tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71833004079400622362023-11-16T04:16:05.297-08:00Luz no_olharLuz no_olharIaiáhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481190186893510905noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183300407940062236.post-5040755823048665872010-08-23T18:04:00.000-07:002012-09-13T10:28:15.944-07:00Para mim<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioSf5t9PhDE1MGxSCo2_RCZRmrkwbCEEcU7DgM5ErcZ2mnByyb3r4begQmyw8CWiF41v7uaWdjOYSWAJS9qMzvRaPCQqkybvPKp9PwgRjUtEw6k8UBP588qyWTpBJSF5SL1d1WcDowihQ/s1600/cores+vivas+23+ago2010+por+Val.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioSf5t9PhDE1MGxSCo2_RCZRmrkwbCEEcU7DgM5ErcZ2mnByyb3r4begQmyw8CWiF41v7uaWdjOYSWAJS9qMzvRaPCQqkybvPKp9PwgRjUtEw6k8UBP588qyWTpBJSF5SL1d1WcDowihQ/s320/cores+vivas+23+ago2010+por+Val.jpg" /></a></div>
Iaiáhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481190186893510905noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183300407940062236.post-81226900340371195622009-07-21T21:58:00.000-07:002009-07-21T22:08:21.743-07:00A Amizade é Uma Palavra Pequenina<table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com.br/lh/photo/bYgB82dukIZL9EJQ2qshig?authkey=Gv1sRgCIamjbC5rIXhPw&feat=embedwebsite"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZM4pCB7Ct-kOieolPrD_UlPEd9grRyaUrChyxnfNHllbpBzeM2KkC5m6du2_cO06EZHGkxrqxVxziEahdKpP3EUia0qSA_VId_ST0DZ6ahAoa50lFsSB8Ud1a5hCtID0s6DJa_kqSGy0/s400/m%C3%A3os2.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">De <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com.br/jandicruz/Poemas?authkey=Gv1sRgCIamjbC5rIXhPw&feat=embedwebsite">poemas</a></td></tr></table>Iaiáhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481190186893510905noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183300407940062236.post-30902984826941562662009-02-14T17:47:00.001-08:002009-02-14T17:47:13.593-08:00Canta meu sabiá!<p style="visibility:visible" height="89"><embed src="http://embed.snapvine.com/flash/starboard.swf?url=http://www.snapvine.com&urn=/api%2Fget_voice_drop%2Ff20a2be0fae511dd9ade0030485b0f88%3Fview_type%3Dvd%26inst_ts%3D090214172857%26inst_rf%3Dwww.orkut.com.br%26inst_fl%3Dstandard%26inst_sz%3Dvd&site=ms&type=mini" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" quality="high" scale="noscale" salign="l" wmode="transparent" height="55" width="350" style="width:350px;height:55px" name="starboard" align="middle"></embed><br style="font-size:0;"/><a href="http://www.snapvine.com/voicedrop?svta_drop=0&inst_ts=090214172857&inst_rf=www.orkut.com.br&inst_fl=standard&inst_sz=vd" target="_blank">Make on Snapvine</a> | <a href="http://www.snapvine.com/voicedrop/get_codes/f20a2be0fae511dd9ade0030485b0f88?site=ms&view_type=vd" target="_blank">Copy This</a></p><img style="visibility:hidden;width:0px;height:0px;" border=0 width=0 height=0 src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/IMP/CXNID=2000002.11NXC/bHQ9MTIzNDY2MjIwODA2MCZwdD*xMjM*NjYyNDE5NTg4JnA9MjY4ODEmZD12ZCZuPWJsb2dnZXImZz*xJnQ9.gif" />Iaiáhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481190186893510905noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183300407940062236.post-17562119453836494372008-12-27T16:49:00.000-08:002009-09-28T07:57:52.529-07:00CADEIRA VAZIA<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SsDO3X5JyEI/AAAAAAAAJEo/BO1aTZ0Igc4/s1600-h/cadeira+vazia+-.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SsDO3X5JyEI/AAAAAAAAJEo/BO1aTZ0Igc4/s400/cadeira+vazia+-.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386532605036972098" /></a><div>A morte nos tira do prumo,</div>nos deixa sem rumo.<br />perder não é bom,<br />nem pra aprender uma lição!<br />fica a sensação de vazio,<br />tudo parece frio.<br />mas o tempo é o senhor da dor!<br />e com o tempo vai doendo menos,<br />e menos... e menos.<br />Até que de repente "perdoamos" Deus!´<br />Então chegou o tempo de acordar!!!<br />Voltar a vida!<br /><br />Jandira Iara Cruz<br />Iaiá 27Dez08Iaiáhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481190186893510905noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183300407940062236.post-29201749713526265612008-12-27T13:11:00.001-08:002008-12-27T13:11:22.170-08:00By Mony Melo<p style="visibility:visible" height="89"><embed src="http://embed.snapvine.com/flash/starboard.swf?url=http://www.snapvine.com&urn=/api%2Fget_voice_drop%2Fad7f3aa6d37611dd915f0030485c71be%3Fview_type%3Dtp%26inst_rf%3Dwww.orkut.com.br%26inst_fl%3Dstandard%26inst_sz%3Dtp%26inst_ts%3D081227130853&site=ms&type=photo" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" quality="high" scale="noscale" salign="l" wmode="transparent" height="305" width="350" style="width:350px;height:305px" name="starboard" align="middle"></embed><br style="font-size:0;"/><a href="http://www.snapvine.com/voicedrop?svta_drop=1&inst_rf=www.orkut.com.br&inst_fl=standard&inst_sz=tp&inst_ts=081227130853" target="_blank">Make on Snapvine</a> | <a href="http://www.snapvine.com/voicedrop/get_codes/ad7f3aa6d37611dd915f0030485c71be?site=ms&view_type=tp&svta_drop=1" target="_blank">Copy This</a></p><img style="visibility:hidden;width:0px;height:0px;" border=0 width=0 height=0 src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/IMP/CXNID=2000002.11NXC/bHQ9MTIzMDQxMjE2NDUwNSZwdD*xMjMwNDEyMjYyMjM1JnA9MjY4ODEmZD1*cCZuPWJsb2dnZXImZz*xJnQ9.gif" />Iaiáhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481190186893510905noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183300407940062236.post-61970674910324030702008-12-20T22:14:00.000-08:002010-04-26T23:06:19.395-07:00OXIGÊNIO<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SU3gfkreI6I/AAAAAAAAE6E/EZck4DAMhgY/s1600-h/DESMATAMENTO.bmp"><span style="color:#33ff33;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282124771002033058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 210px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SU3gfkreI6I/AAAAAAAAE6E/EZck4DAMhgY/s320/DESMATAMENTO.bmp" border="0" /></span></a><span style="color:#33ff33;"><br /></span><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em></em></strong></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>Tudo estava perfeito, </em></strong></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>como Deus criou,</em></strong></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>mas insatisfeitos resolvemos remodelar e,</em></strong></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>cortamos árvores,</em></strong></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>precisávamos de casa.</em></strong></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>cortamos árvores,</em></strong></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>precisávamos comer carne.</em></strong></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>cortamos árvores,</em></strong></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>precisávamos de móveis.</em></strong></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>cortamos árvores, </em></strong></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>precisávamos de estradas e,</em></strong></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>cortamos árvores...</em></strong></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>cortamos árvores...</em></strong></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>cortamos árvores... </em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><strong><em><span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"></span></em></strong></div><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em></em></strong></span><br /><span style="color:#33ff33;"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>AGORA... PRECISAMOS DE AR!</em></strong></span><br /></span><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;color:#33ff33;">Jandira Iara Cruz</span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="font-family:courier new;color:#33ff33;">Iaiá 20DEZ08</span></div></span>Iaiáhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481190186893510905noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183300407940062236.post-86407110012766432702008-12-02T14:55:00.000-08:002010-04-26T23:07:02.719-07:00ARTESÃO<div align="center"></div><div align="left"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/STXUo5jk2uI/AAAAAAAAEzg/0s897JVBvXA/s1600-h/bl-pl-fotos-a-marcha-da-insensatez-amazonia-desmatamento-01.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275356337644296930" style="WIDTH: 210px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/STXUo5jk2uI/AAAAAAAAEzg/0s897JVBvXA/s320/bl-pl-fotos-a-marcha-da-insensatez-amazonia-desmatamento-01.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>Lá vai ele mata adentro,</em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>CAMINHANDO. </em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>Com seu machado afiado.</em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>MALVADO! </em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>Corta a árvore,</em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>Sem piedade.</em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>MALDADE! </em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>E ela chora!</em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>IMPLORA? </em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>E vai ao chão! </em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>PERDÃO! </em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>Arrasta o tronco, </em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>Mata a fora. </em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>CLARÃO! </em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>De volta à casa.</em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>FORMÃO! </em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>Com a mão de artista, </em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>Vai tirando lascas;</em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>LASCANDO! </em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>E o tronco chora, </em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>IMPLORA! </em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>Vai tirando lascas, </em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>LASCANDO! </em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>E vai surgindo a forma. </em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>FORMANDO. </em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>Formou-se a cruz, </em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>ONDE MORREU JESUS! </em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>E chora a madeira, </em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>E chorou JESUS! </em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><strong><em><span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:130%;"></span></em></strong> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"><strong><em><span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:130%;"></span></em></strong></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em></em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em></em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong><em></em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"><strong><em>Jandira Iara Cruz </em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"><strong><em>IAIÁ </em></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"><strong><em>2dezembro2008</em></strong></span></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><p align="left"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/STXUpNm-vXI/AAAAAAAAEzo/Dp3x09QgaAo/s1600-h/cruz+zgauchosg.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275356343027285362" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/STXUpNm-vXI/AAAAAAAAEzo/Dp3x09QgaAo/s320/cruz+zgauchosg.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong><strong><strong></p></strong></strong></strong>Iaiáhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481190186893510905noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183300407940062236.post-82389477251238700282008-10-25T13:48:00.000-07:002012-09-13T10:29:11.737-07:00Por trás do muro<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SQOJMTLKqhI/AAAAAAAAEew/nYPTUhYoJ-4/s1600-h/rosa+atr%C3%A1s+do+muro.bmp"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261199634097416722" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SQOJMTLKqhI/AAAAAAAAEew/nYPTUhYoJ-4/s320/rosa+atr%C3%A1s+do+muro.bmp" style="height: 240px; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
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<em><strong><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: times new roman; font-size: 130%;">Por Medo,<br />Estamos nos guardando.<br />Primeiro o muro em volta das casas,<br />Ninguém verá mais a beleza das minhas flores!<br />Mas da janela ainda podemos ver o movimento lá fora.<br />Depois vem o trinco no portão,<br />Um cachorro maior...<br />O muro baixo, não nos guarda mais.<br />Sobe-se o muro,<br />Põe-se arame, cacos de vidros,<br />O medo aumentou!<br />Na rua,<br />Desconfia-se de tudo e de todos<br />Qualquer movimento é suspeito<br />Nos agarramos aos filhos e às bolsas!<br />Qualquer barulho surdo,<br />Já nos pomos a correr!<br /><br />Não quero mais ir ao cinema!<br />Não quero mais ir ao barzinho!<br />Passear na pracinha... nem pensar!<br /><br />Os filhos estão presos dentro de casa,<br />Não vão à escola,<br />Não saem com os amigos!<br />"virtualizaram-se"!!!<br /><br />E da janela, não vejo mais o movimento lá fora.<br /><br />Por medo de morrer lá fora,<br />Prendemos-nos dentro de casa.<br />E morremos aqui dentro,<br />Um pouco a cada dia!</span></strong></em></div>
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<strong><em><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 130%;">Jandira Iara Cruz</span></em></strong></div>
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<strong><em><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 130%;">"Iaiá" 25out08</span></em></strong><span style="color: white; font-family: courier new; font-size: 130%;"><em> </em></span></div>
Iaiáhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481190186893510905noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183300407940062236.post-18374885786814605892008-09-09T13:17:00.000-07:002008-10-26T17:17:57.257-07:00TRABALHO INFANTIL<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCIJxETT1LpIhMLkyKlpPUpASPwuRBE_0gXzuRzYE0r1Z4qAs2tZj6noZB4u_oLpIMTFZ-KBeSv-sboZUnN8y4mZdIRuPavOp3Z5kaCxF7EKlLE2kG2dsQ0v3Rp6LtlF1AvohcbgMOGCM/s1600-h/trabalho+infantil.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244156333601080594" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCIJxETT1LpIhMLkyKlpPUpASPwuRBE_0gXzuRzYE0r1Z4qAs2tZj6noZB4u_oLpIMTFZ-KBeSv-sboZUnN8y4mZdIRuPavOp3Z5kaCxF7EKlLE2kG2dsQ0v3Rp6LtlF1AvohcbgMOGCM/s320/trabalho+infantil.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglrrRq4rd-QO5tsGBABYuBQRsMjGfvkyFF5m6AOMVF6mSEF8HHyEdYQODpD8GftX2UCd2lN7pIK1e-QoWV8-9Z7Pfw_StRTxb4rdtlp8XaCSTxUup3snusG_IM2YUoU-Eo7zkUzOEDWrA/s1600-h/trabalho+infantil.jpg"></a></div><div><span style="color:#cccccc;"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><em><strong>Eu não tive estudo.<br />Eu não tive sonhos.<br />Eu não tive pai!.<br />Fui órfão menino!<br />E pequenininho,<br />Eu já trabalhava,<br />Eu quebrava pedras, </strong></em></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#cccccc;"><em><strong>Eu colhia cana<br />E ralava os dedos!<br />Não brinquei de bola! </strong></em></span></div><div><span style="color:#cccccc;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><em><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><strong>Eu fui bóia fria!<br />Eu não fui à escola!<br />Tinha que colher o pão,<br />Para meus irmãos.<br />Dia de Domingo,<br />Trabalhava não!<br />Eu ia pra escola,<br />Brincar de estudar.<br />Pegava os livrinhos,<br />Olhava as figuras<br />Me punha a imaginar<br />As tantas histórias,<br />Daqueles desenhos...<br />Trocava de banco,<br />Fingia ser outros.<br />Ora estudante,<br />Ora professor.<br />Mas o tempo não parava!<br />Só aos Domingos ele corria!<br />Nos dias de lida,<br />Ele se arrastava,<br />Ele não passava.<br />E eu quebrava pedras,<br />E ralava os dedos!<br />Mas doía menos,<br />Se eu ocupasse a mente<br />com meus dias de DOMINGO!</strong></span><br /></em></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><em>JANDIRA IARA CRUZ</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><em>"IAIÁ" </em></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><em>8SET2008 </em></span></span></div>Iaiáhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481190186893510905noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183300407940062236.post-13149965515691463992008-08-27T12:48:00.000-07:002008-08-27T13:30:11.772-07:00Para meus filhos<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SLWyTXKks0I/AAAAAAAADcM/OF_zvlFsjWw/s1600-h/nos+bra%C3%A7os.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239289787221062466" style="CURSOR: hand" height="221" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SLWyTXKks0I/AAAAAAAADcM/OF_zvlFsjWw/s320/nos+bra%C3%A7os.jpg" width="215" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#000099;"><strong><em><span style="color:#9999ff;">Anjos Meninos Anjos</span><br /><br /></em></strong></span><span style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#33ccff;"><strong><em>Dirijo-me ao quarto<br />Pé ante pé<br />Pra não fazer barulho.<br />Debruço-me sobre o berço,<br />Aqui estão eles<br />Meus ANJOS meninos!<br />Vestidos de inocência,<br />Têm cheiro de esperança!<br />Ajeito as cobertas,<br />Recolho os ursinhos,<br />Beijo-lhes a face,<br />E numa prece<br />Entrego-os a Deus.<br />Acendo o abajur e saio.<br />E passam-se os anos...<br />Dirijo-me ao quarto,<br />Não preciso mais andar descalça...<br />Eles ainda estão aqui!<br />Já não cabem mais em berços,<br />Mas cabem no meu abraço!<br />Têm cheiro de homens!<br />Mas o mundo ainda não os levou daqui!<br />Na estante na parede,<br />Seus heróis, seus sonhos de meninos.<br />Passo a mão em seus cabelos,<br />Beijo-lhes a face,<br />Ajeito as cobertas,<br />Faço uma prece,<br />ENTREGO-OS A DEUS!<br />Meus MENINOS anjos...<br />Apago a luz e saio.<br /></em></strong></span><br /></span></span><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SLW1eZdg64I/AAAAAAAADck/xpUd9Bdvm50/s1600-h/p%C3%A9s2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239293275350821762" style="CURSOR: hand" height="215" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SLW1eZdg64I/AAAAAAAADck/xpUd9Bdvm50/s320/p%C3%A9s2.jpg" width="216" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><em>Jandira Iara Cruz</em></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><em>"Iaiá"</em></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><em>27agosto2008</em></span>Iaiáhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481190186893510905noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183300407940062236.post-9583884600577948242008-08-26T19:50:00.001-07:002008-08-27T13:39:41.791-07:00LIXÃO DA EXISTÊNCIA<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SLW58kgaXdI/AAAAAAAADcs/yUVXw1nEjLs/s1600-h/lixo.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239298191758351826" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SLW58kgaXdI/AAAAAAAADcs/yUVXw1nEjLs/s320/lixo.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>LIXÃO DA EXISTÊNCIA<br />No outro dia passei por um lixão e</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>Surpreendi-me com o que vi jogado fora.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>Eu vi corações em pedaços,</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>Mobílias quebradas, </em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>Álbuns de casamento. </em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>Fotos rasgadas... pedaços de sorrisos; </em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>Tinha até uma boneca com etiqueta e tudo; </em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>Seu nome era alegria.</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>Eu vi também...</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>Folhas ao vento, com poesias de amor; </em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>Cartões postais de lugares dantes navegados!</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>Fiquei ali parada, pensando... pensando...</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>E de repente me vi olhando para o ALTO,</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>À procura de uma resposta,</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>E uma gota d'água caiu sobre meus olhos. </em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>Era uma lágrima!!!</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>Deus estava chorando,</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#33ff33;"><strong><em>Ao ver o que nós fizemos com o que ELE plantou em nós.<br /></em></strong></span><br /><strong><em><span style="font-family:courier new;color:#33ff33;">Jandira Iara Cruz</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-family:courier new;color:#33ff33;">"Iaiá"</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-family:courier new;color:#33ff33;">maio 2007<br /><br /></span></em></strong><br /><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com.br/jandicruz/Poemas/photo?authkey=P8IVY5YDUwY#5239021208674746578"></a>Iaiáhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481190186893510905noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183300407940062236.post-6689007524575331742008-08-16T17:28:00.001-07:002009-06-21T13:13:43.567-07:00Dorme anjo...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmCFG2TdGGM6NhxV5rcpqVtoIXUrtNpnmEP50oQulspKwJgFtBD0bGIfesuYTj9w5O0BZmBTsW3OBuFTYUO5mphOHfwViQM0yW1giRM0wyIzs5J5vvWW3mQ734941JF5kbYffUklonPxw/s1600-h/DorivalCaymmi.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235277081772653218" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmCFG2TdGGM6NhxV5rcpqVtoIXUrtNpnmEP50oQulspKwJgFtBD0bGIfesuYTj9w5O0BZmBTsW3OBuFTYUO5mphOHfwViQM0yW1giRM0wyIzs5J5vvWW3mQ734941JF5kbYffUklonPxw/s320/DorivalCaymmi.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><em><span style="color:#ffcc00;">36 anos após a partida do meu pai (14/8/1972), parte mais um pai muito amado por seus filhos e fãs. Um grande baiano Dorival Caymmi! </span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#ffcc00;">Hoje, com certeza tem festa no céu!</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#ffcc00;">Dorme anjo, PAPAI vai lhe ninar!</span></em>Iaiáhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481190186893510905noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183300407940062236.post-25379432595579433452008-08-09T21:05:00.000-07:002008-08-09T21:07:36.796-07:00PAI<a href="http://picasaweb.google.com.br/jandicruz/Pai/photo?authkey=wrFwfTxby4g#5232735070101062674"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/jandicruz/SJ5o0nEaRBI/AAAAAAAADTY/j7EC3pNk_A0/s400/pai1.jpg" /></a><br /><br />Pequena homenagem para um grande homem, meu pai!Iaiáhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481190186893510905noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183300407940062236.post-16644430846988353982008-08-01T13:13:00.001-07:002008-08-01T13:18:49.826-07:00EU ESPALHO ALEGRIA<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SJNuejnwdoI/AAAAAAAADQk/SqqeePnwGwQ/s1600-h/palha%C3%A7os.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229645063544403586" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SJNuejnwdoI/AAAAAAAADQk/SqqeePnwGwQ/s320/palha%C3%A7os.gif" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><em>Ser criança é muito bom!!! Vale lembrar da infância...<br />Do tempo que corria na rua, que brincava de pique esconde...<br />Fazia minhas "estripulias" e saia correndo das vizinhas...rsrs<br />Ah!!!... Se pudesse pararia o tempo, tentaria retornar nessa fase linda<br />Que nem sabia valorizar... Tudo que fiz foi na inocência... de um olhar surpreso...<br />de um coração vibrante... de uma alegria contagiante!<br /><br />Quando as luzes eram coloridas... minha casa era cheia de vida...<br />Tudo era motivo pra FESTA!!...<br />Não tenho arrependimentos... Pulava, caia, saltava, voava algumas vezes,<br />até sem asas, e me "estribuchava", mas estava sempre de pé..rsrs<br /><br />Os sonhos de criança, alguns realizei, outros, me acompanham,<br />pois a criança que fui, ainda mora dentro de mim.<br />E continuo sorrindo... Espalhando alegria!!!hehe<br />Pelos caminhos onde passo... A tristeza eu desfaço...<br />Vem sorrir comigo!!!... E entre nesse compasso!<br /></em></strong><br /></span></span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffcccc;">Escrito por minha amiga "criança",<br />Nilcéa Almeida</span>Iaiáhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481190186893510905noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183300407940062236.post-64392428380249008182008-07-31T21:45:00.001-07:002008-08-27T20:05:40.180-07:00A PONTE<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SLYUvkuHX_I/AAAAAAAADdk/0OZsVUpHzTw/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239398024035655666" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SLYUvkuHX_I/AAAAAAAADdk/0OZsVUpHzTw/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><strong><em><span style="color:#cc6600;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Quantos por aqui já passaram?</span></span></em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><strong><em><span style="color:#cc6600;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Quantos pararam, se debruçaram?</span></span></em></strong></span><br /><strong><em><span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:130%;color:#cc6600;">E quem </span></em></strong><span style="font-family:courier new;"><strong><em><span style="color:#cc6600;"><span style="font-size:130%;">sabe até moedas jogaram,</span></span></em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><strong><em><span style="color:#cc6600;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Em troca de um sonho...um desejo?</span></span></em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><strong><em><span style="color:#cc6600;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Quantos deixaram as lágrimas caírem por sobre as águas?</span></span></em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><strong><em><span style="color:#cc6600;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Pelo desgaste do caminho,</span></span></em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><strong><em><span style="color:#cc6600;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Muitos já deixaram suas pegadas,</span></span></em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><strong><em><span style="color:#cc6600;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Suas lágrimas...seus desejos...e esperanças.</span></span></em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><strong><em><span style="color:#cc6600;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Mas quantos pararam e olharam para o céu?</span></span></em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><strong><em><span style="color:#cc6600;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Lá estava a solução de tudo!</span></span></em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><strong><em><span style="color:#cc6600;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Bastaria um pouquinho de fé, </span></span></em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><strong><em><span style="color:#cc6600;"><span style="font-size:130%;">E sentiriam a presença de Deus junto deles.</span></span></em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><strong><em><span style="color:#cc6600;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span>Jandira Iara Cruz<br /></span>"Iaiá"<br /><br /></span></em></strong></span><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com.br/jandicruz/Poemas/photo?authkey=P8IVY5YDUwY#5137690028713323970"></a>Iaiáhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481190186893510905noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183300407940062236.post-2812617125362340162008-07-31T21:42:00.001-07:002012-09-13T10:32:47.610-07:00Criança esquecida dentro do carro<a href="http://picasaweb.google.com.br/jandicruz/Poemas/photo?authkey=P8IVY5YDUwY#5155185921366198210"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/jandicruz/R4rmSDogh8I/AAAAAAAACUI/VrG-CbJA1VQ/s800/ANJO%20pegadas.JPG" /></a>Iaiáhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481190186893510905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183300407940062236.post-17344013328786538702008-07-31T21:38:00.000-07:002008-09-11T22:30:28.442-07:00MENINOS NA RUA<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5GLpWZT1Oo-fssd26dAlVohBHH5sCcyO9YnmbZAbGV4uNyxRTvjrXRK0Cnl3xxcOqDipKvUtvO69YohVoGoOwLe4WB9akWI0CDcA5uGvDW94QKN8rVWkGgqgWlnwq-zLQTxzVGGNzBAQ/s1600-h/Meninos.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245002124277322306" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5GLpWZT1Oo-fssd26dAlVohBHH5sCcyO9YnmbZAbGV4uNyxRTvjrXRK0Cnl3xxcOqDipKvUtvO69YohVoGoOwLe4WB9akWI0CDcA5uGvDW94QKN8rVWkGgqgWlnwq-zLQTxzVGGNzBAQ/s320/Meninos.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheg4GdHVLTlIgSBxohmgIKnZjG8-mZO2dEAyIioZj2q6iKEULschF22HKvbtA1-a2gLn18Eb4RAjjT4j5pz1R0woeD4N9v9CiDy0i-3AkXBBde3eTqLDeUCCL_47sk40oSBhfTrG20h8Q/s1600-h/Meninos.JPG"></a><div><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"><strong>Há quem os chame de meninos de rua.<br />Meninos que roubam,<br />Que roubam nosso olhar,<br />Mas mesmo assim, não os vemos!<br />Meninos que cheiram cola,<br />Em busca do cheiro da flor!<br />Meninos que "dormem" amontoados,<br />Que somam a dor,<br />Desamor...<br />Meninos que "sonham" com imagens da TV,<br />Com abraços, carinhos.<br />Com leite, com peito.<br />Meninos que sonham...<br />Meninos na rua,<br />Da verdade nua,<br />Da maldade crua!</strong></span></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-family:courier new;color:#666666;">Jandira Iara Cruz</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:courier new;color:#666666;">"Iaiá"</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:courier new;color:#666666;">26outubro2007</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></strong> </div></div>Iaiáhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481190186893510905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183300407940062236.post-10500466088900096852008-07-31T21:36:00.001-07:002008-07-31T21:36:53.661-07:00CATADOR DE LIXO<a href="http://picasaweb.google.com.br/jandicruz/Poemas/photo?authkey=P8IVY5YDUwY#5195536749621082450"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/jandicruz/SBpBJYqm-VI/AAAAAAAAC5s/6m6II2zm_cA/s800/catador%20de%20lixo.jpg" /></a>Iaiáhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481190186893510905noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183300407940062236.post-48803040420276723402008-07-31T21:32:00.001-07:002008-07-31T21:32:46.149-07:00BANCO DE PRAÇA<a href="http://picasaweb.google.com.br/jandicruz/Poemas/photo?authkey=P8IVY5YDUwY#5151822498116961842"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/jandicruz/R37zRDoghjI/AAAAAAAACNM/NGS9ebgq4Rk/s800/Banco%20de%20Pra%C3%A7a.JPG" /></a>Iaiáhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481190186893510905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183300407940062236.post-14724432596206285972008-07-31T21:29:00.000-07:002008-07-31T21:34:59.843-07:00VAGANDO<a href="http://picasaweb.google.com.br/jandicruz/Poemas/photo?authkey=P8IVY5YDUwY#5151822506706896450"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/jandicruz/R37zRjoghkI/AAAAAAAACNU/NpMhbotCYXM/s800/Vagando.JPG" /></a>Iaiáhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481190186893510905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183300407940062236.post-62618158745164666412008-07-21T12:31:00.000-07:002008-07-21T14:48:58.710-07:00MAS MEU CORAÇÃO PAROU!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLQKTL81o7zVL7GemDlbvvSd1Oh0zuMfBo3xJZdRZpvn00YrFcs3mz2LI0r4cL_ZjFOyjNyIMTURAqQ4jzAVs9e8tB_frW6WXAcT2wuxL2SNi33gcEIe2VXW3blX2nujSCY6o6yC1qcIE/s1600-h/P7190025.cJPG.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225552769829701202" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 198px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 201px" height="225" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLQKTL81o7zVL7GemDlbvvSd1Oh0zuMfBo3xJZdRZpvn00YrFcs3mz2LI0r4cL_ZjFOyjNyIMTURAqQ4jzAVs9e8tB_frW6WXAcT2wuxL2SNi33gcEIe2VXW3blX2nujSCY6o6yC1qcIE/s320/P7190025.cJPG.JPG" width="207" border="0" /></a><br /><em><em><em><em><em><em><em><em><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></em></em></em></em></em></em></em></em><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"><em><strong>CA, </strong></em></span><br /><p align="left"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"><em><strong></strong></em></span></p><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"><em><strong>Mandei varrer a calçada de Copacabana, </strong></em></span><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SIT43XEXSyI/AAAAAAAADNM/TxrLkjDC5es/s1600-h/copacabana.jpg"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"><em><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225575097625430818" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SIT43XEXSyI/AAAAAAAADNM/TxrLkjDC5es/s320/copacabana.jpg" border="0" /></strong></em></span></a><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"><em><strong>Mas ela não pode sentir seu caminhar! </strong></em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"><em><strong></strong></em></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"><em><strong>Mandei que todas as flores do Jardim Botânico se abrissem,<br /></strong></em></span><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SIT5EZ09rMI/AAAAAAAADNU/abHlvzJ7bWs/s1600-h/jardim+botanico.jpg"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"><em><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225575321704443074" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SIT5EZ09rMI/AAAAAAAADNU/abHlvzJ7bWs/s320/jardim+botanico.jpg" border="0" /></strong></em></span></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"><em><strong><br /></strong></em></span><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"><em><strong>Mas você não pode sentir o perfume! </strong></em></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"><em><strong></strong></em></span></div><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"><em><strong>Pedi ao mar que batesse de mansinho, </strong></em></span></div><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SIT5yKOgWXI/AAAAAAAADNc/dGPf3JuBKY0/s1600-h/mar.jpg"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"><em><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225576107790588274" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SIT5yKOgWXI/AAAAAAAADNc/dGPf3JuBKY0/s320/mar.jpg" border="0" /></strong></em></span></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"><em><strong><br />Mas ele não pode te saudar! </strong></em></span></div><div><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"><em><strong>Deixei o Cristo Redentor de braços abertos, </strong></em></span></div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SIT5yd9Kr8I/AAAAAAAADNk/k_JBGt3h1rA/s1600-h/cristo+redentor.jpg"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"><em><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225576113086574530" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SIT5yd9Kr8I/AAAAAAAADNk/k_JBGt3h1rA/s320/cristo+redentor.jpg" border="0" /></strong></em></span></a></div><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"><em><strong>Mas Ele não pode sentir seu abraço! </strong></em></span></div><div><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"><em><strong>Tirei o açúcar do Pão de Açúcar, </strong></em></span></div><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SIT5yYFpgMI/AAAAAAAADNs/MuClV6o49p0/s1600-h/p%C3%A3ode+a%C3%A7ucar.jpg"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"><em><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225576111511535810" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SIT5yYFpgMI/AAAAAAAADNs/MuClV6o49p0/s320/p%C3%A3ode+a%C3%A7ucar.jpg" border="0" /></strong></em></span></a></div><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"><em><strong>Mas ele não pode sentir sua doçura!<br /><br />Parei a Sapucaí, mandei fazer um carnaval pra você, </strong></em></span></div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SIT5yiybr2I/AAAAAAAADN8/VVcjIomZYS8/s1600-h/sapuca%C3%AD.jpg"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"><em><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225576114383728482" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SIT5yiybr2I/AAAAAAAADN8/VVcjIomZYS8/s320/sapuca%C3%AD.jpg" border="0" /></strong></em></span></a></div><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"><em><strong>Todas as escolas de samba trouxeram um carro pra homenagear você,<br />Mas você não pode desfilar!<br /><br />O Maracanã parou pra escutar seu grito de Gooool, </strong></em></span></div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SIT5ysYlACI/AAAAAAAADN0/x5TmdpygqzM/s1600-h/maracana.jpg"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"><em><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225576116959641634" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SIT5ysYlACI/AAAAAAAADN0/x5TmdpygqzM/s320/maracana.jpg" border="0" /></strong></em></span></a></div><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"><em><strong>Mas seu grito ficou na garganta!<br /><br />Eu só não consegui parar o tempo, </strong></em></span></div><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"><em><strong>pra que você tivesse tempo, </strong></em></span></div><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"><em><strong>de desfrutar as belezas do meu Rio de Janeiro!<br /><br />Mas eu consegui fazer parar meu coração por um segundo,<br />E PUDE SENTIR SEU CORAÇÃO BATENDO JUNTO AO MEU!!!<br /></strong></em></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEispqvYDFP4r5OyMGwIy3e8tBNCVr5XP3njGq6cpPLXqFbaujHK7mP2X8flRwaZImdHi5c20xXjokfPbgVrGgZtp1AdVgsZI9iqj0R-NnUAfO0DaVYEh8tIfEAeG70cQxV28E-zGecamGw/s1600-h/Ca+e+Eu.jpg"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;"><em><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225578417184317922" style="CURSOR: hand" height="245" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEispqvYDFP4r5OyMGwIy3e8tBNCVr5XP3njGq6cpPLXqFbaujHK7mP2X8flRwaZImdHi5c20xXjokfPbgVrGgZtp1AdVgsZI9iqj0R-NnUAfO0DaVYEh8tIfEAeG70cQxV28E-zGecamGw/s320/Ca+e+Eu.jpg" width="236" border="0" /></strong></em></span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br />CA, minha Lindinha...te amo!<br />Jandira Iara Cruz (Iaiá)<br />19julho2008</span></div></div>Iaiáhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481190186893510905noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183300407940062236.post-39389235380530024132008-06-26T10:13:00.000-07:002008-07-21T13:56:04.073-07:00"Ex"-combatente<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SIT3uL1cvCI/AAAAAAAADM8/HoIykXxFGfc/s1600-h/thumbnailCAMA3D4A.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225573840479632418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SIT3uL1cvCI/AAAAAAAADM8/HoIykXxFGfc/s320/thumbnailCAMA3D4A.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><p align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QwRWKYw-twA/SITyKzS1obI/AAAAAAAADM0/C5iGyf99Dds/s1600-h/thumbnailCADIWLIM.jpg"></a></p><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">Trago o peito cheio de medalhas;</span></strong></em><br /><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">E cada uma delas me dilacera esse mesmo peito,</span></strong></em><br /><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">Me lembra as vidas que tirei,</span></strong></em><br /><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">Os jovens que não permiti que voltassem para seus pais.</span></strong></em><br /><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">Essas medalhas me espetam o peito, como se fossem punhais!</span></strong></em><br /><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">Sim, sou ex-combatente!</span></strong></em><br /><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">Esse é o título que ganhei por ter conseguido voltar pra casa!!!</span></strong></em><br /><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">Mas, que "ex"-combatente que nada!</span></strong></em><br /><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">Combato até hoje!</span></strong></em><br /><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">Mas agora a guerra é minha,</span></strong></em><br /><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">Minha guerra interior.</span></strong></em><br /><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">Luto pra esquecer o olhar de um menino, cuja vida tirei.</span></strong></em><br /><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">E era tão menino ainda...</span></strong></em><br /><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">Luto pra não pensar na dor,</span></strong></em><br /><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">Na dor dos pais que deixei “órfãos”.</span></strong></em><br /><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">Luto pra tentar ouvir os pássaros, </span></strong></em><br /><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">Não o som das bombas explodindo!!!</span></strong></em><br /><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">LUTO PRA ME LEMBRAR COMO É A LUZ DO SOL!</span></strong></em><br /><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">"Ex"-combatente sim, porque sobrevivi!</span></strong></em><br /><em><strong><span style="color:#000000;">Mas... não vivo mais!!!</span></strong></em><br /><br /><em><strong><span style="color:#990000;"></span></strong></em><br /><em><strong><span style="color:#990000;">Jandira Iara Cruz </span></strong></em><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#990000;">Iaiá</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#990000;">15junho2008</span></em></strong>Iaiáhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481190186893510905noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7183300407940062236.post-45417865550131079692008-05-30T22:34:00.000-07:002008-05-30T22:40:24.085-07:00Coração de pedra<span style="font-size:130%;color:#339999;"><em>Mãe dentro de seu peito</em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#339999;"><em>Eu sei que existe um coração</em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#339999;"><em>Que é doce e puro, embora não demonstre</em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#339999;"><em>Que se emociona tanto quanto qualquer outro,</em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#339999;"><em>Apesar de quase nunca chorar de emoção,</em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#339999;"><em>Que fica abalado, magoado e sentido</em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#339999;"><em>Apesar de não demonstrar</em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#339999;"><em>Se esse coração for de pedra</em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#339999;"><em>É como aquelas pedras de areia,</em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#339999;"><em>Que facilmente se desmancham</em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#339999;"><em>Mas não gosta muito de carinho</em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#339999;"><em>Ou deve ser de uma pedra preciosa</em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#339999;"><em>Bonita e rara como um diamante</em></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#9999ff;"><em><strong>Rodrigo Cruz Bittencourt (meu filho)</strong></em></span>Iaiáhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481190186893510905noreply@blogger.com1