<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><rss xmlns:atom='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' version='2.0'><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886907045787051055</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Mon, 19 Oct 2009 03:41:34 +0000</lastBuildDate><title>Samba, batuques e outros delírios</title><description></description><link>http://mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com/</link><managingEditor>giullianamissel@gmail.com (Giu Missel)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>24</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886907045787051055.post-7626891944716550054</guid><pubDate>Mon, 07 Sep 2009 18:28:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-09-11T03:36:27.407-07:00</atom:updated><title>Álibi</title><description>Não me culpo,&lt;br /&gt;nem a ele&lt;br /&gt;por mais que deseje&lt;br /&gt;a escrita dos seus olhos&lt;br /&gt;Nem florbela, Hilda ou Adélia&lt;br /&gt;outro cantante, contador...&lt;br /&gt;nenhum senhor&lt;br /&gt;será capaz de cantar&lt;br /&gt;a minha loucura - asmática,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não nesta altitude.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886907045787051055-7626891944716550054?l=mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com/2009/09/alibe.html</link><author>giullianamissel@gmail.com (Giu Missel)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886907045787051055.post-3607638807992247249</guid><pubDate>Wed, 05 Aug 2009 00:46:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-04T18:02:32.639-07:00</atom:updated><title>Na beira do rio.</title><description>O poema descabou-se.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A graça para ele&lt;br /&gt;era cousa de poesia&lt;br /&gt;moça de pouca sorte&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;para coisas que se herdam&lt;br /&gt;não há escolhas&lt;br /&gt;de olhos postos no espelho&lt;br /&gt;reconheço-me&lt;br /&gt;Nem para musa presto!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suspiro versos velhos&lt;br /&gt;enquanto os olhos na ponte&lt;br /&gt;derramam-se.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alívio,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;não herdaram&lt;br /&gt;assinaturas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886907045787051055-3607638807992247249?l=mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com/2009/08/na-beira-do-rio.html</link><author>giullianamissel@gmail.com (Giu Missel)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886907045787051055.post-3300991667662431330</guid><pubDate>Tue, 23 Jun 2009 00:29:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-06-22T17:30:51.034-07:00</atom:updated><title>Senha</title><description>Que ele me beije&lt;br /&gt;a pálpebra,&lt;br /&gt;o sonho,&lt;br /&gt;como quem beija&lt;br /&gt;a própria casa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Porto Alegre, inverno de 2009)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886907045787051055-3300991667662431330?l=mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com/2009/06/senha.html</link><author>giullianamissel@gmail.com (Giu Missel)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886907045787051055.post-6855817270723614461</guid><pubDate>Fri, 12 Jun 2009 01:47:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-06-11T18:53:01.282-07:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>Se eu na costura da tua linha não encaixasse&lt;br /&gt;como saberia a qualquer tempo quando repousas teus cabelos em minha pele&lt;br /&gt;e o compasso das tuas vogais deliciosas que suspiras em meu ouvido?&lt;br /&gt;Não poeta, não suplica&lt;br /&gt;o que já é abismo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886907045787051055-6855817270723614461?l=mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com/2009/06/se-eu-na-costura-da-tua-linha-nao.html</link><author>giullianamissel@gmail.com (Giu Missel)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886907045787051055.post-2668656772105611168</guid><pubDate>Sun, 01 Feb 2009 19:12:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-02-01T11:13:06.283-08:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>Ando devagar&lt;br /&gt;Nem para discordar&lt;br /&gt;Não tenho disposição&lt;br /&gt;Ando devagar&lt;br /&gt;Chove tanto esses dias&lt;br /&gt;Estão lavando as estradas&lt;br /&gt;Não estou triste&lt;br /&gt;Não tenho nada&lt;br /&gt;Apenas a janela embaçada&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886907045787051055-2668656772105611168?l=mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com/2009/02/ando-devagar-nem-para-discordar-nao.html</link><author>giullianamissel@gmail.com (Giu Missel)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>9</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886907045787051055.post-1046468064809441800</guid><pubDate>Sun, 01 Feb 2009 19:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-02-01T11:01:33.191-08:00</atom:updated><title>Esbarrão</title><description>Não foi um encontro&lt;br /&gt;Foi um esbarrão&lt;br /&gt;Nada de romance&lt;br /&gt;Nem de olhares ao chão&lt;br /&gt;Uma raiva talvez&lt;br /&gt;Tava atrasada&lt;br /&gt;Final de mês&lt;br /&gt;No outro dia quem diria&lt;br /&gt;Você estava lá&lt;br /&gt;Cheguei a achar que era perseguição&lt;br /&gt;Mas sei lá qual razão&lt;br /&gt;Fez-me frear&lt;br /&gt;E agora não sei nem o que fazer&lt;br /&gt;Foi ficando de vez&lt;br /&gt;No meu lugar&lt;br /&gt;Tanto que me acostumei&lt;br /&gt;Ao olhar pro meu canto&lt;br /&gt;E atirar-me ao seu lado.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886907045787051055-1046468064809441800?l=mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com/2009/02/esbarrao.html</link><author>giullianamissel@gmail.com (Giu Missel)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886907045787051055.post-4539370612117481974</guid><pubDate>Sun, 01 Feb 2009 18:44:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-02-01T10:47:37.864-08:00</atom:updated><title>João Sábio</title><description>Era sabido pelo batizado&lt;br /&gt;de uma fala sem rima&lt;br /&gt;ficou acostumado&lt;br /&gt;E do ritmo que lhe cabia&lt;br /&gt;ganhou o apelido&lt;br /&gt;do seu agrado&lt;br /&gt;Arrastão no forró era convidado&lt;br /&gt;Não era de proezas&lt;br /&gt;como os cabras e seus achados&lt;br /&gt;João acordava mudo&lt;br /&gt;e deitava-se calado.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886907045787051055-4539370612117481974?l=mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com/2009/02/joao-sabio.html</link><author>giullianamissel@gmail.com (Giu Missel)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886907045787051055.post-5568938254400583409</guid><pubDate>Sun, 01 Feb 2009 18:34:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-02-01T19:49:24.493-08:00</atom:updated><title>Ansiedade</title><description>Maldade de um tempo&lt;br /&gt;contado em ponteiros de relógio&lt;br /&gt;na angústia de quem&lt;br /&gt;vive, senão a espera do amor,&lt;br /&gt;eterna saudade, de quem sonha&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886907045787051055-5568938254400583409?l=mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com/2009/02/ansiedade.html</link><author>giullianamissel@gmail.com (Giu Missel)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886907045787051055.post-5008820491270542244</guid><pubDate>Sun, 01 Feb 2009 18:22:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-02-01T10:26:31.678-08:00</atom:updated><title>Duas Despedidas</title><description>Hoje eu vou me despedir&lt;br /&gt;me despir dos teus encantos&lt;br /&gt;Hoje eu vou me despedir&lt;br /&gt;também do seu pranto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dois amores que eu construí&lt;br /&gt;bem no fundo&lt;br /&gt;dos olhos de cada um&lt;br /&gt;agora que busquei&lt;br /&gt;arrependi,&lt;br /&gt;já não estava ali&lt;br /&gt;em nenhum&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não cabe nem revelar&lt;br /&gt;mas o filme ainda espera&lt;br /&gt;ser resgatado&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu saí pela tangente,&lt;br /&gt;simplesmente&lt;br /&gt;p'ra não ser vista&lt;br /&gt;por ele&lt;br /&gt;ao seu lado&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Letra: Giulliana Missel&lt;br /&gt;Música: Leeh&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886907045787051055-5008820491270542244?l=mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com/2009/02/duas-despedidas.html</link><author>giullianamissel@gmail.com (Giu Missel)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886907045787051055.post-8738300689495805424</guid><pubDate>Tue, 27 Jan 2009 19:19:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-01-27T11:44:53.481-08:00</atom:updated><title>Ensaio</title><description>Arranho as rendas&lt;br /&gt;suspeito do preço dos teus carinhos&lt;br /&gt;Mãos que passeiam, consumismo pleno&lt;br /&gt;Alinhando meu corpo em um jogo cênico&lt;br /&gt;por gula, vaidade, veneno.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886907045787051055-8738300689495805424?l=mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com/2009/01/arranho-as-rendas-suspeito-do-preco-dos.html</link><author>giullianamissel@gmail.com (Giu Missel)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886907045787051055.post-6043613329120227052</guid><pubDate>Tue, 27 Jan 2009 19:05:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-01-27T11:08:18.447-08:00</atom:updated><title>Samba que eu gosto...</title><description>&lt;em&gt;Eu quero fazer um samba pra você&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fiquei feliz ao ouvir essa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Quero ver você balançar...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olhei ele melhor depois dessa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Você vai ser a minha única rainha!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gargalhei por dentro, com esta&lt;br /&gt;o samba começou a soar falso!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886907045787051055-6043613329120227052?l=mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com/2009/01/samba-mente-que-eu-gosto.html</link><author>giullianamissel@gmail.com (Giu Missel)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886907045787051055.post-7303890625607046696</guid><pubDate>Sun, 25 Jan 2009 02:48:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-01-27T11:46:03.912-08:00</atom:updated><title>Heresia</title><description>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/SXvTOec4poI/AAAAAAAAA6s/V2lD-Ff2xOE/s1600-h/89fd03d1da677b03.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Todos os pecados, todos os palavrões, todos os sonetos, e todas as outras heresias, se fossem minhas, eu te daria. Ainda que eloqüentemente disfarce essa loucura ao te ver sorrindo, um sorriso assim contente. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Cantaria uma peça de Shakespeare, em uma sinfonia de passarinhos, como um solo lírico dessas Óperas que tu gostas. E assim, sem mais nem menos, de amor eu passaria a chamar-te de paixão, em plena luz do dia, na calçada, nua.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886907045787051055-7303890625607046696?l=mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com/2009/01/como-piada-contada-do-avesso-declamei.html</link><author>giullianamissel@gmail.com (Giu Missel)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886907045787051055.post-3872088329274641958</guid><pubDate>Sun, 25 Jan 2009 02:39:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-01-24T18:46:03.795-08:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/SXvRFDMSbWI/AAAAAAAAA6k/jZ29yRFZZ0U/s1600-h/forca%20-%20gabriele%20fratta.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295055671590546786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/SXvRFDMSbWI/AAAAAAAAA6k/jZ29yRFZZ0U/s400/forca%2520-%2520gabriele%2520fratta.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Ao que não havia &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;rendido ainda&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;um poema&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Peço tua alma&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;ao Deus que te guia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;ou em qualquer chuva &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;que se anuncia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Peço força &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;para que não te escorra&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;o que já passou &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;leve por tua pele&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;-um dia-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Que não morra&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;entre os teus ossos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;[Asfixia]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;esta alma&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;igual a minha.&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/7886907045787051055-3872088329274641958?l=mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com/2009/01/ao-que-no-havia-rendido-ainda-um-poema.html</link><author>giullianamissel@gmail.com (Giu Missel)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/SXvRFDMSbWI/AAAAAAAAA6k/jZ29yRFZZ0U/s72-c/forca%2520-%2520gabriele%2520fratta.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886907045787051055.post-2572670069674961922</guid><pubDate>Sat, 24 Jan 2009 20:32:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-01-24T13:26:36.463-08:00</atom:updated><title>Samba torto</title><description>Hoje eu quero fazer um samba&lt;br /&gt;Quero subir a ladeira&lt;br /&gt;alinhar as minhas coxas&lt;br /&gt;com as das moças lá do morro&lt;br /&gt;Cada verso que eu faço&lt;br /&gt;Perco o tempo do dinheiro&lt;br /&gt;Mais nobre me sinto&lt;br /&gt;Dama com cavalheiro&lt;br /&gt;Quero um samba bem partido&lt;br /&gt;com balanço e com gingado&lt;br /&gt;Um andar assim marcado&lt;br /&gt;Um coração arrebatado&lt;br /&gt;Pelo sonho favelado&lt;br /&gt;Comprar vestido bem colado&lt;br /&gt;Ser a rainha da escola&lt;br /&gt;Uma gata boralheira&lt;br /&gt;com seu castelo encantado&lt;br /&gt;Mas do que vale esse passeio,&lt;br /&gt;se não tenho o tempero&lt;br /&gt;das moças lá do morro...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886907045787051055-2572670069674961922?l=mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com/2009/01/samba-torto.html</link><author>giullianamissel@gmail.com (Giu Missel)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886907045787051055.post-2429303364887893870</guid><pubDate>Sat, 24 Jan 2009 20:12:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-01-24T12:22:05.843-08:00</atom:updated><title>Olhos de Lince</title><description>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/SXt3-sUurCI/AAAAAAAAA5U/Mto_N4ww2DQ/s1600-h/reg-thumb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294957705837849634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/SXt3-sUurCI/AAAAAAAAA5U/Mto_N4ww2DQ/s320/reg-thumb.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/SXt2-VryWNI/AAAAAAAAA5M/mDGJJVR5VsE/s1600-h/reg-thumb.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Teus olhos são laminas, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;cortam-me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Reflexos de lua,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;vejo-me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;em teus espelhos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olhos de gelo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Medusa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Eclipse&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hipnose Noturna&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Gotas de neve no escuro&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Raios fixos no espaço&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Enigmas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Enfeitiçam&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;e cegam-me!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886907045787051055-2429303364887893870?l=mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com/2009/01/olhos-de-lince.html</link><author>giullianamissel@gmail.com (Giu Missel)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/SXt3-sUurCI/AAAAAAAAA5U/Mto_N4ww2DQ/s72-c/reg-thumb.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886907045787051055.post-2927470733621102942</guid><pubDate>Sat, 24 Jan 2009 20:04:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-01-25T13:44:59.801-08:00</atom:updated><title>Eu sou tua...</title><description>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/SXt0xtpA0kI/AAAAAAAAA5E/kjD_pTCToN4/s1600-h/anjos.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294954184318177858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 302px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/SXt0xtpA0kI/AAAAAAAAA5E/kjD_pTCToN4/s320/anjos.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Sou poesia, daquelas feitas por Deus. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Nasci de rabisco, da costela, das lágrimas e de sorrisos, sim de vontade e amor também. Permaneci aqui por chantagem, por pecado e por abandono, talvez.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Não sou partícula de uma explosão, sou a própria explosão, as galáxias moram em mim. A noite e o dia revesam a guarda do meu sono.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Você já se olhou no espelho hoje?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Eu estou ali, nos teus traços, nos teus laços, poderia estar no teu ventre ou no teu braço. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Como pedaço teu que te procura.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886907045787051055-2927470733621102942?l=mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com/2009/01/eu-sou-tua.html</link><author>giullianamissel@gmail.com (Giu Missel)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/SXt0xtpA0kI/AAAAAAAAA5E/kjD_pTCToN4/s72-c/anjos.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886907045787051055.post-8244226957849370353</guid><pubDate>Tue, 18 Mar 2008 13:56:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-11T20:13:28.418-08:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/R9_Nzbzi3bI/AAAAAAAAAkU/5VfVMH1UqUw/s1600-h/mario1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5179084380020334002" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/R9_Nzbzi3bI/AAAAAAAAAkU/5VfVMH1UqUw/s320/mario1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;Servi a janta,&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto meu marido enchia a sua pança&lt;br /&gt;Senti que faltava-me algo,&lt;br /&gt;Recorri ao velho armário&lt;br /&gt;Encontrei o Mário!&lt;br /&gt;Assoviando ainda mesmo que empoeirado&lt;br /&gt;Cantava encantos daqueles arrendodados&lt;br /&gt;Ele realmente não estava nem aí&lt;br /&gt;Concordamos plenamente sobre o verso&lt;br /&gt;bem sabido, como aquele que dizia:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"poesia deveria ser sermão"&lt;br /&gt;Pobres coitados colocando-se como Deuses.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;É Mário você tinha razão, eles passarão&lt;br /&gt;Você não!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Meu marido? vou colocar para pegar um pouco de pó, dizem que quanto mais velho melhor.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886907045787051055-8244226957849370353?l=mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com/2008/03/servi-janta-enquanto-meu-marido-enchia.html</link><author>giullianamissel@gmail.com (Giu Missel)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/R9_Nzbzi3bI/AAAAAAAAAkU/5VfVMH1UqUw/s72-c/mario1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>11</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886907045787051055.post-619441656031327437</guid><pubDate>Mon, 17 Mar 2008 00:19:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-01-25T13:42:43.972-08:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/R9254Lzi3ZI/AAAAAAAAAkE/tTOMmdzCqyU/s1600-h/Flor_by_J_o_a_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178499521438735762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/R9254Lzi3ZI/AAAAAAAAAkE/tTOMmdzCqyU/s320/Flor_by_J_o_a_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Ontem fiz até um samba dos meus sonhos, foi como conceder-me a última dança, o fim de um reinado, e nem foi tanta tragédia assim, apenas algumas doses sem gelo. Estado solúvel se não fosse o tempo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Como uma grande tempestade sem água, a realidade partiu-me como um raio, a consciência completou os trabalhos. E eu que por algumas linhas haveria escapado, passei no branco de mais um dia. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;-Sem palavras-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Apenas com o velho silêncio, costurando retalhos...&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/7886907045787051055-619441656031327437?l=mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com/2008/03/ontem-fiz-at-um-samba-dos-meus-sonhos.html</link><author>giullianamissel@gmail.com (Giu Missel)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/R9254Lzi3ZI/AAAAAAAAAkE/tTOMmdzCqyU/s72-c/Flor_by_J_o_a_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886907045787051055.post-7512594062376491055</guid><pubDate>Tue, 11 Mar 2008 13:53:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-11T20:13:28.971-08:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/R9aPIbzi3YI/AAAAAAAAAj8/YFBvnph-l_Y/s1600-h/Flor_by_haguito.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176482196774641026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 294px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="278" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/R9aPIbzi3YI/AAAAAAAAAj8/YFBvnph-l_Y/s320/Flor_by_haguito.jpg" width="240" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Eu sou a flor morta, seca e murcha.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Eu sou a flor cinza!&lt;br /&gt;Esse astro que invade? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;É apenas mais um sol de abril, que nasce!&lt;br /&gt;Em atropelos ao meu corpo, passam as folhas bailarinas,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Sobrevoando com saudade telhados e esquinas.&lt;br /&gt;E eu continuo inerte, imóvel, fria. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Sem caule, sem cheiro,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Assim como poeira escondida!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Como promessa não cumprida,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Choro, uivo, grito, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Melancolia!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Mas meu pranto, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;em Outono, é apenas &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Ventania!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886907045787051055-7512594062376491055?l=mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com/2008/03/eu-sou-flor-morta-seca-e-murcha-eu-sou.html</link><author>giullianamissel@gmail.com (Giu Missel)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/R9aPIbzi3YI/AAAAAAAAAj8/YFBvnph-l_Y/s72-c/Flor_by_haguito.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886907045787051055.post-1648233519626043797</guid><pubDate>Sat, 08 Mar 2008 16:18:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-11T20:13:29.197-08:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/R9K9Xrzi3UI/AAAAAAAAAjc/mPucRu4dBxs/s1600-h/Rose_Tatoo_by_harmonic_whisper.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175407136395681090" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/R9K9Xrzi3UI/AAAAAAAAAjc/mPucRu4dBxs/s320/Rose_Tatoo_by_harmonic_whisper.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dos meus poemas:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Da feiticeira à cortesã&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Das putas às crentes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Das dores pungentes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Das águas ardentes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dos amores cadentes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Da desgraça da gente,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Meus poemas mentem..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886907045787051055-1648233519626043797?l=mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com/2008/03/dos-meus-poemas-da-feiticeira-cortes.html</link><author>giullianamissel@gmail.com (Giu Missel)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/R9K9Xrzi3UI/AAAAAAAAAjc/mPucRu4dBxs/s72-c/Rose_Tatoo_by_harmonic_whisper.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886907045787051055.post-3258194765679399143</guid><pubDate>Sat, 08 Mar 2008 15:36:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-11T20:13:29.548-08:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/R9Kysrzi3SI/AAAAAAAAAjM/wq3m4siTiU0/s1600-h/Fetish_by_Tears4No1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175395402545028386" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 304px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 166px" height="166" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/R9Kysrzi3SI/AAAAAAAAAjM/wq3m4siTiU0/s320/Fetish_by_Tears4No1.jpg" width="246" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Mergulho&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sensibilidade (en)cravada&lt;br /&gt;Não sobrou-me nada&lt;br /&gt;das velhas cores rasas&lt;br /&gt;São os dias vermelhos&lt;br /&gt;Sádico vinho que bebo&lt;br /&gt;Gostas que engolem,&lt;br /&gt;As vontades adormecidas&lt;br /&gt;Afundando-me no lago&lt;br /&gt;Da profundidade infinita&lt;br /&gt;Raios que cortam, águas frias&lt;br /&gt;Minha carne temperada com menta&lt;br /&gt;Sorrisos de um último trago&lt;br /&gt;Estou servida à mesa&lt;br /&gt;Mas as mágoas são fortes&lt;br /&gt;E a minha morte, lenta. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886907045787051055-3258194765679399143?l=mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com/2008/03/mergulho-sensibilidade-encravada-no.html</link><author>giullianamissel@gmail.com (Giu Missel)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/R9Kysrzi3SI/AAAAAAAAAjM/wq3m4siTiU0/s72-c/Fetish_by_Tears4No1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886907045787051055.post-7157846847566506378</guid><pubDate>Sat, 08 Mar 2008 00:03:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-01-24T12:25:12.651-08:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/SXt5GhDFuhI/AAAAAAAAA5c/uym3guKohh8/s1600-h/89fd03d1da677b03.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294958939761654290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 100px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/SXt5GhDFuhI/AAAAAAAAA5c/uym3guKohh8/s320/89fd03d1da677b03.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Como piada contada do avesso, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;declamei a vista do teu endereço. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Quantos sorrisos pairam no ar... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;se você vive perto do céu, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;e eu estou no nível do mar?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886907045787051055-7157846847566506378?l=mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com/2008/03/como-piada-contada-do-avesso-declamei.html</link><author>giullianamissel@gmail.com (Giu Missel)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/SXt5GhDFuhI/AAAAAAAAA5c/uym3guKohh8/s72-c/89fd03d1da677b03.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886907045787051055.post-5531107996054877297</guid><pubDate>Fri, 07 Mar 2008 02:50:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-11T20:13:29.735-08:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/R9CuuYTEZTI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/kzMS-QcvjVE/s1600-h/Fear_by_DeadlyMiss.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174828083668346162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 288px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 223px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="221" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/R9CuuYTEZTI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/kzMS-QcvjVE/s320/Fear_by_DeadlyMiss.jpg" width="304" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A distância, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Da noite para o dia faz&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Saudades, o que foi ou o que ia.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mas em todo o final da linha &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Guarda-se um segredo &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Desses de menina,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Um mistério que faz do feio, belo,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;E do choro, um ponto de partida.&lt;br /&gt;Desconfio logo que seja a culpa,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;por saber que, de perto, não suportaria.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div 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/7886907045787051055-5531107996054877297?l=mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com/2008/03/distncia-senhorita-que-chega-da-noite.html</link><author>giullianamissel@gmail.com (Giu Missel)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/R9CuuYTEZTI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/kzMS-QcvjVE/s72-c/Fear_by_DeadlyMiss.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>9</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886907045787051055.post-2587232756059292937</guid><pubDate>Mon, 03 Sep 2007 03:53:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-11T20:13:30.086-08:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/RtuJDeys6KI/AAAAAAAAALw/6cKJO66cIWs/s1600-h/618498-large.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5105825295452924066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/RtuJDeys6KI/AAAAAAAAALw/6cKJO66cIWs/s400/618498-large.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Depois do carnaval, o brasileiro, incluindo eu, entra em um luto velado, por mais que o discurso seja empolgado, e já está sabido e sacramentado que o trabalho enobrece, perdemos com data marcada, nosso reinado.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Chuva e sol perdem a rima, são os dias de março que se arrastam, como uma grande segunda-feira do ano.&lt;br /&gt;Depois da alegria, que de certo, é pecado, semana santa, cada um com a sua cruz, em pleno mormaço..voltam à cantar, é feriado.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/7886907045787051055-2587232756059292937?l=mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://mirabolicescotidianas.blogspot.com/2007/09/nos-ltimos-dias-de-vero-todos-pedem-o.html</link><author>giullianamissel@gmail.com (Giu Missel)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kSjSKRo6aT8/RtuJDeys6KI/AAAAAAAAALw/6cKJO66cIWs/s72-c/618498-large.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></item></channel></rss>