tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41551480336070300522024-11-08T12:23:28.187-03:00...enquanto a morte clama e ergue sobre mim procuro os anjos que celebraram a minha vida.Hilda Helena Raymundo Diashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12007127027796493085noreply@blogger.comBlogger471125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4155148033607030052.post-11167183704882970322017-02-24T01:30:00.002-03:002017-02-24T01:53:07.011-03:00<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/AVvXsEifLKvbHg4Eft7GNhSKa5t47Wq2e6Z55Ax7n4cRurAl5tn8UHqy2HVU-gED9HM2BsMoEuudg1xMmEPkt1wZMAApk72oMDCh8GgJbwCr-MCJoA3EbPTTAxPmPW4tVVvO1FPTVf622g1XGCc/s1600/d915726246d629a10ebb604207b616e0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifLKvbHg4Eft7GNhSKa5t47Wq2e6Z55Ax7n4cRurAl5tn8UHqy2HVU-gED9HM2BsMoEuudg1xMmEPkt1wZMAApk72oMDCh8GgJbwCr-MCJoA3EbPTTAxPmPW4tVVvO1FPTVf622g1XGCc/s320/d915726246d629a10ebb604207b616e0.jpg" width="230" /></a></div> ambiência<br /> <br /> nesta terra marcada<br /> um remanescente único<br /> se cresce<br /> <br /> a raiz absorvida de<br /> silêncio<br /> nasce imobilizada<br /> do som antes da vida<br /> além da voz<br /> e vida<br /> <br /> no limite<br /> sem movimento<br /> o secreto<br /> o sexo<br /> o corpo &nbsp;sem religião<br /> ajustado pro fim<br /> <br /> sem voz<br /> a omissão.<br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /></div> Hilda Helena Raymundo Diashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12007127027796493085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4155148033607030052.post-82267519403115513792017-02-22T00:37:00.001-03:002017-02-22T00:37:59.891-03:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> <br /> <br /> só porque erro<br /> <br /> só por isso...<br /> acho &nbsp;o que não busco<br /> faço o labirinto<br /> <br /> a procura<br /> o desconhecido<br /> o porquê &nbsp;da busca<br /> <br /> só por isso...<br /> só &nbsp;porque erro<br /> me alicerço<br /> <br /> o erro<br /> a liberdade.<br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_rhoICuNzY0Z84Y-qmMRJM9gpcLFUc5xELXKMcUIN1MSES1QZ9JpJHY-clINYhxnevFrgLQicTiQPIYAmCTX5ois2J9_wj4jg1RMi4DiQg-YOkqrvXrYA469eYVGbil5bxZ3AK4RTokQ/s1600/f3a4701e15f2c738779b89b795d650dc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_rhoICuNzY0Z84Y-qmMRJM9gpcLFUc5xELXKMcUIN1MSES1QZ9JpJHY-clINYhxnevFrgLQicTiQPIYAmCTX5ois2J9_wj4jg1RMi4DiQg-YOkqrvXrYA469eYVGbil5bxZ3AK4RTokQ/s320/f3a4701e15f2c738779b89b795d650dc.jpg" width="188" /></a></div> <br /></div> Hilda Helena Raymundo Diashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12007127027796493085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4155148033607030052.post-39731524654276010032017-02-21T19:45:00.000-03:002017-02-21T19:46:04.380-03:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> esquerda<br /> <br /> todo homem<br /> sabe dos anjos que<br /> vivem em si<br /> <br /> um<br /> bárbaro se negando<br /> a ser<br /> o outro em louvor<br /> sustentado.<br /> <br /> não se admiram<br /> são &nbsp;mistério dividido<br /> no contra são inteiros.<br /> <br /> na dualidade de ser<br /> fundamentam vida e morte<br /> no &nbsp;precipício da mesma<br /> existência .<br /> Hilda Helena<br /> <br /> Arte William Blake<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfErQ7wIZs9INV5veo9PpPknrXFGvNDMeUKWu_p36w5QyhtMhXNWj4f3y_r0CBbO_DSpO-SW2QsR7XXVfpVxlwaxp5SXNtIfFkw7bo8e8L805GhvMVMd9OcZAAD9qP_MpV4DOyhY3AuqA/s1600/4481333246_500fae644e_m.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfErQ7wIZs9INV5veo9PpPknrXFGvNDMeUKWu_p36w5QyhtMhXNWj4f3y_r0CBbO_DSpO-SW2QsR7XXVfpVxlwaxp5SXNtIfFkw7bo8e8L805GhvMVMd9OcZAAD9qP_MpV4DOyhY3AuqA/s1600/4481333246_500fae644e_m.jpg" /></a></div> </div> Hilda Helena Raymundo Diashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12007127027796493085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4155148033607030052.post-24107478647768714972017-02-20T15:36:00.001-03:002017-02-20T15:36:27.163-03:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> lutar contra ligas<br /> que vivo<br /> contra limites e o que<br /> não é narciso em<br /> mim<br /> <br /> o &nbsp;perigo real<br /> a batalha vivida<br /> alicerça um terreno<br /> sem mata<br /> sem terra.<br /> <br /> Hilda Helena<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaA1uND39KJr_GWNOpyAIOiJTdIDUpTST075KENdUeWZNIFw6AXKYBLjZdhvCgLHKfE4dWww4Wk5r-FpppOHk_NOGL9sD4pjVhbOA2IxUr3OWBqQsoOUnBkY5cqllZKVkHuECLbmZE3lY/s1600/8dcd136e5a9fec025adbc5a182d9a78b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaA1uND39KJr_GWNOpyAIOiJTdIDUpTST075KENdUeWZNIFw6AXKYBLjZdhvCgLHKfE4dWww4Wk5r-FpppOHk_NOGL9sD4pjVhbOA2IxUr3OWBqQsoOUnBkY5cqllZKVkHuECLbmZE3lY/s1600/8dcd136e5a9fec025adbc5a182d9a78b.jpg" /></a></div> </div> Hilda Helena Raymundo Diashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12007127027796493085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4155148033607030052.post-52388592159460899262017-02-19T23:35:00.003-03:002017-02-19T23:35:46.150-03:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <br /></div> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <br /></div> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <br /></div> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3e_iUv-3Pm7HfpR1siyLOwg1LBeexXmHYq75DbX8VeHZE4_thEn2iGdRtVcD4yYDdIIKuAlsKHd2lzokDnGdldGpX8yfx3jq-wRGxRneN5Bz3dyoiMGgmgqyyZMenSDtRwwBkx9UpEqw/s1600/1f86484f2881ae999a53d9d357eaaaee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3e_iUv-3Pm7HfpR1siyLOwg1LBeexXmHYq75DbX8VeHZE4_thEn2iGdRtVcD4yYDdIIKuAlsKHd2lzokDnGdldGpX8yfx3jq-wRGxRneN5Bz3dyoiMGgmgqyyZMenSDtRwwBkx9UpEqw/s320/1f86484f2881ae999a53d9d357eaaaee.jpg" width="253" /></a></div> <br /> perdidos no<br /> momento<br /> temos asas livres<br /> <br /> na brisa leve<br /> somos um do<br /> outro<br /> <br /> nas palavras raras<br /> um querer claro<br /> <br /> a vida breve<br /> bate asas e<br /> depois nada.<br /> <br /> Hilda Helena</div> Hilda Helena Raymundo Diashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12007127027796493085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4155148033607030052.post-29820412931838520002017-02-18T23:46:00.000-03:002017-02-18T23:46:01.067-03:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> limite<br /> <br /> morro sempre<br /> mato-me<br /> invento raízes<br /> libertas da carne<br /> <br /> ressuscito argila<br /> de olhos úmidos<br /> em órbitas vazias<br /> <br /> cansa ser<br /> morte<br /> viver a vida<br /> no breu<br /> <br /> na solidão do outro<br /> o encontro da &nbsp;terra<br /> dada por gentileza<br /> <br /> mortos em mim<br /> ressuscitam<br /> no medo<br /> guiados pela carne<br /> aflita<br /> <br /> teço teias<br /> adentro bosques<br /> levo mar e aves<br /> com riso aberto<br /> <br /> ser penitência<br /> brasa<br /> espinho<br /> no secreto<br /> consumir<br /> da própria chama<br /> <br /> existir estranha lavra<br /> sem sonhar eternidade<br /> tatear sombras<br /> no amor reservado<br /> <br /> mirabolantes<br /> afetos imprecisos<br /> ser &nbsp;tomada<br /> possuída<br /> <br /> cubro-me<br /> no peso do<br /> limite da carne<br /> <br /> Hilda Helena Dias<br /> <br /> Foto: Sebastião Salgado<br /> <br /> Serra Pelada, 1986<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6TCgnc_btALXSnCIQW_xxbME4UR9nuTeG16ldHceClelP-2NeTdgupHleH6tSISWSgNPOWXORhbNj34MpgHw2l_bad2nXXPH5a-LMwuy_aJyRM03APg66mRdQASvDsn7134ltvArSbR4/s1600/FB_IMG_1487472222364.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6TCgnc_btALXSnCIQW_xxbME4UR9nuTeG16ldHceClelP-2NeTdgupHleH6tSISWSgNPOWXORhbNj34MpgHw2l_bad2nXXPH5a-LMwuy_aJyRM03APg66mRdQASvDsn7134ltvArSbR4/s320/FB_IMG_1487472222364.jpg" width="212" /></a></div> </div> Hilda Helena Raymundo Diashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12007127027796493085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4155148033607030052.post-48515195668538469972017-02-18T23:41:00.002-03:002017-02-18T23:41:25.663-03:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> nada além disso<br /> <br /> perdido na desordem<br /> o medo sem defesas<br /> não sabe o que<br /> dizer<br /> <br /> a vida<br /> no delírio sem controle<br /> dá risada<br /> o vivo não se cala<br /> escolhe viver<br /> <br /> Hilda Helena<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3dQKpilR6YX1AaxzLShSH1li316JAc5FRgazoFv-RxvxO_clQhCO7YlXI2seCHAuSUfBnmKt6lIR_nZBI5zzljv5Zs_dJRT84ZFgKjI5aAEuJqkzLxs6o903YTK8mL6ozWhMCQQXcuzI/s1600/FB_IMG_1487471964395.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3dQKpilR6YX1AaxzLShSH1li316JAc5FRgazoFv-RxvxO_clQhCO7YlXI2seCHAuSUfBnmKt6lIR_nZBI5zzljv5Zs_dJRT84ZFgKjI5aAEuJqkzLxs6o903YTK8mL6ozWhMCQQXcuzI/s320/FB_IMG_1487471964395.jpg" width="213" /></a></div> </div> Hilda Helena Raymundo Diashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12007127027796493085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4155148033607030052.post-6531058797463718082017-02-18T23:37:00.001-03:002017-02-18T23:37:17.973-03:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> gênero<br /> <br /> na infância<br /> os contos de fadas<br /> nada falavam de<br /> mim<br /> <br /> fragmentada<br /> nos castelos lendários<br /> lendas me aqueciam<br /> só<br /> <br /> em desertos<br /> o desdobramento<br /> do afeto e amor<br /> <br /> sem nada entender<br /> de voos e pássaros<br /> desenho meu voo.<br /> <br /> Hilda Helena<br /> <br /> William Blake<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRLgY3qACiM64T8Y9JrgkLqaySCyVQsz-yFr2h8UJ5C0yRH69kG2kvjSiJ8Xpfm17d8Y-fDy4k47DGTtm-2dtVPn0ztUeCW0HbhzMyI9snURJUOVNpljagS8OwSEQj_yP2WGZKQuL-dM/s1600/FB_IMG_1487471582049.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRLgY3qACiM64T8Y9JrgkLqaySCyVQsz-yFr2h8UJ5C0yRH69kG2kvjSiJ8Xpfm17d8Y-fDy4k47DGTtm-2dtVPn0ztUeCW0HbhzMyI9snURJUOVNpljagS8OwSEQj_yP2WGZKQuL-dM/s320/FB_IMG_1487471582049.jpg" width="229" /></a></div> </div> Hilda Helena Raymundo Diashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12007127027796493085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4155148033607030052.post-22371940967285791322017-02-13T23:41:00.000-02:002017-02-13T23:41:01.005-02:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> movimento<br /> <br /> a fonte secreta<br /> se oculta do<br /> início divino<br /> de si<br /> <br /> o fluxo das águas<br /> se move num caminho<br /> impensado<br /> evolução eterna<br /> jamais chega ao<br /> fim<br /> <br /> destino essencial<br /> todo dela<br /> <br /> no final a fonte<br /> da vida se vê sem<br /> solução<br /> morre no movimento<br /> do eterno vivo<br /> <br /> consciente de si.<br /> <br /> Hilda Helena<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWj55PzSNu6A3sJq-6Tf_gmYcjChJb5_lB3Ruh88ROlRJLQQYYrJ_lbDbt_1qXhKBq_CfM82DWVe3SC9Mv7hxoIUuDszofq1uF3opEGdDYektRvOyQetHtt91NDlQO9lxTCfVXC9rOCp8/s1600/167998.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWj55PzSNu6A3sJq-6Tf_gmYcjChJb5_lB3Ruh88ROlRJLQQYYrJ_lbDbt_1qXhKBq_CfM82DWVe3SC9Mv7hxoIUuDszofq1uF3opEGdDYektRvOyQetHtt91NDlQO9lxTCfVXC9rOCp8/s320/167998.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> </div> Hilda Helena Raymundo Diashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12007127027796493085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4155148033607030052.post-33408358421178364412017-02-12T19:37:00.000-02:002017-02-12T19:37:27.446-02:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> Pó divino<br /> <br /> separada da morada<br /> dos deuses<br /> mesclada de sol<br /> e terra<br /> passeio na Terra<br /> <br /> nas sombras sem lua<br /> contrária ao vento<br /> entre dois mundos<br /> me vejo no outro<br /> <br /> ouvidos abertos<br /> na ternura<br /> veem o sangue<br /> purificado<br /> <br /> perfeito amor<br /> que não se divide<br /> na carne punida<br /> se faz.<br /> <br /> Hilda Helena<br /> <br /> arte:William Blake<span id="goog_521133514"></span><br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9yFj9gkYqmiCj9VKZqWM-jVaHmbwL5PcROzQH6Qlkp2wfaO8fmij9C_4ZaV0CWCZiA-Ju2SkRSYd8pcT2hdcKeYGheN4M0FmHI9wqwrDXWJ_v18mJCtNkp3FfWWvmSMp5Y-QTghMLTJQ/s1600/173b536d8160056c6b632b9a95942a9c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9yFj9gkYqmiCj9VKZqWM-jVaHmbwL5PcROzQH6Qlkp2wfaO8fmij9C_4ZaV0CWCZiA-Ju2SkRSYd8pcT2hdcKeYGheN4M0FmHI9wqwrDXWJ_v18mJCtNkp3FfWWvmSMp5Y-QTghMLTJQ/s320/173b536d8160056c6b632b9a95942a9c.jpg" width="233" /></a></div> <span id="goog_521133513"></span></div> Hilda Helena Raymundo Diashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12007127027796493085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4155148033607030052.post-1833426684261418432017-02-08T02:31:00.000-02:002017-02-08T02:32:30.868-02:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> identidade<br /> <br /> o amor<br /> será passado<br /> direi adeus<br /> as muitas que<br /> sou<br /> <br /> no labirinto<br /> me faço<br /> o corpo move à<br /> medida do amor<br /> <br /> um rosto de<br /> barro esquecido:<br /> memória...<br /> <br /> Hilda Helena<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg5ggzLXWuDJMRSZ0XzyePuodXMBquXUSsL1EUuNMvMpNgztNO-N4Q71xV3OIZPr6qhL8SmapTubvDO6Q_E6JNeHEcH79FkP_QWJXzfhFtLxhg0jFtW5_dcmMmFMBYgMl4jscXEuet27o/s1600/in-the-mirror.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg5ggzLXWuDJMRSZ0XzyePuodXMBquXUSsL1EUuNMvMpNgztNO-N4Q71xV3OIZPr6qhL8SmapTubvDO6Q_E6JNeHEcH79FkP_QWJXzfhFtLxhg0jFtW5_dcmMmFMBYgMl4jscXEuet27o/s1600/in-the-mirror.jpg" /></a></div> </div> Hilda Helena Raymundo Diashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12007127027796493085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4155148033607030052.post-42497147374051474692017-02-08T02:27:00.000-02:002017-02-08T02:27:06.013-02:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> gravidez<br /> <br /> olho os escorpiões<br /> no meu pouco de<br /> terra<br /> <br /> o novo nasce<br /> velho<br /> a dor passeia<br /> no muro da<br /> morte<br /> <br /> no medo<br /> multiforme e<br /> calado<br /> o amor.<br /> <br /> Hilda Helena Dias<br /> <br /> Arte:William Blake<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3A34P8GLRH1_IXJJQBxXQ02CXY6AW-_P6aQcMkQ8snD20j7uqWEU_yq7evGh72nSdiLgt_oE402qiUnYrzB-Ix7yUHB60oyOspy4ZeYdqEp73ILI8DhSQ47FZ0IC7_VaKYZp54ZtzRpU/s1600/2df7a65cc5e02ec4f12c8559b3b01397.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3A34P8GLRH1_IXJJQBxXQ02CXY6AW-_P6aQcMkQ8snD20j7uqWEU_yq7evGh72nSdiLgt_oE402qiUnYrzB-Ix7yUHB60oyOspy4ZeYdqEp73ILI8DhSQ47FZ0IC7_VaKYZp54ZtzRpU/s320/2df7a65cc5e02ec4f12c8559b3b01397.jpg" width="195" /></a></div> </div> Hilda Helena Raymundo Diashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12007127027796493085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4155148033607030052.post-41522309987549147342017-02-08T02:23:00.001-02:002017-02-08T02:23:23.473-02:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> ouro<br /> <br /> submissa à terra<br /> sou tomada<br /> aceito perecer<br /> sem que a morte<br /> de mim se<br /> esqueça<br /> <br /> o amor em brasas<br /> na sombra<br /> soprará<br /> agonia e gozo<br /> <br /> no silêncio pesado<br /> a voz do amor<br /> se fará na<br /> eterna dor<br /> <br /> no outro<br /> o ouro<br /> mais fundo.<br /> <br /> Hilda Helena<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO5tKqW1kkAw6R6w7Yjja4JDjcMAGrQVmOxgjGOzvLhg_rgPM85BCbaIVnMMS3MX9QYoT-bPwYOyDUXKb_CRFfbHqBdIzX4UDVwSRlJLZpRY6bCEUAO40Wfrbzj2xZxN8RQJeUbk2DarI/s1600/images+%252816%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO5tKqW1kkAw6R6w7Yjja4JDjcMAGrQVmOxgjGOzvLhg_rgPM85BCbaIVnMMS3MX9QYoT-bPwYOyDUXKb_CRFfbHqBdIzX4UDVwSRlJLZpRY6bCEUAO40Wfrbzj2xZxN8RQJeUbk2DarI/s320/images+%252816%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> </div> Hilda Helena Raymundo Diashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12007127027796493085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4155148033607030052.post-18165231159766955442017-02-08T02:18:00.000-02:002017-02-08T02:18:53.155-02:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> sem repouso<br /> <br /> no escuro<br /> o claro de mim<br /> faz o corpo opaco<br /> aparecer<br /> <br /> não me vejo<br /> nem sei de mim<br /> a verdade em sombras<br /> é minha<br /> <br /> o corpo assustado<br /> fechado no portal<br /> sem freio canta a<br /> vida e sangue<br /> <br /> sem limites o<br /> amor pulsa<br /> sem repouso<br /> na ideia me faço<br /> <br /> Hilda Helena<span id="goog_2048516182"></span><br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguZzLHjRaFvfMNiBLmXT-n0V_aPeDoydIHF6S0kjtxAPhWlP0esjr7fOTMP9YbisYrVzx9Ono4IxBq3VgbQNY_isN3QRIHsFGq-0O7IGoEqBcltVU9WcNEVDj_3ajieIvPW5LE3OlhjVg/s1600/991f6211db013ad623becf59c540bc9b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguZzLHjRaFvfMNiBLmXT-n0V_aPeDoydIHF6S0kjtxAPhWlP0esjr7fOTMP9YbisYrVzx9Ono4IxBq3VgbQNY_isN3QRIHsFGq-0O7IGoEqBcltVU9WcNEVDj_3ajieIvPW5LE3OlhjVg/s320/991f6211db013ad623becf59c540bc9b.jpg" width="286" /></a></div> <span id="goog_2048516181"></span></div> Hilda Helena Raymundo Diashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12007127027796493085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4155148033607030052.post-71242399856267796432017-02-08T02:12:00.000-02:002017-02-08T10:57:46.628-02:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> Gatilho pretende ser uma arma apontada de volta. Não só na cabeça, mas nos sentidos, na história, nas certezas, nos tipos que constituem o nosso Real e nos torna servos voluntários.<br /> <br /> Contribuem para a edição: || Alberto Lins Caldas || Bárbara Bento || Bruna Wanderley Pereira || Carla Andressa || Cid Brasil || Fátima Costa || Felipe Soares || Gabriele Rosa || Geovanne Otavio Ursulino || Guilherme Ramos || Gustavo Petter || Henrique Pitt || Hilda Helena Dias || Iriwelton Caetano || Laís Araruna || Leonardo Viana || Lucas Litrento || Luna Salazar || Nayara Fernandes || Paulo César Moreira || Rubens Jardim || Sara Albuquerque || Sérgio Prado Moura ||<br /> <br /> Acesse pelo link:<br /> <a href="http://alagunas.com/gatilho">alagunas.com/gatilho</a><br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIfydWkVpdlu9QOpgbJE3Tvs7aEdR7PBlyHZpan4Xs1TpYcNNO-jzZgN8H7imJDyG2aM83ldxrFKTIM66sTHxayRcS_sxX_EZnvGR9myp7ynpiEuzT-D6tG5yupS_b8uacCa-TNhTo9ME/s1600/FB_IMG_1485105703675.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIfydWkVpdlu9QOpgbJE3Tvs7aEdR7PBlyHZpan4Xs1TpYcNNO-jzZgN8H7imJDyG2aM83ldxrFKTIM66sTHxayRcS_sxX_EZnvGR9myp7ynpiEuzT-D6tG5yupS_b8uacCa-TNhTo9ME/s320/FB_IMG_1485105703675.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> </div> Hilda Helena Raymundo Diashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12007127027796493085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4155148033607030052.post-80118455473644115802017-02-08T02:07:00.001-02:002017-02-08T02:09:18.790-02:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> no &nbsp;lugar mais fundo<br /> de mim<br /> raízes mudas<br /> cantam<br /> com voz de sol<br /> <br /> a trajetória do<br /> amor é ampla<br /> nasce de flores<br /> sono e<br /> lamento.<br /> Hilda Helena<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2E1vuCYFsfzIioUSaRCMZR4TPTEa4n7fKSXfGxnRw_EQUpmYtCr4jbgImQ8T1n6Hu5VhzITOY5PStSmpymqU8ZXxYEsMiQRaZVC6NPzc2rj__Y_R5xNlRcg6d2KPnVW8Yd86jeDq4Ezk/s1600/152a4eba2e02f3590f41813e77e4b3d1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2E1vuCYFsfzIioUSaRCMZR4TPTEa4n7fKSXfGxnRw_EQUpmYtCr4jbgImQ8T1n6Hu5VhzITOY5PStSmpymqU8ZXxYEsMiQRaZVC6NPzc2rj__Y_R5xNlRcg6d2KPnVW8Yd86jeDq4Ezk/s320/152a4eba2e02f3590f41813e77e4b3d1.jpg" width="222" /></a></div> </div> Hilda Helena Raymundo Diashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12007127027796493085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4155148033607030052.post-45341382825730427672017-02-08T02:02:00.001-02:002017-02-08T02:02:44.746-02:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> a guerrilha<br /> <br /> libertos no limite<br /> do &nbsp;nada ser<br /> carne e ossos<br /> se exibem<br /> <br /> sem peso<br /> corpos sangrando<br /> conversam com<br /> a &nbsp;vida<br /> <br /> menores &nbsp;ficam<br /> na guerra eterna<br /> gozam comendo<br /> pedaços de si.<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjf1Y8kTr7Sk2iGIGY7uUkpqNUdhAclyz7QxmqcdmBPMgmAo7KJ7yKpULLPa2Y3lKTyTwF8f4RdKiRD9F1yIgm4UsHs8pTvisyNAiuCpkSUMh5DHB9_qScSWXIMc7aty9T_PCyl1fiI4o/s1600/FB_IMG_1486526452545.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjf1Y8kTr7Sk2iGIGY7uUkpqNUdhAclyz7QxmqcdmBPMgmAo7KJ7yKpULLPa2Y3lKTyTwF8f4RdKiRD9F1yIgm4UsHs8pTvisyNAiuCpkSUMh5DHB9_qScSWXIMc7aty9T_PCyl1fiI4o/s320/FB_IMG_1486526452545.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> </div> Hilda Helena Raymundo Diashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12007127027796493085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4155148033607030052.post-61621328588135490982017-02-08T01:57:00.001-02:002017-02-08T01:57:58.724-02:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> o monstro<br /> <br /> tensa<br /> mergulho no<br /> gozo momento<br /> sorvo as horas<br /> embriagada pelo<br /> sangue<br /> em minha veia<br /> <br /> nada digo<br /> não quero dizer<br /> penso de dentro<br /> entre fumaças<br /> respiro<br /> todo meu<br /> eu<br /> <br /> escancara pelo<br /> corpo a<br /> consciência<br /> vejo o antes e<br /> depois<br /> iludo-me<br /> de nada ser e<br /> nem continuar<br /> a ser nada<br /> o ser em mim<br /> luta com<br /> a monstruosidade de<br /> nada ser<br /> <br /> de repente o<br /> silêncio<br /> minha língua<br /> viva e monstruosa<br /> de ser o horror<br /> me fere<br /> <br /> serei obstruído<br /> do real<br /> doente<br /> não digo<br /> que nada significo<br /> <br /> recuso-me a falar<br /> mergulho e falo de<br /> dentro das dobras<br /> que sou feita de<br /> carne<br /> <br /> contra todos<br /> os contras<br /> enlouqueço<br /> supero-me<br /> com a cabeça sangrando<br /> não escapo de<br /> mim<br /> enfrento-me<br /> sou um arsenal<br /> em um corpo<br /> disposto.<br /> <br /> Hilda Helena Dias<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmCmICB-eBn-60C5cGuf9y6rei-nhapqbHPmogY6STsaGp4CnsWO3cGFMxCC1bl-IuMYZiHqVZD9LYLMetfalLm2a6JPUlCEkxmp6c_UYchM69MOlnuhHf8zN7iYvshIjKlSgYx_-gjTo/s1600/Taylor+James.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmCmICB-eBn-60C5cGuf9y6rei-nhapqbHPmogY6STsaGp4CnsWO3cGFMxCC1bl-IuMYZiHqVZD9LYLMetfalLm2a6JPUlCEkxmp6c_UYchM69MOlnuhHf8zN7iYvshIjKlSgYx_-gjTo/s320/Taylor+James.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> </div> Hilda Helena Raymundo Diashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12007127027796493085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4155148033607030052.post-33170752464386117122017-02-08T01:53:00.001-02:002017-02-08T01:53:50.472-02:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> coração extenso<br /> <br /> nos dias longos de<br /> noites curtas<br /> temo no perpétuo<br /> instante ser<br /> brevidade do<br /> infinito amor<br /> <br /> apagar o existir<br /> da matéria no<br /> sangue<br /> desordena<br /> <br /> a ideia de existir<br /> no outro<br /> é ser céu de mim<br /> <br /> o meu passado e<br /> futuro o tempo<br /> engole<br /> degusta-se o<br /> que em vermelho<br /> a vida anuncia.<br /> <br /> Hilda Helena Dias<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhsuYBMCIJcJw3P_qImNiKpiYpvgsr4htOvFHjPKC3uMCOGD04DsV1x9Ey0fM69hdOL-dYbc-3msyEi9C6q6jQ472dtGOQQO-Gisx5WE6HtkflZbLl0LVuSeH25_QmGMWSp_cH1yxrByo/s1600/3596348dff2e261ae7273f9a72b3ea57.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhsuYBMCIJcJw3P_qImNiKpiYpvgsr4htOvFHjPKC3uMCOGD04DsV1x9Ey0fM69hdOL-dYbc-3msyEi9C6q6jQ472dtGOQQO-Gisx5WE6HtkflZbLl0LVuSeH25_QmGMWSp_cH1yxrByo/s320/3596348dff2e261ae7273f9a72b3ea57.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> </div> Hilda Helena Raymundo Diashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12007127027796493085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4155148033607030052.post-90942266648987152017-01-20T00:39:00.000-02:002017-02-08T01:36:40.490-02:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> herdeira<br /> <br /> o tempo<br /> abandona o que<br /> perfura<br /> transpassa todos<br /> lados<br /> <br /> mitos convertidos<br /> desmentidos<br /> na comunhão das eras<br /> <br /> destroços agora<br /> são heranças<br /> de mim.<br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> Arte: Alice Welling<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-TUuV1Q1hMr__gOEq2aihiifvwuNDMRPRjGMSPa3obGl3bXIwOLX2w0f5_B2YtwJQBzxfdNiFa5TTt8I-37w079W8Xhyphenhyphen68CgDIawbyMu9-gGvLNDpCJ-XnpHsOmlWb6W8Qi6wpFEjy1U/s1600/FB_IMG_1484768291941.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-TUuV1Q1hMr__gOEq2aihiifvwuNDMRPRjGMSPa3obGl3bXIwOLX2w0f5_B2YtwJQBzxfdNiFa5TTt8I-37w079W8Xhyphenhyphen68CgDIawbyMu9-gGvLNDpCJ-XnpHsOmlWb6W8Qi6wpFEjy1U/s320/FB_IMG_1484768291941.jpg" width="247" /></a></div> er</div> Hilda Helena Raymundo Diashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12007127027796493085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4155148033607030052.post-26867511805700417232017-01-14T19:47:00.001-02:002017-01-14T19:47:26.939-02:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> <div> perfeição</div> <div> <br /></div> <div> a navalha não cansa</div> <div> múltiplas imagens refletidas</div> <div> descaminhos</div> <div> esquinas</div> <div> mistérios não domados</div> <div> <br /></div> <div> a arma branca não se&nbsp;</div> <div> submete</div> <div> não se extermina</div> <div> é disfarce</div> <div> forma monopolista sem</div> <div> representação&nbsp;</div> <div> <br /></div> <div> o aço intimida fixo</div> <div> com a delicadeza gélida&nbsp;</div> <div> <br /></div> <div> disfarce bárbaro limpo</div> <div> como ceder-te em gêneros&nbsp;</div> <div> uma experiência</div> <div> uma designação?</div> <div> <br /></div> <div> Hilda Helena Dias<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivw1J1qZ0Bm6FdEejaPE8gL2wwpikVLwHEsNlmI5Kq50eLq4IBY1yxtQLWrYyENG4AMD7dl1c0ue0Mhlq4CmQwWKxmThYcp-eHG7whmBLqEspYdXsfaepxVgwv8Ut_4agQeWIgRCWpHkA/s1600/1ecd377b7741b07e8565a652539193e6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivw1J1qZ0Bm6FdEejaPE8gL2wwpikVLwHEsNlmI5Kq50eLq4IBY1yxtQLWrYyENG4AMD7dl1c0ue0Mhlq4CmQwWKxmThYcp-eHG7whmBLqEspYdXsfaepxVgwv8Ut_4agQeWIgRCWpHkA/s1600/1ecd377b7741b07e8565a652539193e6.jpg" /></a></div> </div> </div> Hilda Helena Raymundo Diashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12007127027796493085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4155148033607030052.post-59793710777345353032017-01-12T20:45:00.002-02:002017-01-12T20:45:45.755-02:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> Há de vir<br /> <br /> virá o todo-poderoso<br /> sombra corrosiva<br /> respirando meu miolo<br /> na torcida pétala<br /> de carne<br /> <br /> o que há dentro<br /> será arrancado pelos<br /> dentes do tigre<br /> com lâminas o obscuro será<br /> desenhado em sangue rosado<br /> filtrado da veia explosiva<br /> <br /> ao vento<br /> longe da masmorra<br /> me verei toda nua<br /> em &nbsp;círculos intensos<br /> aspirando e vomitando<br /> amores além da medida.<br /> <br /> Hilda Helena Dias<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp4jGnsJA4kB7Nqw6_l5WloL7lLUkz1xwo-LraQLMJJW7aYZ17JzwokeHiq8Z4R5UR6l_gGXrvdzxj-JybI43MgBmM4EdtFAPSLcO7r3jW3_0gkPL-4WrQ4SXhhpS0Q-k-S_ZYskIyjT0/s1600/received_10154899043068695.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp4jGnsJA4kB7Nqw6_l5WloL7lLUkz1xwo-LraQLMJJW7aYZ17JzwokeHiq8Z4R5UR6l_gGXrvdzxj-JybI43MgBmM4EdtFAPSLcO7r3jW3_0gkPL-4WrQ4SXhhpS0Q-k-S_ZYskIyjT0/s320/received_10154899043068695.png" width="180" /></a></div> </div> Hilda Helena Raymundo Diashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12007127027796493085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4155148033607030052.post-26665468756088290092017-01-12T20:42:00.001-02:002017-01-12T20:42:17.652-02:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> Indiferente à sorte<br /> <br /> sou poeira vazia<br /> que não cabe dentro de mim<br /> a alma vazia reside no pó<br /> sonho resíduos dos sonhos<br /> do outro<br /> <br /> com arame farpado<br /> nas costas<br /> a teia das sombras<br /> não me guarda<br /> <br /> sangro meus passos<br /> cega de tanto olhar para mim<br /> afogada no cansaço<br /> da infinita procura<br /> <br /> durmo humana<br /> no desenho do nada<br /> mato minha sede<br /> sem saber quem sou<br /> <br /> o meu nome será gritado<br /> na ausência do corpo que<br /> me sustenta<br /> <br /> devorada sem dentes<br /> contra a vontade<br /> na fúria desordenada<br /> deixarei de ser humana<br /> <br /> na luz sem juízo da vida<br /> a razão &nbsp;pulsa<br /> diante de ser barro<br /> <br /> desapareço na loucura da<br /> noite negra<br /> dona de um prazer breve<br /> canto<br /> a alma na moldura é<br /> indiferente<br /> <br /> no contrastes das luzes<br /> o sangue é lambido<br /> o mundo que sei<br /> é o que tenho<br /> <br /> conhecer-me no depois<br /> é promessa magra<br /> sentida na delícia do nu<br /> <br /> na fome do todo eu<br /> seduzida pelo finito gasto<br /> me retalho<br /> gasto-me no nada<br /> o nada fica pesado com os<br /> pensamentos comidos.<br /> <br /> feita de carne<br /> sangro<br /> deixo-me amar<br /> <br /> Hilda Helena Dias<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOWQlclQVNSH8jEyYioOeGa6gpnw0alcU_b5yEARcdUu0p26mf_a13C_oKIV_93iUkmHUerjVQiqhLNhcb89nx1S1VNldUhv8hEnQVvH2bvFKfK36ajuJ0hRuwGXME920GDL3SlYF2Pi0/s1600/images+%252815%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOWQlclQVNSH8jEyYioOeGa6gpnw0alcU_b5yEARcdUu0p26mf_a13C_oKIV_93iUkmHUerjVQiqhLNhcb89nx1S1VNldUhv8hEnQVvH2bvFKfK36ajuJ0hRuwGXME920GDL3SlYF2Pi0/s320/images+%252815%2529.jpg" width="255" /></a></div> </div> Hilda Helena Raymundo Diashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12007127027796493085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4155148033607030052.post-47391930825753735732017-01-10T15:37:00.001-02:002017-01-10T15:37:59.852-02:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> corpos revelados<br /> <br /> com fome nos comerão &nbsp;<br /> somos vício escuro da Terra<br /> clareando o nada<br /> <br /> no desejo da eternidade<br /> diante do nada<br /> brinco com o medo no exílio<br /> de &nbsp;encontros de perguntas<br /> <br /> esquecendo da prisão<br /> dos ossos possuídos <br /> em neblina me canto<br /> antes de ser pó<br /> <br /> flutuo sobre a Grande Face<br /> o amor juntando vazios<br /> revela corpos raros .<br /> <br /> Hilda Helena Dias<br /> Arte: Ludovic Florent<br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLhUeVBVSNmlzyG1o1W2P_vJ39HHBUcBezHJx_WD5I47dnG_D_TnBNMuJC-05_RiulzZFrSxGWllM-qRbKQiR_VwkHxbJgf-GDpSA0Wuhf6etm0xMUJeN-I37fZi6pY6vpCrkWdJIyspw/s1600/FB_IMG_1484058471764.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLhUeVBVSNmlzyG1o1W2P_vJ39HHBUcBezHJx_WD5I47dnG_D_TnBNMuJC-05_RiulzZFrSxGWllM-qRbKQiR_VwkHxbJgf-GDpSA0Wuhf6etm0xMUJeN-I37fZi6pY6vpCrkWdJIyspw/s320/FB_IMG_1484058471764.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> </div> Hilda Helena Raymundo Diashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12007127027796493085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4155148033607030052.post-30654192828972466882017-01-09T01:16:00.001-02:002017-01-09T01:16:43.683-02:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> <br /> crepúsculo do louco<br /> <br /> num tempo de entardecer<br /> ouvi o som indecifrável<br /> de um louco<br /> <br /> falava da língua molhada<br /> da Terra<br /> moldando sua carne a<br /> minha<br /> e jurava ser eu o Paraíso<br /> <br /> ao seu toque inatingível<br /> gritei sustentando<br /> a própria vida<br /> <br /> raízes de ninguém<br /> saiam dele<br /> na eternidade das luas<br /> eram minhas<br /> <br /> na volúpia dos corpos<br /> celebrei o outro<br /> entendendo ser eu .<br /> <br /> Hilda Helena Dias<br /> <br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEippwx_S-ZE5ghzCw9hC5fEvjyslS-iUquusUmdmSpyQFeMUgDS8mScHuzP0XI8bu6Fb5J1kAic5IPlonwn1WAxnC15unymkYuMNucxnvEEmuXGHdb9AVKNSiTOxY11zKn-NBFIBtIExIA/s1600/7c071eefbc8efc3d02673a82f1285638.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEippwx_S-ZE5ghzCw9hC5fEvjyslS-iUquusUmdmSpyQFeMUgDS8mScHuzP0XI8bu6Fb5J1kAic5IPlonwn1WAxnC15unymkYuMNucxnvEEmuXGHdb9AVKNSiTOxY11zKn-NBFIBtIExIA/s320/7c071eefbc8efc3d02673a82f1285638.jpg" width="270" /></a></div> <br /></div> Hilda Helena Raymundo Diashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12007127027796493085noreply@blogger.com0