/3371871127725354983/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=3371871127725354983' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/3371871127725354983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/3371871127725354983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/04/desejos.html' title='Desejos'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-8211108289866233828</id><published>2010-04-18T12:17:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-22T15:28:29.894-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>
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O corpo é um instrumento das nossas vontades: secretas, impetuosas e divinamente mundanas.
"O desejo é o apetite acompanhado da consciência que dele se tem"(Spinoza) 
"Há duas tragédias na vida: uma a de não satisfazermos os nossos desejos, a outra a de os satisfazermos."(Oscar Wilde) </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/8211108289866233828/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=8211108289866233828' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/8211108289866233828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/8211108289866233828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/04/o-corpo-e-um-instrumento-das-nossas.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-5615400525136446208</id><published>2010-04-09T13:05:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-16T20:51:58.150-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Camaleoa</title><summary type='text'>Sou muito camaleoaJuba dourada,criatura esguia, escorregadia.Língua afiada,apressada.Deslizo pelos universosdos sentidos, dos saberes,dos desejos e viveres.Me diluo no imaginário alheio.Posso ser uma, várias...Tenho minhas fantasias,minhas personagens.Imito a textura de ser,nos diversos cenários que toco.Agente secreta, espiã.Num piscar de olhos,estou e não estou lá.Me deixo pouco,me levo </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/5615400525136446208/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=5615400525136446208' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/5615400525136446208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/5615400525136446208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/04/camaleoa.html' title='Camaleoa'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-2171856232036275504</id><published>2010-03-31T18:37:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-31T18:37:49.181-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Feliz aniversário Carol.</title><summary type='text'>Vida longa,leve, saborosapara essa Fera,essa moça serelepe,minha irmã caçula,minha conexão banda largacom o Cosmos,com a aleatoriedade universal.Vida plenasatisfeita,que enche a barriga,que mata a fome,que sacia a sedee que, travessa,deixa sempre,um gosto de quero mais.Vida inteira,não metade,não meia-verdade.Que sejaverdade verdadeira,forte e serena,corajosa comovocê sabe ser.Vida contente,feliz</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2171856232036275504/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=2171856232036275504' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2171856232036275504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2171856232036275504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/03/feliz-aniversario-carol.html' title='Feliz aniversário Carol.'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-4965726471983320708</id><published>2010-03-24T12:05:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-24T17:48:51.920-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Ciranda do vento</title><summary type='text'>E-mo-ti-va.Cheia dessas dores de viver.De ser feliz.Como um vento rasteiro.Passa cheio, travesso.Eleva a poeira densa,bagunça os pensamentos,mistura às lembranças.Vão bailando devagar.Pensamento e lembrança,dançam como par.Rodopiam, se exibindo.Querendo me conquistar.Cada passo, um afeto.Uma alegria serena.Uma alegria chorosa.E o vento:minha trilha musical!Embala essa ciranda,embola essa poeira,</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/4965726471983320708/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=4965726471983320708' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/4965726471983320708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/4965726471983320708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/03/ciranda-do-vento.html' title='Ciranda do vento'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-8663638881386242917</id><published>2010-03-03T13:27:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-03T13:31:58.798-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Good luck friend.</title><summary type='text'>Once upon a timethere was a girl.A girl who wantedbe teacher.A teacher of any placeshe could find life and love...Maybe time shows,maybe feelings mean.She has desires,hope and a lot of dreams ...Sometimes she knowswhat others ask themselves.Sometimes she goeswhere others have nothing at all.Neither has she...But she trusts universe.She keeps going.Some letter, word, thoughtwill take her awayin a </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/8663638881386242917/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=8663638881386242917' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/8663638881386242917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/8663638881386242917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/03/good-luck-friend.html' title='Good luck friend.'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-8171476505764416732</id><published>2010-02-24T16:22:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-02-24T17:01:33.564-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Digerir o tempo</title><summary type='text'> 	&lt;!-- 		@page { margin: 2cm } 		P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } 	--&gt;Estou plena de sentimentos como se, voraz, comesse o tédio, o amor, a espera, a dúvida, os sonhos...  Preciso de saliva, de caninos   que rasguem a carne, de enzimas   que amoleçam as dúvidas, de um colo macio que depure os excessos, purifique meus resíduos imaginários.  Preciso digerir o tempo...  </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/8171476505764416732/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=8171476505764416732' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/8171476505764416732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/8171476505764416732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/02/digerir-o-tempo.html' title='Digerir o tempo'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-4273797038919164194</id><published>2010-02-19T18:15:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-02-22T10:55:05.940-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Carnaval</title><summary type='text'>Os tambores marcam surdoso compasso da ilusão.Convocam os espíritos.Notas hipnóticasde um ritmo delirante.Batuque infernal!Carnes inflamadassaculejam em gozo.Sorrisos fartos...Exus regozijadosfantasiados de foliãose alimentam de euforiaMundana, profana.Bebem a alma gasosados inocentes.Espetam-lhe os desejos.Desafiam seus pudores.A persona do perigo.Com seus olhos de volúpiade abismo insano.Clowns</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/4273797038919164194/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=4273797038919164194' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/4273797038919164194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/4273797038919164194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/02/carnaval.html' title='Carnaval'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-6587382034149185603</id><published>2010-02-11T14:17:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T14:17:47.336-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Os amores são sempre à primeira vista. A gente é que, às vezes, só percebe depois...</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/6587382034149185603/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=6587382034149185603' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/6587382034149185603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/6587382034149185603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/02/os-amores-sao-sempre-primeira-vista.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-3784202890059867566</id><published>2010-02-03T09:44:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-02-03T09:45:11.603-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>"...tenho por princípiosNunca fechar portasMas como mantê-las abertasO tempo todoSe em certos dias o ventoQuer derrubar tudo?..."(Sudoeste-Adriana Calcanhoto)</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/3784202890059867566/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=3784202890059867566' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/3784202890059867566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/3784202890059867566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/02/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-3176995887297358279</id><published>2010-01-15T09:37:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T10:13:48.062-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Penso, logo hesito...</title><summary type='text'>Quem pensa demais,elabora tensões subliminares.Encerra o desejoem grades geométricas.Calcula cada ato espontâneo.Mede cada palavra afetuosa.Põe em gráficosa linha do tempo.Define a coordenadadas emoções.Desconfia do instinto.Credita toda honraao pensamento:um infinitode variáveis controladas.Em estreito deleite de vida,entende as razões,ignora as paixões,nega a vontade...Condena a liberdade,como </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/3176995887297358279/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=3176995887297358279' title='6 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/3176995887297358279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/3176995887297358279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/01/penso-logo-hesito.html' title='Penso, logo hesito...'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-6408105403831736908</id><published>2010-01-13T12:47:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T13:43:52.449-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Paixão move o imóvel</title><summary type='text'> 	&lt;!-- 		@page { margin: 2cm } 		P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } 	--&gt; 	 Às vezes fico imóvel. Vejo coisas e nada faço.  Às vezes me mobilizo. No susto, na paixão, dou largada, liberto o espírito!  Palavras velozes, correm. Explosão de energia! Disputam cada passo, flutuam, sentem o vento. E na firmeza aérea, de quem caminha no impulso de liberdade, cruzam a linha de chegada. Vitória! Ou não... </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/6408105403831736908/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=6408105403831736908' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/6408105403831736908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/6408105403831736908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/01/paixao-move-o-imovel.html' title='Paixão move o imóvel'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-5035863744014833112</id><published>2010-01-11T18:52:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T18:53:02.269-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Dissecando a vida.</title><summary type='text'> 	&lt;!-- 		@page { margin: 2cm } 		P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } 	--&gt; Eu era tão racional que dediquei três anos da minha vida dissecando cérebros de ratos na tentativa de entender como as coisas funcionam. Pensava que observando a porção microscópica da questão, lá estaria, em meio a moléculas elementares, um dicionário ilustrado ensinando a viver. Como alguém racional pode ser tão ingênuo a ponto </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/5035863744014833112/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=5035863744014833112' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/5035863744014833112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/5035863744014833112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/01/dissecando-vida.html' title='Dissecando a vida.'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-8873855988251626514</id><published>2010-01-09T13:11:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-01-09T14:04:47.030-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Coração encantado</title><summary type='text'>Palavras mágicas,coração encantado.Passos distraídos,mãos de plumas.Da cartola,um sorriso.Da manga,um afago.Cartas de amor,voam no espaço.Coelhos brancos,nuvens desenhadas.Lenços são peças,embaraço despido.Vapor do vazio,sob olhos inocentes.Surpresa!Aplausos! Extase!Vida fascinante,montanha-russsa,roda gigantedentro de si.Aventura?Magia?Ilusão?Não! Espetáculo!</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/8873855988251626514/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=8873855988251626514' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/8873855988251626514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/8873855988251626514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/01/coracao-encantado.html' title='Coração encantado'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-4487762426657600833</id><published>2010-01-06T09:22:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-01-06T09:22:23.329-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Flocos de algodão</title><summary type='text'>Sinto que sei.Saber não diz nada.Nada que se senteé entendimento.Começa espera.Vira esperança.Corre um fioFrágil, quebrável.Espera, sorriso.Alegria, flocos de algodão!Não se faz.Se deixa ir.Suave, carinhosa.Mente clara.Céu de primavera.Flores de cheiro.Doce encanto.Encantada.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/4487762426657600833/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=4487762426657600833' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/4487762426657600833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/4487762426657600833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/01/flocos-de-algodao.html' title='Flocos de algodão'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-1835321550593548570</id><published>2010-01-04T16:51:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-01-04T16:56:33.825-03:00</updated><title type='text'>“I've got a feeling, a feeling deep inside.”</title><summary type='text'>I know notting about it,I don't know why, when, how long...I just feel something I've lost some dayand it comes back again. To me, to both of us. No idea...Slowly, peacefully, tenderly.I've got a running heart, but it's not running away.It grows up inside me, but I don´t suffocate.It's good, it's God, it's me. How about it? Sweet! I'm happy, but I'm ok.I don't live tomorrow. Life is me today.(</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/1835321550593548570/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=1835321550593548570' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/1835321550593548570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/1835321550593548570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/01/ive-got-feeling-feeling-deep-inside.html' title='“I&apos;ve got a feeling, a feeling deep inside.”'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-6480554647517365712</id><published>2010-01-03T21:18:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-01-05T12:45:18.670-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Retina</title><summary type='text'>Sua retina me desenha.Se encanta com as palavras.Se espanta com a verdade.Se morde de curiosidade.Se sente intimidada,furtada, despida.De um verso,tira a roupa,veste o véu da cumplicidade.Se ilude, se entrega,Ama.Sua retina embaçaa mente.E mente.Seduz, reluz, traduzsentidos sem direção.Difração.Arco, feixe, íris.Nuvens eletrônicas,magnéticas, indecifráveis.Sua retina,máquina ingênua,decodifica </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/6480554647517365712/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=6480554647517365712' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/6480554647517365712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/6480554647517365712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2010/01/retina.html' title='Retina'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-4526436992541193288</id><published>2009-12-19T11:52:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2009-12-19T12:28:30.322-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Natal</title><summary type='text'>Amo meus pais, não pelo de costume,pela fusão inicial,pelo atrever-se a dar vida...Sei que o criadortem paixão inevitável,indissolúvel e visceralpela criatura.Esta, como parte de sicomo fim surpreedente,que é!Por tal feito, deve gratidão...Mas, amor...Amor se cria.Se a cria como tal,olha atenta a sua origem,Vê além de seu ego umbilical,fetal, carnal.Se fui nascida, nata,suspensão de pureza </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/4526436992541193288/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=4526436992541193288' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/4526436992541193288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/4526436992541193288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/12/natal.html' title='Natal'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-7337252373811174531</id><published>2009-12-17T12:24:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T14:44:38.944-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Amiga-vos</title><summary type='text'>Tenho dentro da memória,em repouso aveludado.Quase como porta-jóia,seu rosto emoldurado.Habitante espaçosa,não nego que você seja.Mas jamais declinaria,tão astuta que sou,que sua mão estenderia,eterna e fraterna gentileza.Se tem em mim,terras cardinais vastas...Não foi por invasão, enfim,foi por me carinhar com suas graças.Sei que os dias,entre nossos sonhos declarados.Já se vão longe,Ternos, </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/7337252373811174531/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=7337252373811174531' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/7337252373811174531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/7337252373811174531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/12/amizade-vos.html' title='Amiga-vos'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-4922458302283839966</id><published>2009-12-07T13:39:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-12-07T13:53:36.676-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Desejo uma paixão tranquila.Emoção no lugar da ilusão.E a euforia reinventada em profunda alegria.Amor em estado de graça.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/4922458302283839966/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=4922458302283839966' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/4922458302283839966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/4922458302283839966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/12/desejo-uma-paixao-tranquila.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-193358300788987056</id><published>2009-11-30T19:07:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2009-12-03T12:48:56.891-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Infernal</title><summary type='text'> 	&lt;!-- 		@page { margin: 2cm } 		P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } 	--&gt;Rio, filial. Matriz, inferno. Do céu absoluto, azul interminável, veem-se pequenos flocos, como neve no inverno. É chuva do ar, nós, condicionados, a respirar.  Flores nos vestidos, nos jardins. Eles espiam. O vento, cúmplice. Tempestade? Não, saias voadoras!  O sol, onipresente. O suor amolece, nos faz brilhantes. Irradia divina </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/193358300788987056/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=193358300788987056' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/193358300788987056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/193358300788987056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/11/infernal.html' title='Infernal'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-6572573741092207549</id><published>2009-11-30T08:55:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T08:57:10.770-03:00</updated><title type='text'>A vida</title><summary type='text'>A vida gira,dá cambalhota, desvira os rumos,ruma incauta.A vida grita,“eu sou humana!”e chora de vergonha.A vida chama,acolhe, ama,e depois vai embora.A vida muda,se cansa, se mata,se deixa num instante.A vida segue,faz milagres, sorrisos,faz o que der vontade.A vida migra,mingua, morna,derrete em poça.A vida cala,sente a ferida,deixa ir o tempo.A vida se zanga,jura que agora,nunca mais.A vida </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/6572573741092207549/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=6572573741092207549' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/6572573741092207549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/6572573741092207549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/11/vida.html' title='A vida'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-7571073397230156021</id><published>2009-11-24T14:59:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2009-11-24T15:01:29.159-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Desencontro.</title><summary type='text'> 	&lt;!-- 		@page { margin: 2cm } 		P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } 	--&gt; 	 Você teve em parte o meu corpo, nem meu corpo inteiro. Você teve meus pelos eriçados, até minha pele quente. Você teve alguns momentos, minha boca úmida. Você teve frações do meu olhar, meus olhos fugidios. Você teve suas mãos, meu corpo liquefeito. Você teve seus desejos, minha mente distante. Você teve suas dúvidas, minhas </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/7571073397230156021/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=7571073397230156021' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/7571073397230156021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/7571073397230156021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/11/desencontro.html' title='Desencontro.'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-5742982955178355300</id><published>2009-11-11T11:43:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T11:49:06.846-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Tapete furado, poeira de gente</title><summary type='text'>  Tapete furado Céu do Sul Distância Visões de rachaduras Buracos.   Acima só há luz e o pouco que vemos se eleva Rasgos cadentes abrem espaços na trama emaranhada da luz.   Astros são rombos Lua e Sol, fendas sem costuraAstros são rasgos gastos de muitos cometas passados Aqueles que romperam o tapete para a luz da alegria invadir Sem licença, invade, alegra e traz esperança Espera de encontrar a</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/5742982955178355300/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=5742982955178355300' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/5742982955178355300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/5742982955178355300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/11/tapete-furado-poeira-de-gente.html' title='Tapete furado, poeira de gente'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-4502752777716394195</id><published>2009-11-03T12:25:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T14:27:05.429-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'> 	&lt;!-- 		@page { margin: 2cm } 		P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } 	--&gt; 	 Mulher, como a lua.Mulher, como a lua, não vive um mês, vive um ciclo. O primeiro dia, renasce e, pelos próximos treze vai ganhando luz, tem sua silhueta preenchida pouco a pouco, como um registro fotográfico da aparição de um sorriso. Olhos brilhando, cabelos macios e pele de pétala de rosas: tudo convida ao pecado, ao deleite.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/4502752777716394195/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=4502752777716394195' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/4502752777716394195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/4502752777716394195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/11/mulher-como-lua-nao-vive-um-mes-vive-um.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-5954226555302155292</id><published>2009-10-28T12:48:00.009-03:00</published><updated>2009-11-17T13:29:37.179-03:00</updated><title type='text'>O 12 é perfeito.</title><summary type='text'>Eu não escolhi o dia do meu nascimento, foi ideia da minha mãe. No dia 12, um médico intrometido invadiu minha praia e me tirou da tranquilidade da minha água quentinha. Nem chorei, só de raiva. De castigo, levei uma palmada e tive que reclamar para não me confundirem com um saco de pancadas de quase 4kg. Minha mãe escolheu essa data por achar bonita, sem saber que esse número tem significados </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/5954226555302155292/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=5954226555302155292' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/5954226555302155292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/5954226555302155292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/10/o-12-e-perfeito.html' title='O 12 é perfeito.'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-7354971218822552438</id><published>2009-10-28T12:48:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2009-10-28T12:48:55.260-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Sentimentos, esse meninos levados. A gente nunca sabe o que eles vão aprontar...</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/7354971218822552438/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=7354971218822552438' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/7354971218822552438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/7354971218822552438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/10/sentimentos-esse-meninos-levados.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-2387743634375022638</id><published>2009-10-26T11:20:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T12:06:39.680-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>My work is the way I change the world, but you are my reason to do it.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2387743634375022638/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=2387743634375022638' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2387743634375022638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2387743634375022638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/10/my-work-is-way-i-change-world-but-you.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-916682196481091284</id><published>2009-10-23T12:43:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-10-23T12:46:59.844-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Meu espelho,a vida levou,a saudade pisou.E minha alegria recriou.Deixei ela sera felicidade que já me habitava,mas não me decorava.Agora, as luzes estão acesas,a porta pintada de cor berrante.E nas janelas,correm leves cortinasdo amanhã muito melhor.Alexandre Soma.http://www.cromossoma.com.br/</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/916682196481091284/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=916682196481091284' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/916682196481091284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/916682196481091284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/10/meu-espelho-vida-levou-saudade-pisou.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-2842192908884850972</id><published>2009-10-14T09:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T09:58:14.502-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Seguimos juntas.</title><summary type='text'>Sou amiga do tempo.Sei do que gosto, do que não gosto.Sei o que quero...Só não sei quando.Onde e com quem.Tudo é surpresa e previsível.Aleatório e óbvio.Emocionante e banal.Gosto de pensar e fingir que não sei.Brinco de faz-de-conta.Não levo dúvidas à sério.Elas são irônicas, engraçadas.Posso rir com raiva.Posso achar graça nenhuma.Posso encontrar nada.Ainda sim é resposta.Do nada, do </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2842192908884850972/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=2842192908884850972' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2842192908884850972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2842192908884850972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/10/seguimos-juntas.html' title='Seguimos juntas.'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-4739448389678339612</id><published>2009-10-13T16:44:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-13T16:47:37.413-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>"_Como alguém aprende a fazer poesia?_Caminhe pela encosta, preste atenção a todos os detalhes que as metáforas surgirão naturalmente."(O carteiro e o poeta - filme)</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/4739448389678339612/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=4739448389678339612' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/4739448389678339612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/4739448389678339612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/10/como-alguem-aprende-fazer-poesia.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ilct435Fc2U/StTnEQgjwcI/AAAAAAAAARs/RjzcDaIZuSA/s72-c/car5.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-5549580953916611340</id><published>2009-10-13T10:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-13T10:23:49.133-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Vestígios</title><summary type='text'>Porque?São ângulos que engolem meu pouco e nossa parte.Marcas de batom num guardanapo esquecido, molhado, que numa fatia da vida cala o momento, descuida...Uma lágrima?Desce e refresca-me sem querer como memórias de pureza.Um beijo e sua cabeça em meu peito, um encaixe, uma viga da vida que balança todos os dias, terremoto...Vaidade?Tenho quando te faço rir enquanto flutua no céu da minha </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/5549580953916611340/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=5549580953916611340' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/5549580953916611340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/5549580953916611340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/10/vestigios.html' title='Vestígios'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-736310593661220013</id><published>2009-10-10T09:42:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T09:44:56.680-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Momento pára-choque de caminhão.</title><summary type='text'>O amor é como uma viagem de ônibus para a Bahia: antes de chegar no acarajé, tem muita parada pra fazer lanchinho no caminho.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/736310593661220013/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=736310593661220013' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/736310593661220013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/736310593661220013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/10/momento-para-choque-de-caminhao.html' title='Momento pára-choque de caminhão.'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-2265364682336729939</id><published>2009-09-23T12:12:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T12:12:40.290-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'> BlogBlogs.Com.Br </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2265364682336729939/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=2265364682336729939' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2265364682336729939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2265364682336729939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/09/blogblogs.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-6592573146833946230</id><published>2009-09-16T09:53:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-16T21:47:20.222-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Qual o seu melhor defeito?</title><summary type='text'>Noutro dia pedi a uma amiga que listasse meus principais defeitos e minhas principais qualidades. Ela não só listou, como também explicou cada uma dessas características, apontando o lado positivo e negativo de cada uma delas. Ela sempre acreditou que tudo tem um lado bom e um ruim. Eu, hoje em dia, entendo isso e concordo com ela.O que mais me chamou atenção foi o determinismo:  a principal </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/6592573146833946230/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=6592573146833946230' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/6592573146833946230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/6592573146833946230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/09/qual-o-seu-melhor-defeito.html' title='Qual o seu melhor defeito?'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-2825823983711742648</id><published>2009-09-16T09:53:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-16T09:54:40.975-04:00</updated><title type='text'>O que você quer ser quando crescer?</title><summary type='text'>Alguns vão dizer que você está ficando velho, pra desafiar seu estado de espírito. Mas você está se sentindo tão leve... O telefone toca o dia todo, as mensagens chegam e cada uma dessas palavras são ingredientes de uma infalível receita de juventude. Você vai receber carinho, abraços e notar que alguns te esqueceram e outros foram esquecidos por você. É hora de reatar amizades ou perdê-las pra </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2825823983711742648/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=2825823983711742648' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2825823983711742648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2825823983711742648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/09/o-que-voce-quer-ser-quando-crescer.html' title='O que você quer ser quando crescer?'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-4964580391640161632</id><published>2009-08-27T17:18:00.024-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T17:14:10.926-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>O coração é o alarme dos pensamentos. Ele dispara ao menor sinal do amor.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/4964580391640161632/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=4964580391640161632' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/4964580391640161632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/4964580391640161632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/08/o-coracao-e-o-alarme-dos-pensamentos.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-1498502907589438416</id><published>2009-08-27T17:18:00.023-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T15:40:54.119-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Se minha vida fosse um gráfico, seria um ECG!!!Um EcG!!!Um EcG!!!Um EcG!!!Um EcG!!!</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/1498502907589438416/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=1498502907589438416' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/1498502907589438416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/1498502907589438416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/08/se-minha-vida-fosse-um-grafico-seria-um.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ilct435Fc2U/Sp_EutaQVUI/AAAAAAAAAPU/stQqbd_gDYA/s72-c/ECG.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-5626826858765713287</id><published>2009-08-27T17:18:00.012-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-28T19:22:51.674-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Agradeço</title><summary type='text'> 	&lt;!-- 		@page { margin: 2cm } 		P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } 	--&gt;Agradeço minha saúde boa que só vendo! Físico ok, funções vitais ok, emoções se rearranjando neste fim de ciclo de nascimento. Mesmo os dias de incerteza, as dúvidas e minhas decisões que, certas ou erradas, foram minhas. Responsabilidade minha, mérito meu também.  As minhas iniciativas, as boas respostas, as respostas que não </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/5626826858765713287/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=5626826858765713287' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/5626826858765713287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/5626826858765713287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/08/agradeco.html' title='Agradeço'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-5796477240307322015</id><published>2009-08-27T17:18:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-27T17:22:01.865-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Três décadas de pensamentos.</title><summary type='text'>Meus pensamentos se espalham pelo quarto como roupas que transbordam do armário bagunçado. O que devo vestir, o que devo guardar, do que devo me livrar de uma vez por todas? Talvez quando pensamentos novos chegarem, eu possa me despedir de outros tão  costumeiros quanto inúteis. Mas todos parecem tão familiares, mesmo os surrados, esfarrapados e que não cabem mais em mim... Foram meus um dia e </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/5796477240307322015/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=5796477240307322015' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/5796477240307322015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/5796477240307322015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/08/tres-decadas-de-pensamentos.html' title='Três décadas de pensamentos.'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-2933447807731696549</id><published>2009-08-21T18:28:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-21T18:28:54.011-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Desilusão</title><summary type='text'>A desilusão é um entorpecente bastante eficaz. Limpa a mente, esclarece as ideias, nos faz pensar de um ponto de vista mais neutro. Não há emoções intensas envolvidas. É um torpor silecioso onde se ouve apenas a própria voz te perguntando “onde estava a sua cabeça?” A gente nunca sabe. Estava recheada de fantasias românticas, de expectativas sem fundamento, euforia apaixonada? Talvez um pouco de </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2933447807731696549/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=2933447807731696549' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2933447807731696549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2933447807731696549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/08/desilusao.html' title='Desilusão'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-6978194322494750382</id><published>2009-08-19T19:47:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-06T18:54:52.212-04:00</updated><title type='text'>O quanto os sentimentos intereferem no julgamento?</title><summary type='text'> 	&lt;!-- 		@page { margin: 2cm } 		P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } 	--&gt; 	   Você se sente linda, radiante, pronta pra se apaixonar de novo. Mais que isso, você deseja se apaixonar de novo, sentir o coração aos pulos, esperar os telefonemas, os reencontros, os bejios... Tudo parece muito empolgante. Então, você conhece um cara. Ele te elogia, faz cara de quem está encantado, é gentil e aguarda o momento</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/6978194322494750382/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=6978194322494750382' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/6978194322494750382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/6978194322494750382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/08/o-quanto-os-sentimentos-intereferem-no.html' title='O quanto os sentimentos intereferem no julgamento?'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-2805456588598056420</id><published>2009-08-18T11:10:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-18T11:10:53.370-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A verdade</title><summary type='text'> 	&lt;!-- 		@page { margin: 2cm } 		P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } 	--&gt; 	   Lendo "Quando Nietzsche Chorou", comecei a pensar na tal busca pela verdade e suas implicações. A sua celebre frase “Torna-te quem tu és” parece simples. De fato, é uma frase curta, direta e objetiva.   Como diante de uma indagação, a resposta mais simples tende a ser a verdadeira, parece que a verdade guarda as mesmas </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2805456588598056420/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=2805456588598056420' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2805456588598056420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2805456588598056420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/08/verdade.html' title='A verdade'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-7862173951039488987</id><published>2009-08-16T14:13:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-16T14:55:06.013-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Dúvida.</title><summary type='text'>Falo muito sobre sentimentos...Me pergunto se eu realmente acredito no amor...Talvez falar seja uma forma de materializá-lo!</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/7862173951039488987/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=7862173951039488987' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/7862173951039488987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/7862173951039488987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/08/duvida.html' title='Dúvida.'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-3396736621200369657</id><published>2009-08-08T12:21:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-08T13:02:24.210-04:00</updated><title type='text'>No interior, o dia leva uma vida. Na cidade, a vida leva nossos dias.</title><summary type='text'>Faz algum tempo, ando me perguntando sobre o sentido da vida. Tenho um amigo que diz que eu tenho preocupações de pessoas com 10 anos a mais de idade que eu. Engraçado porque minha mãe sempre disse que eu sempre fui mais velha que minha idade cronológica. Minhas indagações constumam vir muito antes dos fatos da minha vida me gerarem dúvidas, como se eu me antecipasse. Me pergunto se isso não </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/3396736621200369657/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=3396736621200369657' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/3396736621200369657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/3396736621200369657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/08/no-interior-o-dia-leva-uma-vida-na.html' title='No interior, o dia leva uma vida. Na cidade, a vida leva nossos dias.'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-7668908007141412900</id><published>2009-08-03T10:53:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-03T15:54:04.446-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'> 	&lt;!-- 		@page { margin: 2cm } 		P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } 	--&gt; 	 Você foi o mais doce desatino. Um romance desvairado! Um finito sem destino. Um sem fim desacreditado.  Você foi mais um experimento. Da minha alma-cientista. Em busca do amor: o sentimento! Do qual sei mais a teoria.  Despi-me do manto branco. Há muito já esfarrapado, furado, ferido. Dei-me ciência e me espanto! Ficou, pelas </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/7668908007141412900/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=7668908007141412900' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/7668908007141412900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/7668908007141412900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/08/voce-foi-o-mais-doce-desatino.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-2497215531865783463</id><published>2009-07-22T17:13:00.010-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-06T19:07:35.462-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A casa que nos assombra.</title><summary type='text'> 	&lt;!-- 		@page { margin: 2cm } 		P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } 	--&gt;Casa nova, recém-construída, vazia. Só há o chão, o teto e um punhado de paredes arranjadas de uma forma a nos dar um sentido de lugar pra viver. Um espaço estéril, imaculado que nos dá a sensação de falta de vida. No momento em que você entra num dos cômodos e toma um café comprado na padaria da esquina, quentinho e olha pela </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/2497215531865783463/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=2497215531865783463' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2497215531865783463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/2497215531865783463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/07/casa-que-nos-assombra_4410.html' title='A casa que nos assombra.'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-1245584952143556586</id><published>2009-07-22T17:13:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-27T12:15:26.381-04:00</updated><title type='text'>O início do fim.</title><summary type='text'> 	&lt;!-- 		@page { margin: 2cm } 		P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } 	--&gt; 	   As melhores histórias deixam a amizade como herança. Além de você ter vivido momentos bons e se encantado com experiências novas, no fim você pode andar tranquilo pela rua. Se você esbarrar por acaso ou encontrar aquela pessoa que fez parte do seu dia-a-dia, não há constrangimento. Você olha pra ela de cabeça erguida, sorri e </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/1245584952143556586/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=1245584952143556586' title='11 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/1245584952143556586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/1245584952143556586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/07/o-inicio-do-fim.html' title='O início do fim.'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-343703823670377367</id><published>2009-07-15T09:52:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T11:11:34.465-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Amizade</title><summary type='text'>Ontem acordei cheia de sono, meio cansada. Bom, saí pra farra na sexta e voltei às 2:30, óbvio que me sentiria assim. Ainda inventei de fazer o almoço pra mim e minha mãe. Valeu à pena, a massa ficou maravilhosa. Aproveitei o cansaço e também varri a casa. Insana! Mas na hora de sair, não pensei duas vezes. Mesmo com uma vontade incrível de comer e dormir, eu me arrumei, catei os presentes e sai </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/343703823670377367/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=343703823670377367' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/343703823670377367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/343703823670377367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/07/amizade.html' title='Amizade'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-3877884176091446837</id><published>2009-07-03T11:39:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-15T15:43:00.691-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Homenagem ao artista e irmão.</title><summary type='text'>Gosto de me lançar sem medo, seja num sofá ou em abismos obscuros. Por tempos, preferi, dentre todas as cores, o cinza. E nas cinzas dores do meu caminho me findei e reiniciei minha arte e meus tormentos repetidas vezes. Porque eu ia das cinzas às cores mais chocantes, daquelas que constrangem a retina. (Espera, tive uma ideia!). Meus tons de louco deslocado no tempo-espaço me feriram e </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/3877884176091446837/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=3877884176091446837' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/3877884176091446837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/3877884176091446837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/07/homenagem-ao-artista-e-irmao.html' title='Homenagem ao artista e irmão.'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-4478989956447956801</id><published>2009-06-24T14:49:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-24T14:53:42.884-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Inquietação.</title><summary type='text'>A inquietação não o permite calar, pensar ou agir. Espera-se por respostas sem hora pra chegar. O tempo se rasteja e aquele que aguarda se contorce. Até onde a espera é um ato de covardia ou de sabedoria? Os dias são grandes e cheios, enquanto o inquieto quer mover-se desse vazio progresso. Respostas, tragam um alento de continuidade ou recomeço! Tire-o do drama da impaciência. Livre-o desse </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/4478989956447956801/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=4478989956447956801' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/4478989956447956801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/4478989956447956801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/06/inquietacao.html' title='Inquietação.'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-1353534826305771784</id><published>2009-05-13T17:12:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T08:27:19.233-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Apego</title><summary type='text'>Apego: agarrar-se como quem se prende a um bote salva-vidas no meio do mar. Única chance de sobrevivência, única saída. O resto é oceano vasto, mar sem cabelos, água salgada que tira a vida da gente. Alguém que vê o outro assim, se apega às pessoas, não se une a elas. Porque a união tem sua elasticidade. O outro pode ir pro Japão, mesmo assim você sente que ele está perto e você de alguma maneira</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/1353534826305771784/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=1353534826305771784' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/1353534826305771784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/1353534826305771784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/05/apego.html' title='Apego'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-8065700609533734672</id><published>2009-05-12T10:09:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T10:13:32.296-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Ele, ela e o tempo.</title><summary type='text'>&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;     Normal   0   21      &lt;![endif]--&gt; &lt;!--  /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-parent:""; 	margin:0cm; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:12.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} p.MsoBodyText, li.MsoBodyText, div.MsoBodyText 	{margin:0cm; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt;</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/8065700609533734672/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=8065700609533734672' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/8065700609533734672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/8065700609533734672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/05/abismo-do-tempo.html' title='Ele, ela e o tempo.'/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5212006832416321968.post-8473376745075994941</id><published>2009-05-06T08:32:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-15T15:44:00.306-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Tempo injusto, severo.Tempo que divide o tempo.Você, uma metade.Eu, inteira o tempo.Minutos passeiam por você.Horas me atropelam.Sou condenada do tempo.Você, dele sagrado.Novos desenhosEle traça no meu rosto.Outra geometriaEle cria no seu.Revela meu corpo exuberante.O seu, a todo instante mutante.Seus olhos de mel, magnéticos.Tão doces como o pecado.Fazem par com seu sorriso.Generoso e </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/feeds/8473376745075994941/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5212006832416321968&amp;postID=8473376745075994941' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/8473376745075994941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5212006832416321968/posts/default/8473376745075994941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://meiopoeta.blogspot.com/2009/05/tempo-injusto-severo.html' title=''/><author><name>Mônica Lobo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370048280412306865</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iRspsGHHwpQ/Tbh71E3lgWI/AAAAAAAACCI/u7ZOzv92SYU/s220/DSC00697.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
