tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-311216672024-03-14T00:51:37.821+00:00Fotografias que RimamBem-Hajam pela visita!Pedro Gilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09660748528093253355noreply@blogger.comBlogger43125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31121667.post-44235740890599738992011-03-29T23:03:00.003+01:002011-07-02T22:08:03.509+01:00Pontes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoHNV6xwpr3zW5WRGK9lj_YTtD57_fHZivN-hw5AnULF3NIg9pdGh1UD6csw9L9DPJzBSaKTQPr8gxBf73uCVM9rp_QXwhYKN4ivbLq5sM_8o__kM49O0vOg0BUVXNd3RtfZdttw/s1600/ponte2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoHNV6xwpr3zW5WRGK9lj_YTtD57_fHZivN-hw5AnULF3NIg9pdGh1UD6csw9L9DPJzBSaKTQPr8gxBf73uCVM9rp_QXwhYKN4ivbLq5sM_8o__kM49O0vOg0BUVXNd3RtfZdttw/s400/ponte2.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="color: white; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">P</span>ontes são atalhos suspensos,</span></b></div><div style="color: white;"></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="color: white; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">são caminhos sem destino,</span></b></div><div style="color: white; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="color: white; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">passagens sem tempo,</span></b></div><div style="color: white; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="color: white; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">por onde os sonhos fogem.</span></b></div><div style="color: white; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="color: white; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">São barreiras incompletas,</span></b></div><div style="color: white; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="color: white; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">barragens que se descobrem.</span></b></div><div style="color: white; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="color: white; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="color: white; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="color: white; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">Pontes são abraços das margens,</span></b></div><div style="color: white; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="color: white; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">os braços abertos do rio,</span></b></div><div style="color: white; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="color: white; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">tentando enlaçar os lados,</span></b></div><div style="color: white; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="color: white; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">onde se esconde a razão.</span></b></div><div style="color: white; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="color: white; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">São carreiros sem retorno,</span></b></div><div style="color: white; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="color: white; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">com vias em contra mão.</span></b></div><div style="color: white; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="color: white; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="color: white; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="color: white; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">Pontes são instantes que colhemos,</span></b></div><div style="color: white; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="color: white; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">entre as voltas da tormenta,</span></b></div><div style="color: white; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="color: white; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">nos turbilhões da borrasca,</span></b></div><div style="color: white; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="color: white; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">sobre as águas furiosas.</span></b></div><div style="color: white; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="color: white; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">São troncos dependurados,</span></b></div><div style="color: white; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="color: white; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">nas brisas silenciosas. </span></b></div><div style="color: white; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="color: white; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="color: white; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="color: white; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">Pontes são linhas de um poema,</span></b></div><div style="color: white; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="color: white; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">que entre partidas e retornos,</span></b></div><div style="color: white; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="color: white; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">levam os meus pensamentos, </span></b></div><div style="color: white; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="color: white; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">entre o vai e vem dos sonhos.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="color: white; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="color: white; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="color: white; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Texto: Victor Gil</span></b></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white; font-size: xx-small;">Fotografia: Pedro Gil</span></span></b></div></div>Victor Gilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14504921410387669927noreply@blogger.com33tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31121667.post-3434093284170402912010-07-28T23:13:00.006+01:002010-10-27T15:44:36.162+01:00Noite de Bruxas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">P</span>isava pedras soltas, que brotavam,</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>a cada passo meu, na caminhada.</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>As mãos vazias, nadas que sangravam,</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>grotescos ritos nus na madrugada.</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Bailavam vultos, clarões bruxuleantes,</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>rompem na noite as chamas da fogueira.</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Os gritos, os uivos, gemidos dos amantes,</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>amando como se a vez fosse a primeira.</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Voam morcegos sobre as árvores assombradas,</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>dançam à Lua, mariposas feiticeiras.</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Andam as bruxas nos cruzeiros das estradas,</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>esvoaçam medos nos ramos das azinheiras.</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Noite das bruxas, meretrizes agoirentas,</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>ventres despidos, soltam brados na calada.</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Rodando o corpo, em sinuosas danças lentas,</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Berlin Sans FB Demi", "sans-serif";"><b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">burlescos cultos nus na madrugada.</span></b></span></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b>Texto: Victor Gil</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Berlin Sans FB Demi", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Fotografia: Pedro Gil </span></span></b></span><br />
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<div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Q</span>uantas palavras preciso</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>para dizer tudo o que penso.</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Quantas estrelas se dissolvem,</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>quantos rios esgotam águas,</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>quantas frases vacilantes</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>nos olhos que choram mágoas.</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Quem tombará nos abismos</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>das ruas que agora piso.</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Quem ficará preso às pedras,</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>quantos chegarão ao fundo,</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>quantos são amordaçados</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>nas nações livres do mundo.</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Quantas quilhas vão romper </b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>as águas fundas dos mares.</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Quantos barcos vão ao fundo,</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>quantos sofrem abordagens.</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>quantos encalham na areia</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>dos baixios destas margens.</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Quando irão romper no chão</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>somente roseiras bravas.</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Quantos botões vão abrir,</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>quantas rosas são cortadas,</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>quantos braços vão crescer</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>com as folhas mutiladas.</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Porque só nos aparecem</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>os deuses do apocalipse.</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Quantos cultos professamos,</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>qual tem a voz da razão,</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>porque no eco dos templos</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>se apela à destruição.</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Quantos homens vão morrer</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>até ser justa a verdade.</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Quantos sonhos toleramos,</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>quantas mentiras nos ditam,</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>quantos perdem o sorriso</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>nas mãos de quem acreditam.</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Qual o caminho a seguir</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>neste turbilhão andante.</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Qual é a pátria da gente,</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>quais as lutas verdadeiras,</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>quantos mais irão tombar</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>nas batalhas derradeiras.</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Nas cartas universais,</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>quem vai marcar as fronteiras?</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Texto: Victor Gil</b></span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Berlin Sans FB Demi", "sans-serif";"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Fotografia: Pedro Gil</span></span></b></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Berlin Sans FB Demi", "sans-serif";"></span></b></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Berlin Sans FB Demi", "sans-serif";"></span></b></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Berlin Sans FB Demi", "sans-serif";"></span></b></div><div align="left" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Berlin Sans FB Demi", "sans-serif";"></span></b></div>Victor Gilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14504921410387669927noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31121667.post-15598693155337524442010-02-13T21:03:00.005+00:002010-10-27T15:45:47.899+01:00A Saudade<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnagArVeSnBWadfd4P50ICol7F-uqZ45RAHoswP0MGSNvwqNEGrc1WiCkkiwiOI5FenIw8Em3_-5kpDV4nwAs0v12YhoZatxwIdURNqonTTDlFvmwXQCxCHoKvYbjMPRQRWydl2A/s1600-h/DSC05360-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnagArVeSnBWadfd4P50ICol7F-uqZ45RAHoswP0MGSNvwqNEGrc1WiCkkiwiOI5FenIw8Em3_-5kpDV4nwAs0v12YhoZatxwIdURNqonTTDlFvmwXQCxCHoKvYbjMPRQRWydl2A/s400/DSC05360-1.JPG" width="266" /></a> </div><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CVICTOR%7E1%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx" rel="themeData"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CVICTOR%7E1%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml" rel="colorSchemeMapping"></link><style>
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">O</span>nde quer que viva a saudade,</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>vou levar-te no meu peito,</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>violar as janelas indiscretas que me espiam,</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>urdir uma teia de cortinas,</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>quebrar os vidros,</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>voar sobre os telhados.</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Sem ter os teus seios, </b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>os teus braços,</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>sem que o teu corpo me acoite.</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Mas por fim regresso sempre aqui,</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>seduzido pelas luzes da noite,</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>sentindo a vertigem dos gritos da cidade.</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Enquanto os meus olhos voam,</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>para lá,</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>para onde mora a saudade.</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b>Texto: Victor Gil </b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia", "serif";"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Fotografia: Pedro Gil</span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia", "serif";"></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia", "serif";"></span></b></div><br />
Victor Gilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14504921410387669927noreply@blogger.com43tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31121667.post-7767179340889028892010-01-18T20:59:00.015+00:002010-01-19T20:47:31.891+00:00Apenas um Soneto<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9d0fMwEv2EffZ9QKIbdbcQjWT9JcBkt9LXSrLTVRnGVQSH_go_15d1R256HSzDpOGGSuhI1LnqliNYyLSn3YGdtFGVcr1yENGh7KrLeaLuWRwohanHT_T8Z-xsemLLlh4Wg7vAQ/s1600-h/DSC05286-2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9d0fMwEv2EffZ9QKIbdbcQjWT9JcBkt9LXSrLTVRnGVQSH_go_15d1R256HSzDpOGGSuhI1LnqliNYyLSn3YGdtFGVcr1yENGh7KrLeaLuWRwohanHT_T8Z-xsemLLlh4Wg7vAQ/s400/DSC05286-2.JPG" /></a><br />
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</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">C</span>orre-me um rio no coração encravado,<o:p></o:p></b></span><br />
</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>torrente aonde empurro a minha vida,<o:p></o:p></b></span><br />
</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>o vento forte de uma terra prometida,<o:p></o:p></b></span><br />
</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>as velas soltas do meu barco fundeado.<o:p></o:p></b></span><br />
</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Sou somente a luz acesa, um sol ausente,<o:p></o:p></b></span><br />
</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>a voz do mar nas rochas e nas marés,<o:p></o:p></b></span><br />
</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>quando as ondas vêm bater nos meus pés,<o:p></o:p></b></span><br />
</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>e nos braços se enrola a areia quente.<o:p></o:p></b></span><br />
</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Mas se as rochas despedaçarem o meu canto,<o:p></o:p></b></span><br />
</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>ou o sal se confundir com o meu pranto,<o:p></o:p></b></span><br />
</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>para depois a corrente me arrastar.<o:p></o:p></b></span><br />
</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Ficam na praia apenas as mãos acenando,<o:p></o:p></b></span><br />
</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>as silhuetas das sombras vagueando, <o:p></o:p></b></span><br />
</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>enquanto a noite pede à Lua para voltar.</b></span><br />
</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b><br />
</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b>Texto: Victor Gil</b></span><br />
</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="color: #f3f3f3; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Berlin Sans FB Demi","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Fotografia: Pedro Gil</span></span><br />
</span></b><br />
</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="color: #f3f3f3; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Berlin Sans FB Demi","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></b><br />
</div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="color: #f3f3f3; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Berlin Sans FB Demi","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p> </span></b><br />
</div>Victor Gilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14504921410387669927noreply@blogger.com39tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31121667.post-67631482786267618152009-12-23T03:10:00.008+00:002010-01-18T21:03:17.215+00:00Quero dizer-te...<div align="justify" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Este poema é uma pequena homenagem, para a minha amiga. É também o meu primeiro poema, por isso, peço desde já a maior compreensão de todos os apreciadores de poesia que frequentam este blog, pois sei que não está a altura dos que são escritos pelo meu pai. Bem-Hajam.</b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 180%;">C</span>ontigo aprendi como é lutar,</b><br />
<b>como enfrentar cada dia.</b><br />
<b>Sem muitos sonhos para sonhar,</b><br />
<b>tu falavas, eu ouvia.</b><br />
<br />
<b>Desmedida sorte poder-te ter,</b><br />
<b>pois distante, tu me seguias.</b><br />
<b>Muitas as cartas por escrever,</b><br />
<b>Eu falava, tu ouvias.</b><br />
<br />
<b>Já não falo, como te falava,</b><br />
<b>porque não me ouves como ouvias.</b><br />
<b>Desde a mão de terra que levava,</b><br />
<b>nossa amizade e alegrias.</b><br />
<br />
<b>Já não te ouço, como ouvia</b><br />
<b>porque não falas como me falavas.</b><br />
<b>Quero agora viver cada dia,</b><br />
<b>lembrando o amor que só tu me davas.</b><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Beijinho</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>S.M. 24-08-1982/23-12-2008</b></span><br />
</div><div align="justify" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Poema: Pedro Gil</b></span><br />
</div>Pedro Gilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09660748528093253355noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31121667.post-4744389846761338732009-12-14T14:34:00.004+00:002009-12-14T17:44:31.960+00:00Os Fantasmas da Noite<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkyezA0L2gwVG1jLOJGbDSe5ZBYWfokNbtPHtrw-SmNgwrtXyAB_ZfX1cVedOXiYiRsP-cDHAgwJrLlVN-esxodugGdNRlPiNR0Yk_itoafkH4iTtJUhv8pl-461HP4ucpkcNs5g/s1600-h/casa-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rs="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkyezA0L2gwVG1jLOJGbDSe5ZBYWfokNbtPHtrw-SmNgwrtXyAB_ZfX1cVedOXiYiRsP-cDHAgwJrLlVN-esxodugGdNRlPiNR0Yk_itoafkH4iTtJUhv8pl-461HP4ucpkcNs5g/s400/casa-1.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Q</span>uando a tarde se abate,</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">erguem-se tingidas de vermelho, </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">as silhuetas das casas.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Os galhos secos das árvores,</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">são os fantasmas da noite.</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Quantas mulheres estão chorando</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">enquanto a luz se esvai</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">e o dia se esconde vigilante</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">nos braços sombrios da serra distante.</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Quantas crianças se inundam de lágrimas</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">com as barrigas vazias,</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">as mãos retalhadas, </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">com a vontade silenciosa de ter paz</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">nos olhos e nas palavras.</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Quantos homens descalços</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">sufocam nos gritos de uma canção,</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">enquanto se destroem os muros</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">no dilúvio irreverente da razão.</span></strong><br />
<br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Texto: Victor Gil</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Fotografia: Pedro Gil</span></strong>Victor Gilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14504921410387669927noreply@blogger.com32tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31121667.post-66223631714470603412009-11-23T17:45:00.003+00:002009-11-23T17:54:26.852+00:00Nuvem de Coragem<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYU9cb5PXJX53WL5BSymqEU6_1UVILUYei9cSomPhhyphenhyphenxCU1CznWNE8S3JGhwJvI9bvUMlyQo2G9qJUwhRsTlL1z9tsG1aTHxj80ZdIZFUzmizLuz9apq3jkfHO0YSgd_YtWZxyow/s1600/ovelhas.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407357072466351282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYU9cb5PXJX53WL5BSymqEU6_1UVILUYei9cSomPhhyphenhyphenxCU1CznWNE8S3JGhwJvI9bvUMlyQo2G9qJUwhRsTlL1z9tsG1aTHxj80ZdIZFUzmizLuz9apq3jkfHO0YSgd_YtWZxyow/s400/ovelhas.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:180%;">N</span>uvem que corres ao vento,<br />tens que fazer-me um favor.<br />Leva o meu pensamento,<br />leva o meu beijo de amor.<br /><br />Arrasta a minha loucura,<br />meu grito de solidão.<br />Leva na tua brancura,<br />meu sangue e meu coração.<br /><br />Arranca-me do peito a mágoa,<br />deixa-a naquela janela.<br />Leva-a nas gotas da água,<br />deixa-a cair sobre ela.<br /><br />E se ela não recordar,<br />quem lhe enviou a mensagem.<br />O que importa é encontrar,</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;">o caminho da coragem.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;">Texto: Victor Gil</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;">Fotografia: Pedro Gil</span></strong>Victor Gilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14504921410387669927noreply@blogger.com38tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31121667.post-1377409045744516332009-11-06T22:13:00.003+00:002009-11-06T22:24:35.201+00:00Voa Folha<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKzHZwLGDWKg9iQDD0mX4xSqRABEjP2dEN_ISENG4eWT-cY0BhWtSLWGHWLfJEm3cG-gbtypFSJ8a0wZcIPbzka7UTlwP5LtOv77FEDL2JOMjGRw1Yr_JuQlbOxI0GEGODGKZHNQ/s1600-h/folha.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 266px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401117430095189010" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKzHZwLGDWKg9iQDD0mX4xSqRABEjP2dEN_ISENG4eWT-cY0BhWtSLWGHWLfJEm3cG-gbtypFSJ8a0wZcIPbzka7UTlwP5LtOv77FEDL2JOMjGRw1Yr_JuQlbOxI0GEGODGKZHNQ/s400/folha.JPG" /></a><br /><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:180%;">V</span>oa folha, voa ao vento,<br />lágrima solta no chão.<br />Leva a nudez deste tempo,<br />afasta a minha ilusão.<br /><br />Leva o silêncio das velas<br />e os barcos devagarinho.<br />Vem bater-me nas janelas,<br />quem voa assim de mansinho.<br /><br />Voa folha, afaga os olhos,<br />que tenho à minha espera.<br />Leva-me contigo nos sonhos<br />pelos caminhos da terra.<br /><br />Vem trazer-me o seu abraço,<br />no delírio dos desejos.<br />Quero ter o seu regaço,<br />quero sentir os seus beijos.<br /></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;">Voa folha, vai depressa,<br />que o tempo passa a correr.<br />Vai ter com ela e regressa,<br />que o tempo pode morrer.<br /><br />Vai deslizando no ar,</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;">pode o vento não querer.<br />Que o sonho pode acabar,<br />que o sonho pode morrer.</span></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;">Texto: Victor Gil</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;">Fotografia: Pedro Gil</span></strong>Victor Gilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14504921410387669927noreply@blogger.com38tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31121667.post-19165078152165936852009-10-21T12:36:00.004+01:002009-10-21T12:58:15.377+01:00Outono<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9solTIrDARqkSaJNhb8BLwnugpkZnjBTU7VYC6O3ebWMiRGV4DVkkLww4_SS4_9wzvnrn3hL8afquXFzlLC-8F9FSVwzfP5pxmytaMLRwfp6dYhLShf52hnkkmAYwn-029tfdRw/s1600-h/DSC05246-1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395018416542354962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9solTIrDARqkSaJNhb8BLwnugpkZnjBTU7VYC6O3ebWMiRGV4DVkkLww4_SS4_9wzvnrn3hL8afquXFzlLC-8F9FSVwzfP5pxmytaMLRwfp6dYhLShf52hnkkmAYwn-029tfdRw/s400/DSC05246-1.JPG" border="0" /></a><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;"> </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:180%;">C</span>horam as folhas devagar,<br />com os olhos postos na distância,<br />arrastadas pelo vento.<br />Tombam nos lagos talhados nos jardins,<br />como o sémen do Outono,<br />deitado à terra sem tempo.<br /><br />O vento sopra passivamente,<br />acanhado pelo Verão que expirou.<br />Carregando nos ramos agrestes,<br />as folhas que se soltam<br />dos troncos silvestres.<br /><br />A chuva molha os olhos da noite.<br />Encharca as minhas margens,<br />transborda dos rios<br />que alaga os meus leitos.<br />E desenha turbilhões<br />em meus sonhos desfeitos.<br /><br />Mas não sei se quero este Outono.<br />Preferir a Primavera florida,<br />ou então o frio do Inverno,<br />para acalmar o meus dias.<br /><br />Vou começar a olhar os lagos,<br />onde as aves procuram as folhas submersas,<br />entre as águas mais frias</span></strong>.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong>Texto: Victor Gil</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong>Fotografia: Pedro Gil</strong></span></span>Victor Gilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14504921410387669927noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31121667.post-46027495375185380052009-10-07T10:56:00.004+01:002009-10-07T11:56:10.346+01:00Incerteza<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-gXIpEXrqi0FXy_PsPCPZFgtsAZMwjMfBJfxnlCwPpdpAkNcYVs_mZYRAKbt8lplCOmL2uMOBcK70covl8iu1YOlQ0mbSzzfmDHAgA3LfFhACmyw7fmXbd9ZSnXEZpLy8J7rBUg/s1600-h/DSC05183-1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389808319706824578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-gXIpEXrqi0FXy_PsPCPZFgtsAZMwjMfBJfxnlCwPpdpAkNcYVs_mZYRAKbt8lplCOmL2uMOBcK70covl8iu1YOlQ0mbSzzfmDHAgA3LfFhACmyw7fmXbd9ZSnXEZpLy8J7rBUg/s400/DSC05183-1.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:180%;">E</span>ncosto ao vidro os meus olhos encharcados,<br />debruçado entre as pedras da calçada.<br />Olhando o chão, pouso os meus braços cansados,<br />sem saber se tem regresso aquela estrada.<br /><br />Senti no peito invadir-me a nostalgia,<br />arrastei amargurado, o meu caminho.<br />Sem saber se era um sonho que eu vivia,<br />se um punhal rasgar a pele devagarinho.<br /><br />Mas aqui dentro de mim, embora ausente,<br />ficou o nosso abraço, o peito quente,<br />o adeus de um coração que sangra e chora.<br /><br />Nas minhas mãos, agitadas e desertas,<br />eu sinto as tuas, torturadas e inquietas,<br />porque é em ti que a minha saudade mora.</span></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong><span style="font-size:78%;">Texto: Victor Gil</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:78%;">Fotografia: Pedro Gil</span></strong></span><br /></span><br /><div></div>Victor Gilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14504921410387669927noreply@blogger.com41tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31121667.post-58818628853419926362009-09-23T17:43:00.004+01:002009-09-23T17:50:15.592+01:00A Pasteleira<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXHvhkkbkbylxwOrmOwrJPJ1gEMWN9JUuQU7xTr8If8bW9BemdKsDcnIpxwfjIAC-4GSxuRlN6S3tTCzV8S6xbpkCtFgzYpKQ-mjpi0Iak0hpFq3BAVX4Xbyt-h6v9wTWNdl-7ng/s1600-h/A+Pasteleira.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384704625148558802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXHvhkkbkbylxwOrmOwrJPJ1gEMWN9JUuQU7xTr8If8bW9BemdKsDcnIpxwfjIAC-4GSxuRlN6S3tTCzV8S6xbpkCtFgzYpKQ-mjpi0Iak0hpFq3BAVX4Xbyt-h6v9wTWNdl-7ng/s400/A+Pasteleira.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:180%;">J</span>unto ao velho muro gasto pelo tempo,<br />jaz a velha ”pasteleira”.<br />As gastas pedaladas,<br />os raios incertos,<br />os furos que teve,<br />são riscos dos tempos.<br /><br />Andou na borga com a vida,<br />andou na vida com homens,<br />andou na vida com mulheres.<br />Foi companheira de copos,<br />de beijos, gozos, prazeres.<br /><br />Andou por caminhos de terra batida,<br />ruas, ladeiras, atalhos.<br />Carregou couves das hortas,<br />guardou rebanhos de gado,<br />andou na pesca, na caça,<br />fez do pedal o seu fado.<br /><br />Já correu montes e vales,<br />foi soberana das estradas.<br />Com ferrugem na corrente,<br />junto ao muro gasto da casa,<br />repousa agora indiferente.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span></strong><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong>Texto: Victor Gil</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong>Fotografia: Pedro Gil</strong></span></span>Victor Gilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14504921410387669927noreply@blogger.com33tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31121667.post-77552344996333858002009-09-11T15:08:00.003+01:002009-09-11T15:26:08.064+01:00Tu és Aquela<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMGXzoStHvo8Wst-num-fCYPg4Rl9DTSWdJkarbomXl_6ohyphenhyphenTf2bzyRC27RJRdgcCXN0EUrC5H3bFWidG02zS4lwIjGwdTWEWj7b92a04h8Qx-6KXBHhAWRAPj7DNkEFXgnyUqHA/s1600-h/DSC05254-1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380214679785703314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMGXzoStHvo8Wst-num-fCYPg4Rl9DTSWdJkarbomXl_6ohyphenhyphenTf2bzyRC27RJRdgcCXN0EUrC5H3bFWidG02zS4lwIjGwdTWEWj7b92a04h8Qx-6KXBHhAWRAPj7DNkEFXgnyUqHA/s400/DSC05254-1.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:180%;">T</span>u és aquela que em mim trago inventada,<br />em rasgos de paixão no peito aberto,<br />que à noite vem trazer-me o sono incerto,<br />que vem acordar-me a madrugada.<br /><br />Tu és aquela que em mim arde o desejo,<br />o pólen que fecunda a flor do pinho,<br />os ramos onde vou fazer meu ninho,<br />os lábios com que como, mordo e beijo.<br /><br />Tu és aquela que está comigo em palavras,<br />nas rimas nuas que no silêncio calavas,<br />entre as noites de boémia e poesia.<br /><br />Tu és a rocha entre as pedras dos caminhos,<br />a ponte ausente sobre o rio que cruzámos,<br />a quadra solta que mais ninguém entendia. </span></strong><br /><p><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></strong> </p><p><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;"> </p><br /><br /></span></strong><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;">Texto: Victor Gil</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;">Fotografia: Pedro Gil</span></strong></p>Victor Gilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14504921410387669927noreply@blogger.com36tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31121667.post-281302358435138872009-08-13T09:20:00.003+01:002009-08-13T09:32:22.438+01:00Hoje senti a falta dos teus versos<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIwOOuhx3JLoOx59VHATSDsK61_iSfu0b8cvQ4vSYFAHSDHtgKVoKMmuWU41PdNbDAxzAzonuvI3uurL51E5BYZY6ZAc-VUNAYEuSQMyzhjL9il9kL-tdYTW9sY4cfbywWsjZKqQ/s1600-h/DSC05251-1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369361909674300770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIwOOuhx3JLoOx59VHATSDsK61_iSfu0b8cvQ4vSYFAHSDHtgKVoKMmuWU41PdNbDAxzAzonuvI3uurL51E5BYZY6ZAc-VUNAYEuSQMyzhjL9il9kL-tdYTW9sY4cfbywWsjZKqQ/s400/DSC05251-1.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:180%;">H</span>oje senti a falta dos teus versos,<br />de corrigir as palavras que eram tuas,<br />de transformar os teus amores.<br />Hoje senti a falta<br />do azul das tuas flores.<br /><br />Senti que me faltavam as rimas,<br />que me faltavam as sílabas tónicas,<br />que as vírgulas se retiravam do papel,<br />para se encontrarem nas entrelinhas<br />com os pontos de final.<br /><br />As exclamações ficaram no final de cada frase,<br />envolvidas com as interrogações.<br />Dos verbos só saíram adjectivos.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;">Tentei as reticências,<br />mas apenas saíam pontos obtusos.<br /></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;">Os sonetos perderam a métrica,<br />transformaram-se em quadras soltas.<br />Rasgaram-se as estrofes acorrentadas,<br />entre as linhas de um poema adiado,<br />nas folhas rasgadas e atiradas ao vento,<br />que as arrojava por todo o lado.</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;">Abro o jornal,<br />enquanto o ruído das janelas,<br />derruba as cortinas entre o lamento das ruas,<br />para encontrar outras palavras, </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;">que não tenham letras tuas.</span></strong><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">Texto: Victor Gil</span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">Fotografia: Pedro Gil</span></span></strong>Victor Gilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14504921410387669927noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31121667.post-35905585371737774242009-07-27T11:32:00.005+01:002009-07-27T11:43:30.006+01:00Tobias - O Nosso Melhor Amigo<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTS_xP0p0dq2vz2CpFtIpJzpXsZuPLKbbPhOQD45-_-4ND4khdEu9X3V21U7zjDiq8XrhDrOrQ1ErLxSIZHvpATPzv6bJeQYWBlZT3lwtdMMlDNh4ZfEE6hSRK5pQuoDVWir_cPQ/s1600-h/1266485.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363086195945671234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTS_xP0p0dq2vz2CpFtIpJzpXsZuPLKbbPhOQD45-_-4ND4khdEu9X3V21U7zjDiq8XrhDrOrQ1ErLxSIZHvpATPzv6bJeQYWBlZT3lwtdMMlDNh4ZfEE6hSRK5pQuoDVWir_cPQ/s400/1266485.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyqLsxm8r-fecZJWOS73Fc3tkG1gj6BD30m48LOo3oFKPuJBJ_yTF1L0BXFFqKfogB60eflIQp7Elc6FQasvD3oPQh5huz1lAHzef1rELNsKcH5-1hlac7Jfij6sufO9iqHGtv1A/s1600-h/1740434.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363086113312358066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyqLsxm8r-fecZJWOS73Fc3tkG1gj6BD30m48LOo3oFKPuJBJ_yTF1L0BXFFqKfogB60eflIQp7Elc6FQasvD3oPQh5huz1lAHzef1rELNsKcH5-1hlac7Jfij6sufO9iqHGtv1A/s400/1740434.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">(Um amigo é mais que um irmão. </span></em></strong></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong><em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">É uma extensão </span></em></strong></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong><em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">do nosso abraço)</span></em><br /></strong></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">U</span>m amigo é o braço que nos falta,<br />o caminho que se ergue,<br />entre os atalhos que a vida encerra.<br />É a voz dos vendavais<br />entre as ruínas da terra.<br /><br />Um amigo é a lealdade de acreditar,<br />que nos vão dizer as coisas,<br />sem bater com os pés no chão.<br />Um grito preso na garganta,<br />que se solta sem traição.<br /><br />Entre a mentira das palavras,<br />é um punhal de carinho,<br />espetado no coração.<br /><br /><em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">(A todos os meus amigos e amigas)</span></em></strong></span></div><div></div><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"><strong><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Texto: Victor Gil</span></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"><strong>Fotografias: Pedro Gil</strong></span><br /></div><div></div>Victor Gilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14504921410387669927noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31121667.post-76139882582872574022009-07-06T16:55:00.004+01:002009-07-06T17:01:21.687+01:00Merda de Vícios<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMtBNY6vQlJ7e61W1MNJygHduHlO98g0mKF4LDakkD3wVG4gJ8DacVcCmTlVy9Aqwa05-Y2xKuPLf-dn14dEVvBY4FTCWKhxG_TNMInsgOsoc5j85bdzfBmK-xFJiqY6aqqSR-zg/s1600-h/Merda+de+Vicio.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355376637831381522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMtBNY6vQlJ7e61W1MNJygHduHlO98g0mKF4LDakkD3wVG4gJ8DacVcCmTlVy9Aqwa05-Y2xKuPLf-dn14dEVvBY4FTCWKhxG_TNMInsgOsoc5j85bdzfBmK-xFJiqY6aqqSR-zg/s400/Merda+de+Vicio.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:180%;">C</span>heiro a noite nos restos de uma taberna,<br />espalho os dedos na face conspiradora do balcão,<br />buscando entre os vultos exaustos,<br />o feroz cigarro que mutila a escuridão.<br /><br />Penetro a superfície amarrotada,<br />enquanto os meus pés se diluem<br />nos mosaicos estendidos pelo chão,<br />enquanto desfaço os lábios numa cerveja gelada.<br /></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;">Desenho nos olhos um desvario,<br />um desejo obsceno na nudez da manhã.<br />Enquanto penteio os cabelos atados pela noite,<br />num grito que goteja,<br />sem prazer, nem amante.</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;">Texto: Victor Gil</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;">Fotografia: Pedro Gil</span></strong>Victor Gilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14504921410387669927noreply@blogger.com33tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31121667.post-34982759672470078122009-06-19T12:37:00.009+01:002009-06-21T15:27:33.147+01:00Raios de Vida<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMyOoF1AQN4jPVlgHmhFxIrwSLoc_x3yQlEMcoz90A1BHyzf2YptqPZ2UfOdekRYZsK2nXpYKae2vChhyU1u8PMVl-3gmJTGkjUcxcK4VfHbDj-y3xUGkvhupF0zd9O72BNv4Tfw/s1600-h/As+Rodas.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349002048843076242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMyOoF1AQN4jPVlgHmhFxIrwSLoc_x3yQlEMcoz90A1BHyzf2YptqPZ2UfOdekRYZsK2nXpYKae2vChhyU1u8PMVl-3gmJTGkjUcxcK4VfHbDj-y3xUGkvhupF0zd9O72BNv4Tfw/s400/As+Rodas.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:180%;">I</span>nquieta-me este repouso,<br />estes raios de vida ignorados no tempo,<br />este lugar que desanima sem enredo,<br />como um punhal espetado no vento.<br /><br />Quantas vezes estas rodas se embriagaram de lama<br />na lenta pressa dos caminhos.<br />Quantos segredos guardaram<br />nas estranhas armadilhas que as pedras estendiam.<br /><br />Sou suspeito porque tenho um coração iludido e doce,<br />porque procuro sempre além dos desejos.<br />Sou presa fácil na poeira dos carreiros,<br />um mendigo da memória.<br /></span></strong><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />Sou vendaval de cascos ferindo as ladeiras,<br />temporal de palavras sem história.</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span></strong></div><div></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;"><br /><br />Texto: Victor Gil</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;">Fotografia: Pedro Gil</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span></strong></div>Victor Gilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14504921410387669927noreply@blogger.com39tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31121667.post-64452654720469444892009-06-03T14:54:00.003+01:002009-06-03T15:00:34.604+01:00Sombras<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM1PrNCKZyvaPLLd1Vw0dWGy0YOI5RZKVasNz3dGO5lJWA0IlJmQvvpDY38a2ftq7tw9vOodPvgGdW7Zfat4y_9rBEFoJDsUt1LgL88XB2eB7yy6MOfseQXXG1_Fo8dL2ymhMCEA/s1600-h/DSC027591.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343099775607884386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM1PrNCKZyvaPLLd1Vw0dWGy0YOI5RZKVasNz3dGO5lJWA0IlJmQvvpDY38a2ftq7tw9vOodPvgGdW7Zfat4y_9rBEFoJDsUt1LgL88XB2eB7yy6MOfseQXXG1_Fo8dL2ymhMCEA/s400/DSC027591.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:180%;">E</span>ntre os galhos quietos,<br />apenas consigo lembrar-me<br />das sombras onde espalhámos os dias.<br /><br />A gasta nora perdeu o sentido da sua rotação.<br />Deixou de se sentir o ruído da água a correr,<br />dos brados do homem,<br />dos clamores da terra,<br />dos passos do burrico ao bater os cascos pelo chão.<br /><br />É como a árvore abandonada<br />entre as mãos do tempo,<br />uma lágrima solta no vento.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;">Texto: Victor Gil</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;">Fotografia: Pedro Gil</span></strong><br /><strong><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span></strong>Victor Gilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14504921410387669927noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31121667.post-54880360844285461902009-05-18T17:15:00.005+01:002009-05-19T16:43:57.882+01:00Meia Porta<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDUpmMc2VeFAaaF6Go1lmv-cxBdlTRC1P17AMfk6mUyRREk_8Z5hr9ABqnHA-KEvrQQTncjBXT1lF9rzrw-9SFUQ-wlPG93Jdc01EyK-YQnLvtR9a0hPzEI3GbVraauJKDWGwtxg/s1600-h/Meia+Porta.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337198671913554930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDUpmMc2VeFAaaF6Go1lmv-cxBdlTRC1P17AMfk6mUyRREk_8Z5hr9ABqnHA-KEvrQQTncjBXT1lF9rzrw-9SFUQ-wlPG93Jdc01EyK-YQnLvtR9a0hPzEI3GbVraauJKDWGwtxg/s400/Meia+Porta.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:180%;">R</span>epara no assento solitário,<br />na meia porta,<br />nas silhuetas das sombras,<br />no terreiro onde se inventavam os dias,<br />que afastavam borrascas e ventanias.<br /><br />Repara nas paredes brancas,<br />nas pedras do chão,<br />no banco sem beijos de amantes,<br />sem a loucura de uma intriga,<br />sem dedos enleados, </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;">sem gestos de paixão.<br /><br />Agora o tempo foge nas asas do vento.<br />As tábuas velhas escoam a luz,<br />como setas douradas varando os corações.<br />Aqui o chão,<br />é um grito de ilusões.</span></strong><br /><br /><br /><p><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;">Texto: Victor Gil</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;">Fotografia: Pedro Gil</span></strong></p>Victor Gilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14504921410387669927noreply@blogger.com34tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31121667.post-53657225264612290822009-04-30T17:20:00.003+01:002009-04-30T17:27:23.704+01:00Desarrumação<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5FIKQOF5A2k69nIVWlb8VpU9fb0ssZ4-B8tkD6DS_tOWDJUMuWDeCkH-J5JBnBW0_95ZMJLQcPK5CgNFKud1oyGbyebhhFXxhdZikBs3BSE2zHlCtnh3DT2x-uXZu4IsyDdAQBg/s1600-h/A+Desarumação.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330520333882045650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5FIKQOF5A2k69nIVWlb8VpU9fb0ssZ4-B8tkD6DS_tOWDJUMuWDeCkH-J5JBnBW0_95ZMJLQcPK5CgNFKud1oyGbyebhhFXxhdZikBs3BSE2zHlCtnh3DT2x-uXZu4IsyDdAQBg/s400/A+Desaruma%C3%A7%C3%A3o.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;">S</span>ó a sombra afaga esta fogueira de tábuas magoadas.<br />Os restos da janela encobrem a desordem dos lençóis,<br />as feridas em farrapos, os baús fechados,<br />os embrulhos bizarros que ocultam no escuro,<br />os telhados e as folhas que encobrem os becos.<br /><br />Os terraços já deixaram cair os bichos da incerteza.<br />Alheios à desarrumação decadente da indiferença,<br />à violação dos dias, dos sítios sem nome,<br />às paredes quebradas que arrastam o tempo,<br />onde se esconde o silêncio dos forçados à fome.<br /><br />Digo bom-dia às ruas, mas só as folhas me respondem.<br />Só os bêbedos afastam a Lua para ver as estrelas,<br />entre as pedras nuas, numa cama estreita,<br />entre os safanões no chão descomposto,<br />entre as tralhas gastas, nova vida espreita.</strong></span><br /><br /><br /><p><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong></strong></span></p><p><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"><strong>Texto: Victor Gil</strong></span></p><p><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"><strong>Fotografia: Pedro Gil</strong></span></p>Victor Gilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14504921410387669927noreply@blogger.com31tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31121667.post-48430092939048883542009-04-20T14:52:00.004+01:002009-04-20T15:04:16.230+01:00Repouso<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmO6yr5WarjXqmzlYqj2bIk22IPUshs0tjsN_OUawX_q2oJdWXjJXFct6twJeHOdKRh4Wya7LY1vfrSkaHii9oXv9L6kupAxLPVxFYwUJ-XKb5uHMj9d5YuFIh3L30Df-dVMAsiQ/s1600-h/Um+Banco+Duas+Cores.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326771879257490850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmO6yr5WarjXqmzlYqj2bIk22IPUshs0tjsN_OUawX_q2oJdWXjJXFct6twJeHOdKRh4Wya7LY1vfrSkaHii9oXv9L6kupAxLPVxFYwUJ-XKb5uHMj9d5YuFIh3L30Df-dVMAsiQ/s400/Um+Banco+Duas+Cores.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;">J</span></strong>á que não posso amanhecer-te,<br />deixo-te que repousar no meu colo.<br />Mas só se adormeceres nas tábuas isoladas,<br />se não falares das coisas que me tentam,<br />se deixares de invadir com rasgões as madrugadas.<br /><br />Deixo-te repousar da mansidão da noite,<br />sacudir as ruas devoradas pelo sol.<br />Mas não pronuncies as palavras do silêncio,<br />não espalhes os braços que abandonei,<br />porque não quero derramar-me em teu regaço.<br /><br />Deixa-me mergulhar dentro da manhã,<br />entregar-me à limpidez do dia.<br />Mas não libertes os troncos escondidos,<br />nem as raízes onde eu anseio regressar,<br />nem transformes o momento em ventania.</span><br /><br /><br /><p><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"><strong>Texto: Victor Gil</strong></span></p><p><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong><span style="font-size:78%;">Fotografia: Pedro Gil</span></strong></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"></p></span><br /></span>Victor Gilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14504921410387669927noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31121667.post-16616215439995261652009-04-14T16:55:00.004+01:002009-04-14T17:00:43.935+01:00Para Além dos Muros<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggW7FDDHzrJQTQ6nd1o8s8O-Rtuwhl6aijMnqptwJxFqulArVbYNpzbD1ck2Yvucr_Nf2_nocunXJEI35os_LHEXllo9Mr_FfkjcIEuAY3E0SlvBPZRMxPIKZ2HVImH1wx3jI2bQ/s1600-h/DSC027551.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324576519107288082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggW7FDDHzrJQTQ6nd1o8s8O-Rtuwhl6aijMnqptwJxFqulArVbYNpzbD1ck2Yvucr_Nf2_nocunXJEI35os_LHEXllo9Mr_FfkjcIEuAY3E0SlvBPZRMxPIKZ2HVImH1wx3jI2bQ/s400/DSC027551.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:180%;">V</span>ou mandar arrancar os portões,<br />passar para além dos muros,<br />alterar a extremidade das veredas.<br />Afastar os postigos das estrelas,<br />onde me espreitam só as tardes inquietas.<br /><br />Nada mais existe senão o horizonte<br />a abrir-se ali mesmo adiante,<br />limitado entre os marcos das paredes,<br />entre o clamor da luz do firmamento.<br /><br />Onde a mudez das pedras são lamentos,<br />onde as orlas dos caminhos são silêncio,<br />sem palavras para mandar calar o vento.</span></strong><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"><strong>Texto: Victor Gil</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"><strong>Fotografia: Pedro Gil</strong></span>Victor Gilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14504921410387669927noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31121667.post-58223913905035204612009-03-31T17:34:00.004+01:002009-03-31T17:46:47.338+01:00A Espera<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxEp_VGU5G_n3pPwmpxgs-0KYIHfvYAYFaFujUqw9cK6bM3GcUPi5Ei0Ddwvdvv9Qrmb4Q2HiQ_1Hp9bLuXcCMX6cQYHvEcdKmT_lhQS5DFNX5-J_TmIuirszZGx37_wYd2JTR-g/s1600-h/A++Espera.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319391675350950738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxEp_VGU5G_n3pPwmpxgs-0KYIHfvYAYFaFujUqw9cK6bM3GcUPi5Ei0Ddwvdvv9Qrmb4Q2HiQ_1Hp9bLuXcCMX6cQYHvEcdKmT_lhQS5DFNX5-J_TmIuirszZGx37_wYd2JTR-g/s400/A++Espera.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:180%;">U</span>m rosto perdido, a solidão da paragem,<br />a demora da tarde, a incerteza da vida.<br />Na pátria desigual, o gemido da aragem,<br />no olhar distante, a terra esquecida.<br /><br />Os vidros listrados, as linhas direitas,<br />o corpo dobrado, as distâncias longínquas.<br />Aguardas no adro, o trilho que espreitas,<br />na nudez empedrada, as palavras usadas.<br /><br />As botas cansadas, a gasta bengala,<br />arrojas espadas aos moinhos de vento.<br />Os olhos vigiam na tarde que embala<br />e a noite se acerca em remoto lamento.<br /><br />Onde as sombras tristes escurecem os muros<br />e os velhos bancos gastos pelo tempo.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;">Texto:</span></strong><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;"> Victor Gil</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;">Fotografia: Pedro Gil</span></strong>Victor Gilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14504921410387669927noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31121667.post-21798433235026558462009-03-25T15:54:00.005+00:002009-03-25T16:06:10.794+00:00Transgressão<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAXDLbpScFiq4sH0O-0nlhNAA2zrSGYAi16H8DzKfluJ_c1StAfa46-nlNj5xzdsncsmdowRj4v4m2WJoBs9ptAkHBMLpRaJRVy9qS1gz66xutcNx-sTGQH6mbVOObEpTAOH9xoQ/s1600-h/Yield.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317155256353216066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAXDLbpScFiq4sH0O-0nlhNAA2zrSGYAi16H8DzKfluJ_c1StAfa46-nlNj5xzdsncsmdowRj4v4m2WJoBs9ptAkHBMLpRaJRVy9qS1gz66xutcNx-sTGQH6mbVOObEpTAOH9xoQ/s400/Yield.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;">A</span>vanço por causa do verde,<br />num vermelho intermitente de amarelo,<br />no sentido oposto em transgressão.<br /><br />Ultrapasso um traço contínuo.<br />Estaciono em paragem proibida,<br />veículo abandonado fora de mão.<br /><br />Deslizo nas curvas<br />e contracurvas do teu corpo,<br />constantemente a abrir.<br /><br />A multa,<br />o reboque,<br />a estranha sensação que ando a transgredir.</strong> </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong></strong><br /></span><p><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:78%;"></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;">Texto: Victor Gil</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;">Fotografia: Pedro Gil</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></strong></p>Victor Gilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14504921410387669927noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31121667.post-31894669760771961412009-03-17T14:45:00.010+00:002009-03-17T14:57:46.698+00:00Linhas Cruzadas<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7crVX4IEUxusiOB_8Q_H594IY2eeRcCwrr46gi_-lVqBs6ZO3H0exJ0wCXgPRA4CYjaPXvgMfbcsy5GfqhB26V-wP7msKGUi_JSKGOwM1BBE3TUZ6z61nzNchD2JK5j7WvsR9DQ/s1600-h/939798.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314168008909570562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7crVX4IEUxusiOB_8Q_H594IY2eeRcCwrr46gi_-lVqBs6ZO3H0exJ0wCXgPRA4CYjaPXvgMfbcsy5GfqhB26V-wP7msKGUi_JSKGOwM1BBE3TUZ6z61nzNchD2JK5j7WvsR9DQ/s400/939798.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:180%;">T</span>enho intenção de trespassar estas linhas,<br />apesar de não saber que sonhos vou acordar.<br />Quem vai estar à espera neste trilho incerto,<br />que carris seguir nesta rota errante,<br />que atalhos vadios eu vou enfrentar.<br /><br />Acontece de novo um vulto de mulher.<br />Mas pode ser somente alucinação,<br />por vezes apenas a imagem desfocada.<br />Embora dentro deste varado coração,<br />habite um guerreiro entregue à espada.<br /><br />Talvez não queira soltar as minhas raízes,<br />movido pela confusa agitação do desejo.<br />Porque insisto em ficar aqui parado,<br />com a dor partida e o corpo amarrotado,<br />com a luxúria sensual que tem meu beijo.<br /><br />Mas desta vez vou saltar os obstáculos<br />que me embargam os movimentos,<br />que não me deixam deslocar para outro lado.<br />Acho que vou atravessar estes caminhos,<br />vou deixar para trás o meu passado.</span><br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Texto: Victor Gil<br />Fotografia: Pedro Gil</span><br /></span></span>Victor Gilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14504921410387669927noreply@blogger.com16