<?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-18953368</id><updated>2011-10-27T02:29:15.398-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Caixa de Pandora</title><subtitle type='html'>Minha caixa de Pandora está aberta... Chegue mais e compartilhe de seu conteúdo.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>32</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-68008619578413478</id><published>2010-10-30T22:49:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2010-10-30T22:50:45.035-02:00</updated><title type='text'>A dança da vida</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/TMy9VffOzGI/AAAAAAAAAb0/c7mo0q57xT8/s1600/photo20080726002548.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/TMy9VffOzGI/AAAAAAAAAb0/c7mo0q57xT8/s320/photo20080726002548.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534006219058891874" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; "&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;font-size: 13px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px; "&gt;A dança da vida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "&gt;É só dançar sempre&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;A toda hora em todo lugar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "&gt;Não importa qual a música&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;O importante é nunca parar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-68008619578413478?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/68008619578413478/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=68008619578413478&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/68008619578413478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/68008619578413478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2010/10/danca-da-vida.html' title='A dança da vida'/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/TMy9VffOzGI/AAAAAAAAAb0/c7mo0q57xT8/s72-c/photo20080726002548.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-7654227161817948947</id><published>2008-11-01T23:50:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2008-11-01T23:57:26.969-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Where's the life?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Talvez eu não tenha o mesmo ideal que todos os outros&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Talvez eu não esteja procurando uma vida calma e regrada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Talvez eu não esteja querendo o melhor carro do estacionamento&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Talvez eu não queira ter filhos que vão estudar nos melhores colégios mas que eu nunca verei &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Acho que não quero ser a número um&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Acho que não quero a maior gratificação do ano&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Acho que não quero ser uma formiga&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Acho que já desisti de saber o valor real de tudo isso&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Prenderam-se na sala de aula e na sala de casa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Venderam-se por tão pouco (venderam corpo, consciência e coração)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Perderam o desejo de viver a vida com paixão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Esqueceram o que são desejo, vida e paixão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Só vejo uma vontade que não entendo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Correm pelos corredores disputa e insatisfação&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Sinto falta de atitude e de liberdade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Só vejo escravidão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-7654227161817948947?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/7654227161817948947/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=7654227161817948947&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/7654227161817948947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/7654227161817948947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2008/11/wheres-life_01.html' title='Where&apos;s the life?'/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-3388361359969680265</id><published>2008-07-25T15:30:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2008-07-25T15:46:08.931-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Algumas dúvias, nada mais</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIofS3hjg3I/AAAAAAAAAQU/z28__JKXB38/s1600-h/Imagem008.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIofS3hjg3I/AAAAAAAAAQU/z28__JKXB38/s320/Imagem008.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227024726519677810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;As vezes me pergunto&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;aquelas dúvidas bobas&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;perguntas retóricas&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;que nem Deus sabe a resposta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;será que é alguma coisa?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;será que só eu me importo com as coisas?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;será que significou alguma coisa?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;por que as pessoas parecem tão frias?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;por que está tudo tão banalizado?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;por que as pessoas se tornaram descartáveis?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;qual o problema em não sorrir o tempo todo?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;qual o problema em ser verdadeiro?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;qual o problema em querer ir embora cedo?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;e se eu mudar de idéia?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;e se eu não quiser mais?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;e se acharem ruim?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;o que eu faço?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;o que eu falo?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;me calo?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-3388361359969680265?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/3388361359969680265/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=3388361359969680265&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/3388361359969680265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/3388361359969680265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2008/07/algumas-dvias-nada-mais.html' title='Algumas dúvias, nada mais'/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIofS3hjg3I/AAAAAAAAAQU/z28__JKXB38/s72-c/Imagem008.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-6988990214943571116</id><published>2008-07-23T22:54:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2008-07-23T23:04:27.601-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Só uma noite</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;É só uma noite, mas não é só mais uma, e não é qualquer uma. É a noite que &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;ela desejava, mas não exatamente como ela desejava. Ela a desejava. Ela o &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;desejava. Caminha ao encontro de seu desejo, música nos ouvidos, frio nas &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;mãos, no corpo calor e na cabeça um pouco de confusão. Ela caminha porque &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;a busca é incessante, traz dúvida e insegurança porém traz juntamente &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;emoção. Ela pára, chega ao encontro mas não o encontra, ela liga, ele a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;encontra. Ela se encontra. E encontra todos, os outros. Um toque de &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;decepção. Ele um pouco distante, ela meio perdida. Mas eis que a noite &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;começa, finalmente começa. Ela se diverte entre sorrisos e falas, ao som &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;de um jazz-aberto-totalmente-livre e sob a baixa luz vinda do palco. Ela &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;aproveita a noite. Ela troca suas dúvidas e inseguranças por uma deliciosa &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;sensação de alegria. Prazer de estar onde está e com quem está. Ela, ele; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;ele, ela, todos. Ele e ela, ainda mais. Ela descobre que é tudo muito mais &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;do que ela queria. Ela enxerga encanto onde achava que não existia. Agora &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;o som silencia, a luz fica clara. A noite está prestes a acabar. Ela se &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;despede, ele se despede. Um beijo. Ela caminha devagar, sem olhar pra &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;trás. Ainda sem entender, sem querer muito entender. Sorrindo por dentro. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Foi só uma noite.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-6988990214943571116?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/6988990214943571116/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=6988990214943571116&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/6988990214943571116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/6988990214943571116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2008/07/s-uma-noite.html' title='Só uma noite'/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-6159158524679098272</id><published>2008-06-26T00:50:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2008-06-26T00:56:59.495-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Como se fosse um filme</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SGMSoE8EzVI/AAAAAAAAAMw/LI4nsXneSSk/s1600-h/DSC01074.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SGMSoE8EzVI/AAAAAAAAAMw/LI4nsXneSSk/s320/DSC01074.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216033273154948434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Como se fosse um filme.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Minha mente a sala de cimena&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;vez em quando sento, assisto, revivo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Como se fosse real&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;assim, como se fosse um filme.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-6159158524679098272?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/6159158524679098272/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=6159158524679098272&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/6159158524679098272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/6159158524679098272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2008/06/como-se-fosse-um-filme.html' title='Como se fosse um filme'/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SGMSoE8EzVI/AAAAAAAAAMw/LI4nsXneSSk/s72-c/DSC01074.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-5257697682329882350</id><published>2008-06-22T18:28:00.006-03:00</published><updated>2008-06-25T20:24:43.366-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Render-se</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SGLS73rIAHI/AAAAAAAAAMo/-k6LcxWnrYA/s1600-h/DSC00987.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SGLS73rIAHI/AAAAAAAAAMo/-k6LcxWnrYA/s320/DSC00987.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215963244447400050" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;O dia é hoje.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;A hora é agora.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daqui há pouco eu não sei.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amanhã não tenho idéia.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A canção rola.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Já perdi as horas.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Já não me importa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Me entrego...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emoção transborda!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-5257697682329882350?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/5257697682329882350/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=5257697682329882350&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/5257697682329882350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/5257697682329882350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2008/06/o-dia-hoje.html' title='Render-se'/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SGLS73rIAHI/AAAAAAAAAMo/-k6LcxWnrYA/s72-c/DSC00987.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-5844506193971702351</id><published>2008-06-21T13:06:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2008-08-03T18:29:28.536-03:00</updated><title type='text'>As tentações</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SF696TI27VI/AAAAAAAAAMI/GvxMhQaJs_4/s1600-h/1937640.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SF696TI27VI/AAAAAAAAAMI/GvxMhQaJs_4/s320/1937640.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214814227809103186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;"Cada impulso que tentamos controlar fica remoendo a nossa cabeça e nos envenena. Uma vez que peca, o corpo não tem mais nada a ver com o pecado cometido, pois a ação é um meio de purificação. A única maneira de nos livrarmos da tentação é nos rendendo á ela; se lhe opomos resistência, nossa alma adoece, obcecada pelas coisas que proibiu a si mesma."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Oscar Wilde&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-5844506193971702351?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/5844506193971702351/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=5844506193971702351&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/5844506193971702351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/5844506193971702351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2008/06/as-tentaes.html' title='As tentações'/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SF696TI27VI/AAAAAAAAAMI/GvxMhQaJs_4/s72-c/1937640.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-4449174209498718888</id><published>2008-05-31T13:31:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2008-05-31T13:43:51.238-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Just like balloons flying around</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SEF_GlMbPOI/AAAAAAAAAL4/GLzoMb4nQek/s1600-h/justwannahavefun.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SEF_GlMbPOI/AAAAAAAAAL4/GLzoMb4nQek/s320/justwannahavefun.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5206582395257175266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;As idéias nessas duas últimas semanas surgiram mas foram embora como balões flutuando no ar que eu não agarrei... tentarei subir até as estrelas e ver se as encontro por lá... haha.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;hasta la vista, babies!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-4449174209498718888?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/4449174209498718888/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=4449174209498718888&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/4449174209498718888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/4449174209498718888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2008/05/just-like-balloons-flying-around.html' title='Just like balloons flying around'/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SEF_GlMbPOI/AAAAAAAAAL4/GLzoMb4nQek/s72-c/justwannahavefun.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-2688116260819235072</id><published>2008-05-18T22:21:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2008-05-18T22:40:42.115-03:00</updated><title type='text'>A farsa</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SDDZPj5a9gI/AAAAAAAAALw/aD9l4Hw-_QA/s1600-h/DSC00344.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SDDZPj5a9gI/AAAAAAAAALw/aD9l4Hw-_QA/s320/DSC00344.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5201896430970271234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Existe um desejo maior, um impulso que me faz sentir vontade de passar mão &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;na mesa e ver tudo cair no chão: livros, dicionários, papéis, canetas e &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;toda essa farsa. Digo que ando na contra-mão mas não deixo todos os dias &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;de cumprir minhas obrigações como o operário que entra na firma sabendo &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;como vai ser seu dia. Sou só mais uma falando dos anseios internos e &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;coletivos, acreditando que que tenho controle sobre meus atos, mas deixo &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;que eles me controlem. Ás vezes me falta a paixão que eu preciso pra &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;viver, talvez ela tenha me faltado muito ultimamente, então me apego ás &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;obrigações e finjo que estou as cumprindo verdade.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; Essa crise com o mundo, esse não conformismo, esse medo de estar entrando em uma fila única, essa aflição de ter que fazer novas escolhas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; Então abandono a vida regrada mas não o faço por inteiro, são apenas momentos. Amanhã é &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;segunda-feira, dia de acordar cedo e tentar encontrar motivações pra &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;semana que vai se repetir. Talvez eu seja só mais uma que grita por dentro &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;e se cala pra verdade, talvez eu seja uma entre os poucos que assumem que &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;tudo isso é uma farsa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-2688116260819235072?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/2688116260819235072/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=2688116260819235072&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/2688116260819235072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/2688116260819235072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2008/05/farsa.html' title='A farsa'/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SDDZPj5a9gI/AAAAAAAAALw/aD9l4Hw-_QA/s72-c/DSC00344.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-2939249644499810544</id><published>2008-05-17T19:16:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2008-05-17T19:31:25.741-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Incompletos ou inacabados?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SC9atj5a9cI/AAAAAAAAALQ/bbddwETwtRk/s1600-h/1210907792_f.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SC9atj5a9cI/AAAAAAAAALQ/bbddwETwtRk/s320/1210907792_f.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5201475833412908482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Amores, amigos e família eles não nos completam, é nisso que acredito. Já &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;nascemos completos, porém inacabados, inacabados, mas completos. Todos me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;adicionam algo sim, entretanto ninguém me completa. Todos fazem parte de &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;mim e eu peguei um pouquinho de cada um pra mim. Tem gente que já se foi &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;mas não sabe o quanto deixou por aqui. Tem gente que foi mas nunca saiu, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;continua por aqui. Tem gente que saiu mas deixou a porta aberta e quando &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;volta sempre traz algo novo pra mim. Tem gente que nunca se foi, tá sempre &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;aqui, mas é claro que algum dia pode partir. Vou adicionando a mim aquilo &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;de mais admirável e tudo aquilo que realmente posso querer pra mim, que &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;enxergo naqueles que fazem ou fizeram parte da minha vida. Cada pessoa é &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;única, é completa e se completa. A necessidade do outro é uma ilusão para &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;nossas carencias, quando estamos confusos. Temos tudo aquilo que &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;precisamos dentro de nós mesmos, é quando descobrimos isso que aprendemos &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;a lidar com a falta, a ausência e a partida (ou com qualquer relação). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Essas coisas podem doer , porém entender que as pessoas são importantes, que a falta &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;delas pode nos fazer sofrer mas a impotância delas não se restringe a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;necessidade que temos, mas sim a alegria de estarmos próximas sem &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;pertencemos uma a outra, sem precisar estar alí e sim querer estar alí... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;isso nos faz crescer. É mais ou menos nisso que eu acredito.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-2939249644499810544?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/2939249644499810544/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=2939249644499810544&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/2939249644499810544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/2939249644499810544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2008/05/incompletos-ou-inacabados.html' title='Incompletos ou inacabados?'/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SC9atj5a9cI/AAAAAAAAALQ/bbddwETwtRk/s72-c/1210907792_f.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-8374650555645582863</id><published>2008-05-17T15:58:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2008-05-17T21:48:28.503-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Silêncio</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SC98xj5a9fI/AAAAAAAAALo/AJe37o_0bZk/s1600-h/DSC00406.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SC98xj5a9fI/AAAAAAAAALo/AJe37o_0bZk/s320/DSC00406.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5201513285527729650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;SILÊNCIO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Há qualidades incorpóreas, de existência dupla, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;nas quais segunda vida se produz,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;como a entidade dual da matéria e da luz, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;de que o sólido e a sombra espelham a evidência.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Há pois, duplo silêncio; o do mar e o da praia, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;do corpo e da alma; um, mora em deserta região &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;que erva recente cubra e onde, solene, o atraia &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;lastimoso saber;onde a recordação &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;o dispa de terror; seu nome é "nunca mais";&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;é o silêncio corpóreo. A esse, não temais! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Nenhum poder do mal ele tem. Mas, se uma hora&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;um destino precoce (oh, destinos fatais!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;vos levar às regiões soturnas, que apavora&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;sua sombra, elfo sem nome, ali onde humana palma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;jamais pisou, a Deus recomendai vossa alma!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E.A. Poe... The Genius, my dear Poe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Não se aflinja com o meu silêncio, nunca&lt;br /&gt;ele é verdadeiro, ele é expressivo&lt;br /&gt;ele é silêncio pro mundo&lt;br /&gt;mas é a voz interior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-8374650555645582863?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/8374650555645582863/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=8374650555645582863&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/8374650555645582863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/8374650555645582863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2008/05/silncio.html' title='Silêncio'/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SC98xj5a9fI/AAAAAAAAALo/AJe37o_0bZk/s72-c/DSC00406.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-2391303032142674808</id><published>2008-05-02T20:44:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2008-05-02T20:52:22.359-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Amores que começam sob a luz da lua e terminam com o nascer do sol</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SBupBClt72I/AAAAAAAAAKo/dg26buMcq28/s1600-h/DSC09719.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SBupBClt72I/AAAAAAAAAKo/dg26buMcq28/s320/DSC09719.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195932430442032994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Começam sob a luz da lua. São espontâneos, esporádicos e efêmeros. Há poucas palavras, mais contato físico e a conquista pode não levar tanto tempo. Contamos apenas com que o desejo seja recíproco. Amigos se tornam amantes, desconhecidos ficam íntimos, corpos que antes pouco se tocavam tornam-se territórios livres para carinhos, carícias, beijos e abraços. Os pudores somem, o moralismo desaparece e a liberdade é experimentada sem culpa. Não importa o amanhã, é necessário viver o hoje, sem importar-se com futuras juras de amor ou ligações telefonicas no dia seguinte. Os momentos são provados, experimentados e aproveitados enquanto a noite durar com todo o clima sedutor que ela oferece. Mas tão logo o dia amanhece, o sol surge no horizonte e como a cinderela só é princesa até a meia noite, o amor só dura uma noite. Os amigos voltam a ser amigos e os desconhecidos se tornam meros conhecidos. um beijo de despedida e um aceno de longe após a partida. A noite passada fica guardada na memória ou é deletada dela, depende do que significou (quando sifgnifica alguma coisa). Situação evitada porém não condenada, é armadilha de difícil escapatória e provável entrega. Não há compromisso com sentimento e o fim já se estabelece desde o começo. Esses amores que começam sob a luz da lua e terminam com o nascer do sol.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-2391303032142674808?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/2391303032142674808/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=2391303032142674808&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/2391303032142674808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/2391303032142674808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2008/05/amores-que-comeam-sob-luz-da-lua-e.html' title='Amores que começam sob a luz da lua e terminam com o nascer do sol'/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SBupBClt72I/AAAAAAAAAKo/dg26buMcq28/s72-c/DSC09719.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-5478348871885233318</id><published>2008-05-02T17:44:00.006-03:00</published><updated>2008-08-21T14:54:48.486-03:00</updated><title type='text'>You can't always get what you want</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SBt_cSlt7zI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/rzKTaqLqaqE/s1600-h/DSC08075a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SBt_cSlt7zI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/rzKTaqLqaqE/s320/DSC08075a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195886719105101618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Passeando por La Boca, bairro da periferia de Buenos Aires, uma tarde do mês de janeiro, admirando aquele bairro de exóticas contruções e muitas cores, não deixei de observar também as frases nos muros, que me chamaram atenção por toda a cidade. Passando por essa esquina, parei, olhei, baixei os óculos escuros que protegiam minha vista naquela tarde ensolarada, li, andei um pouco em frente, mais devagar que antes, ainda segurando os óculos, abaixo de meus olhos, parei um pouco e depois voltei. Me aproximei das escrituras, li novamente. Primeiramente lembrei da música que essa frase, gravada na esquina de uma rua de La Boca foi retirada: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You can't always get wat you want&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Rolling Stones&lt;/span&gt;. Você não pode conseguir sempre o que quer. A liberdade que tenho, a vontade que possuo, a força, os esforços, a minha luta são grande parte do tempo a ilusão do poder. Pessoas vivem de ideais e objetivos que vão sendo reciclados ou substiuídos a cada decepção do encontro com a realidade. São seduzidas pela idéia trivial de que quem corre sempre alcança. O pensamento neo-liberal de liberdade como não ser impedido de fazer, mas não ter condições de fazer. Somos livres mas não temos o que fazer com nossa pseudo-liberdade porque ela não dá condições para conseguirmos o que queremos... Me desculpe, eu não posso conseguir sempre o que quero.&lt;br /&gt;Pensei rapidamente em tudo isso. Devolvi os óculos aos meus olhos, virei para a frente e continuei minha caminhada por La Boca.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-5478348871885233318?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/5478348871885233318/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=5478348871885233318&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/5478348871885233318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/5478348871885233318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2008/05/passeando-por-la-boca-bairro-da.html' title='You can&apos;t always get what you want'/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SBt_cSlt7zI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/rzKTaqLqaqE/s72-c/DSC08075a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-295895131816170075</id><published>2008-04-19T22:55:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-19T22:55:50.477-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Mais que tudo isso</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Mais que um dia, mais que uma noite bem dormida, mais que reflexões sem ações, mais que diálogos, mais que monólogos, mais que desabafos, mais que mesas de bar, mais que copos vazios. Mais que tudo isso junto, separado ou misturado. Mais é preciso. Mais que tudo isso porque tudo isso acaba virando tempo perdido.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-295895131816170075?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/295895131816170075/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=295895131816170075&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/295895131816170075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/295895131816170075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2008/04/mais-que-tudo-isso.html' title='Mais que tudo isso'/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-3912611092827087462</id><published>2008-04-19T22:48:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-19T22:48:32.312-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Na ladeira da vida</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Lá vai ela!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Subindo a ladeira da vida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Mochila nas costas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;sorriso tímido no rosto.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Como pesa essa mochila!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Lá dentro ela carrega o fardo &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;de ao nascer ter sido escolhida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;de viver para a vida dos outros &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;e caminhar sozinha.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Ela sobe, sobe e se cansa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;tenta esvaziar a mochila&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;mas coragem lhe falta &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;para abandoná-la em qualquer esquina.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Não sei se coragem nela falta &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;ou coragem nela transborda.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;coragem também é um dom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;para quem abidica seus anseios&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;para cuidar dos problemas alheios.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Lá vai ela!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Subindo a ladeira da vida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Quem dera fosse uma descida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;assim numa pedra ela tropecaria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;a mochila cairia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;livre a menina ficaria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;e viveria sua propria vida.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-3912611092827087462?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/3912611092827087462/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=3912611092827087462&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/3912611092827087462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/3912611092827087462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2008/04/na-ladeira-da-vida.html' title='Na ladeira da vida'/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-6908721354626904407</id><published>2008-04-18T16:34:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-18T16:35:30.816-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;h1 style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;WHERE'S MY MIND?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/h1&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; Stop! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; With your feet on the air and your head on the ground &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; Try this trick and spin it, (yeah!) yeah! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; Your head will collapse but there's nothing in it &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; And you'll ask yourself: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; Where is my mind? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; Where is my mind? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; Where is my mind? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; Way out in the water &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; See it swimming? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; I was swimming in the Caribbean &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; Animals were hiding behind the rocks &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; Except the little fish &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; But they told me he swears, trying to talk to me to me to me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; Where is my mind? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; Where is my mind? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; Where is my mind? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; Way out in the water &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; See it swimming? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; With your feet on the air and your head on the ground &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; Try this trick and spin it, yeah! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; Your head will collapse but there's nothing in it &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; And you'll ask yourself: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; Where is my mind? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; Where is my mind? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; Where is my mind? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; Way out in the water &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; See it swimming? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; (With your feet on the air and your head on the ground &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; Try this trick and spin it, yeah!) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-6908721354626904407?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/6908721354626904407/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=6908721354626904407&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/6908721354626904407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/6908721354626904407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2008/04/wheres-my-mind-stop-with-your-feet-on.html' title=''/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-4938204774253791430</id><published>2008-04-13T19:23:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-13T19:33:51.255-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Domingo é lembrança do que foi o sábado&lt;br /&gt;É o começo da segunda-feira&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-4938204774253791430?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/4938204774253791430/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=4938204774253791430&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/4938204774253791430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/4938204774253791430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2008/04/domingo-lembrana-do-que-foi-o-sbado-o.html' title=''/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-8271191206447720529</id><published>2008-04-09T15:23:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-09T15:29:52.984-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Aniversário da Pri</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/R_0KMoeAtRI/AAAAAAAAAJc/d4Of3Oi8czI/s1600-h/DSC09349.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/R_0KMoeAtRI/AAAAAAAAAJc/d4Of3Oi8czI/s320/DSC09349.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187313557938681106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Da discreta alegria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Longe do mundo vão, goza o feliz minuto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Que arrebatastes às horas distraídas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Maior prazer não é roubar um fruto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Mas sim ir saboreá-lo às escondidas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mário Quintana&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-8271191206447720529?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/8271191206447720529/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=8271191206447720529&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/8271191206447720529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/8271191206447720529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2008/04/aniversrio-da-pri.html' title='Aniversário da Pri'/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/R_0KMoeAtRI/AAAAAAAAAJc/d4Of3Oi8czI/s72-c/DSC09349.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-7098674812964703993</id><published>2008-04-06T20:37:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-06T20:44:27.105-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sobre as verdadeiras paixões</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Um dia desses ouvi uma pergunta "Você faz alguma coisa que não seja com o coração? Suas fotos, seus textos...". Tal pergunta me surpreendeu e me deixou maravilhada. O que eu respondi, agora não importa muito, o que penso é como eu poderia fazer algo que não fosse com o coração? As pessoas, ou uma pessoa pelo menos, notar isso me traz bastante satisfação e alegria. Poderia passar meus dias com minha camera nas mãos e quando não ela, o lápis e o papel. Me considero sinceramente medíocre nessas duas atividades: fotografar e escrever. Nada sei de técnicas para uma boa fotografia, longe de mim me sentir poeta, tento registar na memória de minha sony cybershot 7.2mp tudo o que considero admirável ou intrigante, que me dê prazer ficar apreciando depois por longos instantes, mesmo que isso pareça sem noção para a maioria das pessoas. Escrevo para exteriorizar o que me afinge, para sair da abstração de meus pensamentos e se tornar letras numa folha de papel. Costumo dizer que sou mais &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;emoção&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; do que &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;razão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;, não preciso de motivos mas de motivação, pra levantar cedo preciso pensar que algo de fantástico pode acontecer no meu dia e não que preciso pegar o trem cedo se não vou me atrasar. É como se os flocos de neve caíssem no inverno não por causa da baixa temperatura mas sim para enfeitar as árvores e o resto da cidade lhe dando um novo aspecto de beleza.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-7098674812964703993?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/7098674812964703993/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=7098674812964703993&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/7098674812964703993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/7098674812964703993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2008/04/sobre-as-verdadeiras-paixes.html' title='Sobre as verdadeiras paixões'/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-5587810960206239713</id><published>2008-04-06T18:36:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-06T22:47:55.535-03:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm not there</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/R_lEV19pgEI/AAAAAAAAAJI/lZwU3WJaeJk/s1600-h/bsides-imnottherelargetiff.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/R_lEV19pgEI/AAAAAAAAAJI/lZwU3WJaeJk/s320/bsides-imnottherelargetiff.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186251587947429954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div  style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;O nome do filme: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Não estou lá&lt;/span&gt;, em inglês &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'm not there&lt;/span&gt;, tradução literal e bem cabida. Mas por que assistir &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Não estou lá&lt;/span&gt;? Não acho muito necessário buscar razões lógicas para todas as coisas, ainda mais para assistir a um filme, mas como neste caso minha simples e não tão importante opinião sobre esse filme será redigida nas próximas linhas essa pergunta se faz pertinente. Em primeiro lugar porque é Bob Dylan! Mas quem é Bob Dylan, aliás quem é Bob Dylan para essa que vos escreve? É o homem que criou o &lt;a href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Folk_rock"&gt;folk&lt;/a&gt;, "a música feita pelo povo e para a audição deste povo". Dylan e sua arma que mata facistas criaram canções de protesto que pretendiam mudar o mundo, entretanto ele logo percebeu que a música pode elevar a consciência, mas dificilmente faria a revolução (Que pena isso!). O filme mostra a personalidade camaleonica de Bob Dylan, as diversas faces do artista, que não devem ser confundidas com fases, são simultaneas, se intercalam, se atropelam, se completam. Foram selecionados seis diferentes corpos para encarnar um único homem. Cada uma daquelas personalidades habitaram por algum tempo a alma de Bob Dylan. O filme é intrigante, pra não dizer confuso ou complexo, misturando história real com mitos e lendas. O que é realidade e o que é lenda no filme? Não sei bem... O que eu sei da história de Dylan? quase nada, não muito mais do que eu já expus aqui. Agora a música, ah a música... Isso sim, me encanta muito mais do que eu conseguria explicar. Poesia musicada, música falada, quase que recitada, em ritmo meio acelerado...&lt;br /&gt;O filme tem canções de Bob Dylan fazendo a trilha, bem óbvio. Senti falta de ouvir "Blowing in the wind", mas pra compensar, a música que encerra o filme, aliás já estava triste quando vi as letrinhas subirem e ela não havia tocado: &lt;a href="http://www.mp3tube.net/musics/Bob-Dylan-Like-A-Rolling-Stone/841/"&gt;"Like a rolling stone"&lt;/a&gt; uma das músicas que mais gosto na minha vida. É muito expressiva, o sopro da gaita, Dylan cantando com o coração, o refrão... é tudo perfeito! Sabe uma música que te faz ter vontade de levantar da cadeira e fazer alguma coisa realmente extraordinária? De se sentir "como uma pedra rolando", pelo menos por alguns momentos?&lt;br /&gt;Enfim, Não estou lá, vale a pena pra entender um pouco de onde vem a genialidade musical de Bob Dylan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/CZGseissqX8&amp;amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/CZGseissqX8&amp;amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-5587810960206239713?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/5587810960206239713/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=5587810960206239713&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/5587810960206239713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/5587810960206239713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2008/04/im-not-there.html' title='I&apos;m not there'/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/R_lEV19pgEI/AAAAAAAAAJI/lZwU3WJaeJk/s72-c/bsides-imnottherelargetiff.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-7390030350095558329</id><published>2008-03-11T14:27:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T16:39:24.653-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Soundtrack's</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/E2snP7rGP6g&amp;amp;hl=pt-br"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/E2snP7rGP6g&amp;amp;hl=pt-br" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A música é&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt; 1979&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt; Smashing Pumpkins&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;, essa do clipe acima, claro.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Por que essa música?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Porque ela foi trilha sonora de alguns momentos interessantes de minha vida. Ou porque &lt;em&gt;eu &lt;/em&gt;a escolheria como a trilha sonora de meus anos mais recentes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Essa música mexe muito comigo: a melodia, a letra, os efeitos... I don't know... parece que meu coração bate mais forte quando ouço aquele toque inicial, esteja eu no ônibus, no trem, na rua, no trabalho, em casa ou estudando; me fascina como se fosse a primeira vez que aquele som estivesse entrando pelos meus ouvidos. Tenho vontade que tudo pare no mesmo instante, que todos os barulhos, todas as vozes, todos os sons existentes no mundo se calem e exista apenas eu e &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;1979&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; para que eu possa sentir cada acorde e cada palavra falando direto com meu coração e minha alma.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;O clipe também é genial, traduz extamente a proposta da letra (pelo menos a partir de meu ponto de vista). Se fosse para resumir o que sinto em uma só palavra, eu poderia escolher, assim sem muito pensar: &lt;strong&gt;LIBERDADE&lt;/strong&gt; ou sei lá... alguma expressão como &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;"Seize the day"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; também pra mim caíria bem. Não vou postar a letra aqui, apenas o clipe, imagem e som, aqueles que se sentirem instigados por esse texto, assistam o vídeo... depois procurem a letra em algum site de busca, se assim desejarem.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-7390030350095558329?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/7390030350095558329/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=7390030350095558329&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/7390030350095558329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/7390030350095558329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2008/03/msica-1979-smashing-pumpkins-essa-do.html' title='Soundtrack&apos;s'/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-7268628631517114110</id><published>2008-03-09T18:02:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2008-03-09T18:05:59.622-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Chalie Chaplin</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Pra mim, pra você, pra nós&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Smile,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;"&gt; Tough your heart is aching&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;"&gt; Smile,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;"&gt; Even though it's breaking,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;"&gt; When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;"&gt; If you smile&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;"&gt; Through your fears and sorrow, smile&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;"&gt; And maybe tomorrow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;"&gt; You'll see the sun come shining through for you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;"&gt; Light up your face with gladness,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;"&gt; Hide every trace of sadness,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;"&gt; Altho' a tear may be ever so near,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;"&gt; That's the time you must keep on trying,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;"&gt; Smile,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;"&gt; What's the use of crying,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;"&gt; You'll find that life is still worhwhile,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;"&gt; If you just smile.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-7268628631517114110?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/7268628631517114110/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=7268628631517114110&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/7268628631517114110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/7268628631517114110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2008/03/chalie-chaplin.html' title='Chalie Chaplin'/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-933851545357545886</id><published>2008-03-09T01:56:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2008-03-09T02:03:20.612-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Just getting out from here</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/R9Nu1NvFNuI/AAAAAAAAAIs/028-w92Id4k/s1600-h/iamgoingtokillmyselftomorrow.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/R9Nu1NvFNuI/AAAAAAAAAIs/028-w92Id4k/s320/iamgoingtokillmyselftomorrow.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175602257278088930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-933851545357545886?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/933851545357545886/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=933851545357545886&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/933851545357545886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/933851545357545886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2008/03/just-getting-out-from-here.html' title='Just getting out from here'/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/R9Nu1NvFNuI/AAAAAAAAAIs/028-w92Id4k/s72-c/iamgoingtokillmyselftomorrow.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-188478669561117335</id><published>2008-03-09T01:38:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-19T22:22:15.649-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Ameaças da novidade</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Porque há sempre uma luz no fim do túnel.&lt;br /&gt;Porque o arco-íris aparece após a tempestade.&lt;br /&gt;Porque até nas ruínas há beleza.&lt;br /&gt;Porque o sorriso volta ao canto do rosto e a espera não causa mais aflição.&lt;br /&gt;Depois dos "fins" se aguarda um novo início e desse novo é esperado que venha felicidade. Aliás, se é novo, que nada seja esperado, que seja apenas aguardado como novo, renovação, novidade. Assim como um mochileiro que depois de uma temporada, arruma as malas rumo á uma nova viagem, pronto para desvendar os mistérios de seu novo destino. O sorriso quer sair do canto do rosto para contagiar toda a face, apagar os vestígios que a dor por alí tinha deixado.&lt;br /&gt;É como a primeira folha verde nascendo no meio da floresta depois de uma devastadora queimada.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-188478669561117335?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/188478669561117335/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=188478669561117335&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/188478669561117335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/188478669561117335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2008/03/ameas-da-novidade-porque-h-sempre-uma.html' title='Ameaças da novidade'/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-5083317748670079630</id><published>2008-02-22T15:33:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2008-04-13T22:16:57.110-03:00</updated><title type='text'>O fim anunciado</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;A gente tenta prolongar, manipular os fatos, explicar o que tá claro, mas eis que chega o fim que já estava anunciado. É ouvir tuas palavras darem a sentença que destrói o que existia e impede o novo de chegar. É como se a primavera fosse interrompida antes das flores desabrocharem. É triste ver, é inevitável sofrer, mesmo sabendo que passa. Dói, mesmo a gente sabendo que passa. Mesmo sabendo que o pôr-do-sol não é a morte do sol, que a escuridão noturna é sombria, mas temporária e que dentro de pouco a luz e o brilho estão de volta. Mesmo sabendo que passa, dói. Dói porque foi bonito, idealizado e desejado mesmo que tenha durado curto prazo. Porém adiar o fim seria maior o fracasso se é pra sofrer, que a dor venha numa só tacada, não em doses homeopáticas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-5083317748670079630?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/5083317748670079630/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=5083317748670079630&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/5083317748670079630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/5083317748670079630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2008/02/o-fim-anunciado.html' title='O fim anunciado'/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-2693269160336897624</id><published>2008-02-14T13:47:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2008-02-14T13:48:47.857-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; Minha poesia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;se calou.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;perdeu a voz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;ficou muda&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;sem expressão.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;sem verbo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;nem interjeição.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;só tem um sujeito, oculto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;que se oculta...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;que ninguém escuta.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-2693269160336897624?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/2693269160336897624/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=2693269160336897624&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/2693269160336897624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/2693269160336897624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2008/02/minha-poesia-se-calou.html' title=''/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-8423013069952938986</id><published>2008-01-02T19:39:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2008-05-17T21:25:44.575-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Precious Illusions</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" align="justify"&gt;Lembrei dessa música agora. Nem sei muito o porquê mas lembro o quanto ela foi importante pra mim, o quanto eu adorava ouví-la quando me sentia mal. Aliás, santo remédio sempre foi a música em minha vida. Desde as coisas mais fúteis que já ouvi (ou ainda ouço, porque não) até os mais notáveis, a música me influencia, me emociona, me acalma, me ilumina e alimenta. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" align="justify"&gt;Quem seria eu hoje, se não tivesse assistido o clipe BasKetcase do Green Day aos 10 anos e me apaixonado por rock ou se não tivesse gostado de Hanson aos 13 (isso é segredo, tá) o que me levou a ouvir Beatles? A música me influenciou a querer aprender inglês, o rock me fez querer andar na contra-mão e detestar todo o modismo e todas idéias pré-estabelecidas. Daí por diante veio política, leituras, filmes, etc.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" align="justify"&gt;E a música tá aqui marcando presença na minha vida, sempre. Strokes pra dançar, Ramones pra pular, Radiohead pra acalmar,  Mars Volta pra sonhar, Smiths pra chorar, White Stripes pra sorrir e qualquer um desses pra refletir. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah! a música: &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Precious Illusions"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;You'll rescue me right?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;In the exact same way they never did..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;I'll be happy right?When your healing powers kick in&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;You'll complete me right?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;Then my life can finally begin&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;I'll be worthy right?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;Only when you realize the gem I am?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;But this won't work now the way it once did&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;And I won't keep it up even though I would love to&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;Once I know who I'm not then I'll know who I am&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;But I know I won't keep on playing the victim&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;These precious illusions in my head did not let me down&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;When I was defenseless&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;And parting with them is like parting with invisible best friends&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;This ring will help me yet as will you knight in shining armor&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;This pill will help me yet as will these boys gone through like water&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;But this won't work as well as the way it once did&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;Cuz I want to decide between survival and bliss&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;And though I know who I'm not I still don't know who I am&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;But I know I won't keep on playing the victim&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;These precious illusions in my head did not let me down when I was a kid&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;And parting with them is like parting with a childhood best friend&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;I've spent so long firmly looking outside me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;I've spent so much time living in survival mode&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;This won't work now the way it once did&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;Cuz I want to deside between servival and bliss&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;Now I know who I'm notI don't I still don't know who I am&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;But I know I won't keep on playing the victom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;These precious illusions in my head did not let me down&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;When I was defenseless&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;And parting with them is like parting with invisible best friends&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;These precious illusions in my head did not let me down&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;When I was a kid&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;"&gt;And parting with them is like parting with childhood best friends&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-8423013069952938986?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/8423013069952938986/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=8423013069952938986&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/8423013069952938986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/8423013069952938986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2008/01/precious-illusions.html' title='Precious Illusions'/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-7474462759509418604</id><published>2008-01-02T18:23:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2008-01-02T18:29:59.788-02:00</updated><title type='text'>São Paulo Mix Festival 2006</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/R3v0NAd-g7I/AAAAAAAAAHY/38clTJU0-nc/s1600-h/DSCD0007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5150979103129502642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/R3v0NAd-g7I/AAAAAAAAAHY/38clTJU0-nc/s320/DSCD0007.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;No lugar de Raimundos e Titãs &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;agora temos NX zero, Fall out boy e Hateen. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Ao invés de jeans rasagado e camisa xadrez &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;a platéia agora veste cinto de oncinha e lacinho no cabelo.&lt;br /&gt;Sinto falta de tudo. O&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;lho ao redor e não me reconheço neste meio. Que saudades do show da MIX 1999.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-7474462759509418604?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/7474462759509418604/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=7474462759509418604&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/7474462759509418604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/7474462759509418604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2008/01/so-paulo-mix-festival-2006.html' title='São Paulo Mix Festival 2006'/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/R3v0NAd-g7I/AAAAAAAAAHY/38clTJU0-nc/s72-c/DSCD0007.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-322662011500481299</id><published>2008-01-02T18:18:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2008-01-02T19:17:31.798-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Um dia... um quarto</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Uma tarde,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;um filme,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;um quarto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;A mesma tarde, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;um som,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;outro quarto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Dois corpos,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;uma cama,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;no mesmo quarto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Aquele som (Que som!),&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;interage com os corpos,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;no mesmo quarto.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Momento que não se mede o tempo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O tempo passa,&lt;br /&gt;o som rola,&lt;br /&gt;os corpos se tocam,&lt;br /&gt;se desejam&lt;br /&gt;se enroscam...&lt;br /&gt;tudo naquele quarto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O desejo aumenta&lt;br /&gt;e cada corpo se movimenta&lt;br /&gt;no mesmo ritmo,&lt;br /&gt;parece sincronizado&lt;br /&gt;como se já se conhecessem&lt;br /&gt;antes mesmo de adentrarem aquele quarto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Os corpos se separam,&lt;br /&gt;o som pára,&lt;br /&gt;o momento se acaba.&lt;br /&gt;Um mão, de alguém, que desconhecia o que ocorria,&lt;br /&gt;resolveu bater na porta&lt;br /&gt;e pôr um fim no momento mágico que acontecia naquele quarto.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-322662011500481299?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/322662011500481299/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=322662011500481299&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/322662011500481299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/322662011500481299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2008/01/um-dia-um-quarto.html' title='Um dia... um quarto'/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-4479292562923361274</id><published>2008-01-02T18:05:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2008-01-02T18:07:30.959-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Se me perguntassem</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Se me perguntassem o que tenho.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;- Um teto, um emprego, várias idéias, alguns sonhos, muitas lembranças, vontades e algumas pessoas ao redor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Se me perguntassem o que meu.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;- As idéias e os sonhos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Se me perguntassem o que quero.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;- Deitar na grama, sorrir, andar na contra-mão, olho no olho, falar e gritar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Se me perguntassem o que não quero.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;- Me calar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Se me perguntassem o que preciso.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;- Pra algumas coisas motivos, para outras motivação. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Se me perguntassem o que sei.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;- Quase nada.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Se me perguntassem o que não sei.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;- Amar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Se me perguntassem o que sou.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; 20% matéria, 30% razão e 50% emoção.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-4479292562923361274?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/4479292562923361274/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=4479292562923361274&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/4479292562923361274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/4479292562923361274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2008/01/se-me-perguntassem.html' title='Se me perguntassem'/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-1760017216166702603</id><published>2008-01-02T18:02:00.003-02:00</published><updated>2008-05-17T21:21:57.216-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Depois do fim</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:arial;" &gt;Recolhi os cacos no chão e montei um vaso pra colocar minhas flores. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peguei as palavras no lixo, fiz uma canção e cantei.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:arial;" &gt;Recortei as pessoas da foto e fiz marionete pra alimentar minha fantasia.&lt;br /&gt;Da dor eu fiz palavras, montei um enredo pra virar história pra boi dormir.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-1760017216166702603?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/1760017216166702603/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=1760017216166702603&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/1760017216166702603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/1760017216166702603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2008/01/depois-do-fim.html' title='Depois do fim'/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18953368.post-113197536159322820</id><published>2005-11-14T11:34:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2005-11-14T11:36:01.600-02:00</updated><title type='text'>HEY!</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;This Barbara's blog. welcome to my "world" &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18953368-113197536159322820?l=poejustbarbara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/feeds/113197536159322820/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18953368&amp;postID=113197536159322820&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/113197536159322820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18953368/posts/default/113197536159322820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poejustbarbara.blogspot.com/2005/11/hey.html' title='HEY!'/><author><name>Barbara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02580300826100836370</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VjJp1O_rIg/SIkC0EUY3TI/AAAAAAAAAQE/l5VVyDKFM8k/S220/DSC07919.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
