<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;DEYESX84fyp7ImA9WhRWFEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9047186019162018345</id><updated>2012-01-01T19:48:28.137-08:00</updated><title>Sentimentos Paralelos</title><subtitle type="html">Pessoas diferentes, de mundos distintos, idades das mais variadas, possuem sentimentos semelhantes, quase iguais, que vão para a mesma direção... sentimentos paralelos.</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/" /><author><name>Alexandre Spinelli</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/107601866441775535184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-O_YQ6bxp-oQ/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAErc/J1334p59Isg/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>16</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/SentimentosParalelos" /><feedburner:info uri="sentimentosparalelos" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0QNSHc_eip7ImA9WhRWEks.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9047186019162018345.post-2676877969700187645</id><published>2011-08-18T11:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-12-30T10:23:19.942-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-30T10:23:19.942-08:00</app:edited><title>Vinil - II</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span lang="PT-BR" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Quando o assunto é nós, fico dividida como disco antigo,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span lang="PT-BR" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Lado A e lado B, faixas e expectativas.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span lang="PT-BR" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Lado A é da menina que não quis te magoar,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span lang="PT-BR" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Das músicas que tocam no ritmo da banda,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span lang="PT-BR" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;No ritmo e no rumo que a vida tinha.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span lang="PT-BR" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Lado B é da criação do irreal,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span lang="PT-BR" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;De pedaços meus e teus, entre lençóis&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span lang="PT-BR" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;De contos de fada que não existem.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span lang="PT-BR" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;O hit do disco fala de um sorriso bonito,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span lang="PT-BR" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;De uma camisa limpa e de uma amigdalite&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span lang="PT-BR" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Que não são base para um relacionamento.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span lang="PT-BR" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Agora que ressurgiste com esta simpatia de vodca,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span lang="PT-BR" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Com este desconhecido gene de coragem,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span lang="PT-BR" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Com o sorriso ainda mais bonito e o cabelo mais ralo,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span lang="PT-BR" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Com uma camiseta daquelas, limpa, &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span lang="PT-BR" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Daquelas que não servem de base para um futuro,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span lang="PT-BR" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Não acho sequer o toca discos.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span lang="PT-BR" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Acho que não fabricam mais,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;
&lt;span lang="PT-BR" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Quem sabe um dia.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span lang="PT-BR" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span lang="PT-BR" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span lang="PT-BR" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Poema escrito a partir da crônica&amp;nbsp;&lt;strong&gt;Vinil&lt;/strong&gt;, de Camilla Leonel.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span lang="PT-BR" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://sentimentolices.blogspot.com/2011/08/vinil.html"&gt;http://sentimentolices.blogspot.com/2011/08/vinil.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9047186019162018345-2676877969700187645?l=sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/12hJt0n26oidlgyN3G-rkoEAi7Y/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/12hJt0n26oidlgyN3G-rkoEAi7Y/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/12hJt0n26oidlgyN3G-rkoEAi7Y/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/12hJt0n26oidlgyN3G-rkoEAi7Y/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~4/pZYUi_jS7oQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/feeds/2676877969700187645/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9047186019162018345&amp;postID=2676877969700187645" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/2676877969700187645?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/2676877969700187645?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~3/pZYUi_jS7oQ/vinil-ii.html" title="Vinil - II" /><author><name>Alexandre Spinelli</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/107601866441775535184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-O_YQ6bxp-oQ/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAErc/J1334p59Isg/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/2011/08/vinil-ii.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU4ERHg_fSp7ImA9WhZTGE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9047186019162018345.post-4035312149428691811</id><published>2011-03-22T15:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-22T15:45:05.645-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-03-22T15:45:05.645-07:00</app:edited><title>Soneto Triste Assim</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;No conforto da tristeza sempre faço o meu lugar &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Identifico-me sem receio, como de costume.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Sei que em tudo há um lado bom, mesmo que nem sinta o perfume&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Sei que sempre haverá algo para nos inspirar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Com minha tristeza não poderia haver variante&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Ela me traz de volta à realidade, não mais sonho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Muito mais real que as efemeridades que componho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;É retorno à lucidez depois de um porre enebriante&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Na tristeza me pego no colo, me faço ninar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;E canto leve para essa luz que se faz dentro de mim.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Vejo meu chão firme e que para medos não há lugar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Desta cadeira vazia olho para todos e, enfim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Percebo que seus sorrisos na verdade são tristeza&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;A minha, estranhamente, traz alegria à minha mesa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Poema escrito a partir da crônica &lt;strong&gt;Triste Assim&lt;/strong&gt;, de Be Lins.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span lang="PT-BR" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: PT-BR;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://umaestrelanamao.blogspot.com/2011/02/triste-assim.html"&gt;http://umaestrelanamao.blogspot.com/2011/02/triste-assim.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9047186019162018345-4035312149428691811?l=sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/b1pphjwd-eQEoYkLbdogkXxrNZ0/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/b1pphjwd-eQEoYkLbdogkXxrNZ0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/b1pphjwd-eQEoYkLbdogkXxrNZ0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/b1pphjwd-eQEoYkLbdogkXxrNZ0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~4/J7x2nZVmfis" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/feeds/4035312149428691811/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9047186019162018345&amp;postID=4035312149428691811" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/4035312149428691811?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/4035312149428691811?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~3/J7x2nZVmfis/soneto-triste-assim.html" title="Soneto Triste Assim" /><author><name>Alexandre Spinelli</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/107601866441775535184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-O_YQ6bxp-oQ/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAErc/J1334p59Isg/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/2011/03/soneto-triste-assim.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU8BSXo6eip7ImA9WhZTGE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9047186019162018345.post-7971975255471067442</id><published>2010-02-19T12:18:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-22T15:44:18.412-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-03-22T15:44:18.412-07:00</app:edited><title>Amar é pra quem pode</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Gostar é fácil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;O mundo ainda gira à nossa volta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Somos tirados pra dançar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Mas não perdemos o compasso&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Gostar é fácil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Só se precisa de um dia calmo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Uma boa conversa, algumas invenções&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Mágoa doce em boca amarga&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Gostar é fácil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Não se perde o sono, nem o fôlego&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Mas é pouco e não sobrevive&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Outros surgem no coração que não se dá&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Mas amor, amor dá trabalho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Não tem hora, nem dúvida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;É sem contrato, mas não sem alma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;É sim ou não, mas nunca talvez&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Amor é aceitar defeitos e perdas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;É aceitar o não pode sem desistir&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;É aquele chute de leve atrás do joelho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Que bambeia a perna, mas não derruba&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Amor aconchega e pede quase nada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Só um atende, que sou eu.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Poema escrito a partir da crônica &lt;b&gt;Ventura&lt;/b&gt;, de Camilla Leonel.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://sentimentolices.blogspot.com/2009/12/ventura.html"&gt;http://sentimentolices.blogspot.com/2009/12/ventura.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9047186019162018345-7971975255471067442?l=sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/P-arUHiyXIqIykFV_eJo8X1mhtg/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/P-arUHiyXIqIykFV_eJo8X1mhtg/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/P-arUHiyXIqIykFV_eJo8X1mhtg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/P-arUHiyXIqIykFV_eJo8X1mhtg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~4/XwBO_FGiQH0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/feeds/7971975255471067442/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9047186019162018345&amp;postID=7971975255471067442" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/7971975255471067442?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/7971975255471067442?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~3/XwBO_FGiQH0/amar-e-pra-quem-pode.html" title="Amar é pra quem pode" /><author><name>Alexandre Spinelli</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/107601866441775535184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-O_YQ6bxp-oQ/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAErc/J1334p59Isg/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/2010/02/amar-e-pra-quem-pode.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkYEQng8eCp7ImA9WxBVFUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9047186019162018345.post-5513633556457396562</id><published>2010-02-18T22:13:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-18T22:15:03.670-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-02-18T22:15:03.670-08:00</app:edited><title>A Morte da Dor</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;A dor dormia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Acordava a dor&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Comia e bebia&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Banho, perfume&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;E cama pra dor&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Olhos fechados&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Pra fugir como magia&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Da mente, da alma&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Mas ela não podia&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;E solitária a dor&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Só fazia crescer&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Imensa, imensa&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Impossível sobreviver&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;E a dor definhou, morreu&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;A contragosto ela se foi&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Depois de lutar, luta de um só&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Luta perdida desde sempre&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Morreu como flor&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Sensível, linda, mas não resistiu&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;Sozinha, a flor amava&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;O jardineiro só se empolgava&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;Poema escrito a partir da crônica&amp;nbsp;&lt;b&gt;Dor de Amor&lt;/b&gt;, de Georgia Gonçalves.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://hajahojeparatantoontem.blogspot.com/2010/02/dor-de-amor.html"&gt;http://hajahojeparatantoontem.blogspot.com/2010/02/dor-de-amor.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9047186019162018345-5513633556457396562?l=sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/H9ta-XC9DIUvtqOwL7I_uWQ-dUg/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/H9ta-XC9DIUvtqOwL7I_uWQ-dUg/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/H9ta-XC9DIUvtqOwL7I_uWQ-dUg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/H9ta-XC9DIUvtqOwL7I_uWQ-dUg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~4/f0Mz2dUXaQI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/feeds/5513633556457396562/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9047186019162018345&amp;postID=5513633556457396562" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/5513633556457396562?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/5513633556457396562?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~3/f0Mz2dUXaQI/morte-da-dor.html" title="A Morte da Dor" /><author><name>Alexandre Spinelli</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/107601866441775535184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-O_YQ6bxp-oQ/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAErc/J1334p59Isg/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/2010/02/morte-da-dor.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU4FQ306eip7ImA9WhRQEEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9047186019162018345.post-4923976050941716785</id><published>2009-01-18T07:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-04T08:58:32.312-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-04T08:58:32.312-08:00</app:edited><title>Pedaços de Nós</title><content type="html">Somos partes de nós&lt;br /&gt;
Partes do que foi nosso&lt;br /&gt;
Do nosso passado&lt;br /&gt;
Da nossa vida&lt;br /&gt;
De cada brincadeira infantil&lt;br /&gt;
Cada beijo, cada choro&lt;br /&gt;
De cada sorriso recebido&lt;br /&gt;
Principalmente, de cada sorriso dado&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sempre assim&lt;br /&gt;
Sempre guardando algo novo&lt;br /&gt;
Sempre aumentando nosso passado&lt;br /&gt;
Sempre a nos aumentar&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mas há partes e há partes&lt;br /&gt;
Há as que insistem em ficar&lt;br /&gt;
Sempre, o coração sabe&lt;br /&gt;
A razão e a ação criam a distância&lt;br /&gt;
Mas elas ficam&lt;br /&gt;
Guardadas em lugar mais seguro&lt;br /&gt;
Guardadas, nem sei, sob a pele&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Há lembranças que doem&lt;br /&gt;
Como beijo especial&lt;br /&gt;
Como violeta na beira da janela&lt;br /&gt;
Como foto que não sai do mural&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Poema escrito a partir da crônica &lt;b&gt;Do Nosso Jeito&lt;/b&gt;, de Camilla Leonel.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://sentimentolices.blogspot.com/2009/01/do-nosso-jeito.html"&gt;http://sentimentolices.blogspot.com/2009/01/do-nosso-jeito.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9047186019162018345-4923976050941716785?l=sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZVYXKkKNwbDcrPueVGvQ6F3GDB0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZVYXKkKNwbDcrPueVGvQ6F3GDB0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~4/dBOdRnkd1kw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/feeds/4923976050941716785/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9047186019162018345&amp;postID=4923976050941716785" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/4923976050941716785?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/4923976050941716785?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~3/dBOdRnkd1kw/pedaos-de-ns.html" title="Pedaços de Nós" /><author><name>Alexandre Spinelli</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/107601866441775535184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-O_YQ6bxp-oQ/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAErc/J1334p59Isg/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/2009/01/pedaos-de-ns.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkAMRnoycCp7ImA9WxRVFko.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9047186019162018345.post-4955697247900773787</id><published>2008-11-14T05:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-14T05:53:07.498-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-11-14T05:53:07.498-08:00</app:edited><title>Primeiro Amor</title><content type="html">Apenas seis anos&lt;br /&gt;Ainda era uma criança&lt;br /&gt;E descobriu o amor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não foi paixão fulminante&lt;br /&gt;Assim, à primeira vista&lt;br /&gt;Foi aos poucos&lt;br /&gt;Sendo conquistada&lt;br /&gt;Como todo grande amor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando se deu conta&lt;br /&gt;Já era tarde&lt;br /&gt;Ele já era seu melhor amigo&lt;br /&gt;Seu confidente&lt;br /&gt;Via seus olhos brilhantes&lt;br /&gt;Sempre que estava por perto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apenas seis anos&lt;br /&gt;Ainda era uma criança&lt;br /&gt;E descobriu a perda&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seu amor se foi&lt;br /&gt;E descobriu mais&lt;br /&gt;O mais importante&lt;br /&gt;O mais doído&lt;br /&gt;Todo amor um dia acaba&lt;br /&gt;Todo grande amor é fugaz&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ele se foi&lt;br /&gt;Seu peixinho&lt;br /&gt;Seu amigo escamado&lt;br /&gt;Seu primeiro amor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Alexandre Spinelli&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poema escrito a partir da crônica &lt;strong&gt;Sobre a sensibilidade&lt;/strong&gt;, de Camilla Leonel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://sentimentolices.blogspot.com/2008/11/sobre-sensibilidade.html"&gt;http://sentimentolices.blogspot.com/2008/11/sobre-sensibilidade.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9047186019162018345-4955697247900773787?l=sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/xcD91402B_FQLV5fwAJqNDHME_s/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/xcD91402B_FQLV5fwAJqNDHME_s/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~4/_CW3hIxZHiw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/feeds/4955697247900773787/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9047186019162018345&amp;postID=4955697247900773787" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/4955697247900773787?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/4955697247900773787?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~3/_CW3hIxZHiw/primeiro-amor.html" title="Primeiro Amor" /><author><name>Alexandre Spinelli</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/107601866441775535184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-O_YQ6bxp-oQ/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAErc/J1334p59Isg/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/2008/11/primeiro-amor.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUcBRHc_eip7ImA9WhRWEEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9047186019162018345.post-2897132141390718697</id><published>2008-11-04T15:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-28T09:24:15.942-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-28T09:24:15.942-08:00</app:edited><title>Só por você</title><content type="html">Caminhar na praia&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uIu01SIQ4p0/TTt_rPzmhOI/AAAAAAAAACc/1auLgqliBAQ/s1600/familia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uIu01SIQ4p0/TTt_rPzmhOI/AAAAAAAAACc/1auLgqliBAQ/s320/familia.jpg" width="212" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Correr no calçadão&lt;br /&gt;
Academia, sol e natação&lt;br /&gt;
Dietas e educação alimentar&lt;br /&gt;
Manter o corpo dourado&lt;br /&gt;
As curvas bem definidas&lt;br /&gt;
Só para você&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Cuidar da mente&lt;br /&gt;
Boas leituras&lt;br /&gt;
Estudo e formatura&lt;br /&gt;
Ter um bom nome&lt;br /&gt;
Uma carreira que dê orgulho&lt;br /&gt;
Só planos para te levar comigo&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Levar a Laura no balé&lt;br /&gt;
O Ernesto e o Mateus no futebol&lt;br /&gt;
E, às cinco, pegar nossa pequena&lt;br /&gt;
Nossa filha com nome de flor&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Passar o domingo no parque&lt;br /&gt;
Chimarrão à tarde&lt;br /&gt;
Pizza à noite&lt;br /&gt;
Colocar as crianças para dormir&lt;br /&gt;
E te amar devagarzinho&lt;br /&gt;
Até adormecer, até amanhecer&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Tudo são planos&lt;br /&gt;
Tudo são sonhos&lt;br /&gt;
Querer ser a mais bonita&lt;br /&gt;
Não parar de melhorar&lt;br /&gt;
Não parar de me enfeitar&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Tudo eu mudaria&lt;br /&gt;
Tudo eu seria&lt;br /&gt;
Se de repente você voltasse&lt;br /&gt;
Se de repente fosse agora&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;em&gt;Alexandre Spinelli&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Poema escrito a partir da crônica do dia 03 de novembro, de Cáh Morandi.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://depoisdasletras.blogspot.com/2008/11/03-de-novembro.html"&gt;http://depoisdasletras.blogspot.com/2008/11/03-de-novembro.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9047186019162018345-2897132141390718697?l=sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CXOwZTM9aSsUCwec647pcJ0mpqg/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CXOwZTM9aSsUCwec647pcJ0mpqg/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CXOwZTM9aSsUCwec647pcJ0mpqg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CXOwZTM9aSsUCwec647pcJ0mpqg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~4/U7y52V21ekA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/feeds/2897132141390718697/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9047186019162018345&amp;postID=2897132141390718697" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/2897132141390718697?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/2897132141390718697?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~3/U7y52V21ekA/s-por-voc.html" title="Só por você" /><author><name>Alexandre Spinelli</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/107601866441775535184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-O_YQ6bxp-oQ/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAErc/J1334p59Isg/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uIu01SIQ4p0/TTt_rPzmhOI/AAAAAAAAACc/1auLgqliBAQ/s72-c/familia.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/2008/11/s-por-voc.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkMAQXk6eip7ImA9WhdQFk8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9047186019162018345.post-4378679617375767897</id><published>2008-11-02T07:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-08-17T16:40:40.712-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-17T16:40:40.712-07:00</app:edited><title>A Poeta e a Vida</title><content type="html">Ah, Vida,&lt;br /&gt;
Por que ser assim,&lt;br /&gt;
Razão ao dizer não,&lt;br /&gt;
Paixão ao dizer sim,&lt;br /&gt;
Piedade no talvez?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ah, Vida,&lt;br /&gt;
Por que me deixaste perdida&lt;br /&gt;
Sem romper do adeus,&lt;br /&gt;
Sem saber partir,&lt;br /&gt;
Sem ter um cais para ancorar,&lt;br /&gt;
Nem barco, nem mar,&lt;br /&gt;
Só enjôos e abandonos?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ah, Vida,&lt;br /&gt;
Por que passar o tempo&lt;br /&gt;
Só no calendário&lt;br /&gt;
E eu, perplexa&lt;br /&gt;
A cada amanhecer,&lt;br /&gt;
A cada raiar&lt;br /&gt;
E o tempo escorrendo?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ah, Vida,&lt;br /&gt;
Diz que não quero voltar;&lt;br /&gt;
Diz que ainda tropeço&lt;br /&gt;
Em palavras mortas no chão,&lt;br /&gt;
As mesmas que eram sem fim.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ah, Vida,&lt;br /&gt;
Diz que ainda sinto cheiro,&lt;br /&gt;
Vejo o sorriso,&lt;br /&gt;
Ouço as poesias e as palavras,&lt;br /&gt;
Ouço até o seu silêncio.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ah, Vida,&lt;br /&gt;
Ensina-me a arte dos encontros,&lt;br /&gt;
Perdoa-me se não amei&lt;br /&gt;
Que perdôo também.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mas, Vida,&lt;br /&gt;
Mais do que tudo,&lt;br /&gt;
Por favor, me diga,&lt;br /&gt;
Por que fazes isso comigo,&lt;br /&gt;
Com tão bobo coração?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
- Faço para que escrevas, Poetinha.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;em&gt;Alexandre Spinelli&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Poema escrito a partir da crônica &lt;strong&gt;Parábola&lt;/strong&gt;, de Camilla Leonel.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://sentimentolices.blogspot.com/2008/11/parbola.html"&gt;http://sentimentolices.blogspot.com/2008/11/parbola.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9047186019162018345-4378679617375767897?l=sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/QrvCuhmtsfK0dFsR3hMOD4C83OQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/QrvCuhmtsfK0dFsR3hMOD4C83OQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/QrvCuhmtsfK0dFsR3hMOD4C83OQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/QrvCuhmtsfK0dFsR3hMOD4C83OQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~4/gvJwsCknYJc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/feeds/4378679617375767897/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9047186019162018345&amp;postID=4378679617375767897" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/4378679617375767897?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/4378679617375767897?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~3/gvJwsCknYJc/poeta-e-vida.html" title="A Poeta e a Vida" /><author><name>Alexandre Spinelli</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/107601866441775535184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-O_YQ6bxp-oQ/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAErc/J1334p59Isg/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/2008/11/poeta-e-vida.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkcEQ3s5eyp7ImA9WhRWEko.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9047186019162018345.post-1230044169913448250</id><published>2008-10-30T03:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-12-30T10:33:22.523-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-30T10:33:22.523-08:00</app:edited><title>A Crisálida e o Aureliano</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QXDXvAXtJC4/Tv4C_tYOiQI/AAAAAAAAEoE/NY2I72SqVms/s1600/Crisalida.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QXDXvAXtJC4/Tv4C_tYOiQI/AAAAAAAAEoE/NY2I72SqVms/s1600/Crisalida.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Turbilhão de palavras&lt;br /&gt;
Sem asa querendo voar.&lt;br /&gt;
Palavras lagarta&lt;br /&gt;
Mastigam o que está à solta,&lt;br /&gt;
Crescem, engordam&lt;br /&gt;
E me consumem.&lt;br /&gt;
Não há mais volta.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Pego e embrulho,&lt;br /&gt;
Com jeito e no capricho.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Não conseguir empacotar&lt;br /&gt;
A tal palavra inquieta&lt;br /&gt;
Provoca grande estrago,&lt;br /&gt;
A morte do poema&lt;br /&gt;
Ou a loucura do poeta.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
O pacote se rompe.&lt;br /&gt;
É lei natural.&lt;br /&gt;
E há de ser na hora exata,&lt;br /&gt;
Para que não morra a palavra,&lt;br /&gt;
A borboleta, a crisálida.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Pausa.&lt;br /&gt;
A palavra quer sair.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Agora, desponta numa fenda&lt;br /&gt;
Pequeno pedaço de asa.&lt;br /&gt;
Descobre o mundo aqui fora,&lt;br /&gt;
As cores surgem,&lt;br /&gt;
A palavra se liberta,&lt;br /&gt;
O Aureliano chora.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;em&gt;Alexandre Spinelli&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Poema escrito a partir da crônica &lt;strong&gt;A Crisálida e o Aureliano&lt;/strong&gt;, de Jérsica Paes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://segredodecrisalida.blogspot.com/2008/03/crislida-e-o-aureliano.html"&gt;http://segredodecrisalida.blogspot.com/2008/03/crislida-e-o-aureliano.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9047186019162018345-1230044169913448250?l=sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-HsR67szZfozjd41vcHxBUlVJUM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-HsR67szZfozjd41vcHxBUlVJUM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~4/Ici5HE9jVC0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/feeds/1230044169913448250/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9047186019162018345&amp;postID=1230044169913448250" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/1230044169913448250?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/1230044169913448250?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~3/Ici5HE9jVC0/crislida-e-o-aureliano.html" title="A Crisálida e o Aureliano" /><author><name>Alexandre Spinelli</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/107601866441775535184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-O_YQ6bxp-oQ/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAErc/J1334p59Isg/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QXDXvAXtJC4/Tv4C_tYOiQI/AAAAAAAAEoE/NY2I72SqVms/s72-c/Crisalida.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/2008/10/crislida-e-o-aureliano.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkYDQH86cCp7ImA9WxRWEkU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9047186019162018345.post-1065477225075380834</id><published>2008-10-29T06:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T06:49:31.118-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-10-29T06:49:31.118-07:00</app:edited><title>Boa Noite</title><content type="html">Hoje quero te dar um beijo&lt;br /&gt;Só um beijo de boa noite&lt;br /&gt;Só um beijo na testa&lt;br /&gt;Um beijo delicado&lt;br /&gt;Boa noite de sono&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dorme em paz&lt;br /&gt;Nada vou te pedir&lt;br /&gt;Apenas te ver&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto dormes&lt;br /&gt;Doce e tranqüilo&lt;br /&gt;Sem máscaras&lt;br /&gt;Rosto e alma nus&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dorme hoje&lt;br /&gt;Barba só amanhã&lt;br /&gt;Agenda só amanhã&lt;br /&gt;Compromissos só amanhã&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dorme sono profundo&lt;br /&gt;O sono é boa cama&lt;br /&gt;Para os sonhos repousar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dorme e sonhe&lt;br /&gt;Quase amando uma menina&lt;br /&gt;Que queria te dar um beijo&lt;br /&gt;Pelas noites que virão&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dorme o sonho milagroso&lt;br /&gt;Entre um e outro&lt;br /&gt;Pode despertar o amanhã&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Alexandre Spinelli&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poema escrito a partir da crônica &lt;strong&gt;Um Beijo, Boa Noite&lt;/strong&gt;, de Cáh Morandi. &lt;a href="http://carinemorandi.blogspot.com/2008/10/um-beijo-boa-noite.html"&gt;http://carinemorandi.blogspot.com/2008/10/um-beijo-boa-noite.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9047186019162018345-1065477225075380834?l=sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/zuyiJAaSghAleu06yRmtLwBpLDQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/zuyiJAaSghAleu06yRmtLwBpLDQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/zuyiJAaSghAleu06yRmtLwBpLDQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/zuyiJAaSghAleu06yRmtLwBpLDQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~4/JqYGHiR51to" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/feeds/1065477225075380834/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9047186019162018345&amp;postID=1065477225075380834" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/1065477225075380834?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/1065477225075380834?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~3/JqYGHiR51to/boa-noite.html" title="Boa Noite" /><author><name>Alexandre Spinelli</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/107601866441775535184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-O_YQ6bxp-oQ/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAErc/J1334p59Isg/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/2008/10/boa-noite.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU4ARng8cSp7ImA9WhRQEEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9047186019162018345.post-4119617771774966515</id><published>2008-10-27T18:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-12-04T08:59:07.679-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-04T08:59:07.679-08:00</app:edited><title>Descobertas</title><content type="html">Ela descobriu&lt;br /&gt;
Descobriu que não precisava de olhar&lt;br /&gt;
Que não precisava de palavras&lt;br /&gt;
Não precisava de adeus&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Descobriu que dormiria bem sem beijo&lt;br /&gt;
Viveria feliz sem mãos dadas&lt;br /&gt;
Cresceria sem temer o tempo&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Descobriu que qualquer olhar valia&lt;br /&gt;
Qualquer sorriso lhe sorriria&lt;br /&gt;
Que solidão não se ia com qualquer companhia&lt;br /&gt;
E que não faz mal&lt;br /&gt;
Não se deve temê-la&lt;br /&gt;
Nem sofrer ao lembrar&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ela descobriu o pior&lt;br /&gt;
Que o descobrir traz tudo à vista&lt;br /&gt;
Mas só se vê o que se quer&lt;br /&gt;
Descobrir não é querer&lt;br /&gt;
Descobrir é amargo&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
E descobriu o melhor também&lt;br /&gt;
Descobriu que nada tem que ser agora&lt;br /&gt;
Que nem toda verdade descoberta&lt;br /&gt;
Tem que ser aceita e engolida&lt;br /&gt;
Algumas mentiras ainda confortam&lt;br /&gt;
Alguns sentimentos podem esperar&lt;br /&gt;
Cobertos por caramelo&lt;br /&gt;
Dados de presente&lt;br /&gt;
E podem ser doce&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Descobriu que descobrir é como ela&lt;br /&gt;
Às vezes, amargo&lt;br /&gt;
Às vezes, doce&lt;br /&gt;
Assim sentia um&lt;br /&gt;
Entregava o outro&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Assim ela morreu&lt;br /&gt;
Silêncio pela menina agridoce&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;em&gt;Alexandre Spinelli&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Poema escrito a partir da crônica &lt;strong&gt;Agridoce&lt;/strong&gt;, de Camilla Leonel.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://sentimentolices.blogspot.com/2008/10/agridoce_25.html" target="_blank"&gt;http://sentimentolices.blogspot.com/2008/10/agridoce_25.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9047186019162018345-4119617771774966515?l=sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0LCih117414zZp8wc68PgC7fQkg/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0LCih117414zZp8wc68PgC7fQkg/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0LCih117414zZp8wc68PgC7fQkg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0LCih117414zZp8wc68PgC7fQkg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~4/ldJ07OosyJE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/feeds/4119617771774966515/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9047186019162018345&amp;postID=4119617771774966515" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/4119617771774966515?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/4119617771774966515?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~3/ldJ07OosyJE/descobertas.html" title="Descobertas" /><author><name>Alexandre Spinelli</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/107601866441775535184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-O_YQ6bxp-oQ/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAErc/J1334p59Isg/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/2008/10/descobertas.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU4NQHw4cCp7ImA9WhRQEEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9047186019162018345.post-2713257321281138538</id><published>2008-10-27T09:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-12-04T08:59:51.238-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-04T08:59:51.238-08:00</app:edited><title>Lembro-me Bem</title><content type="html">I&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Lembro-me bem&lt;br /&gt;
Do seu olhar primeiro&lt;br /&gt;
De quando me olhou&lt;br /&gt;
Expressivo e cheio de cor&lt;br /&gt;
Som e desejo&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Do seu olhar distante&lt;br /&gt;
De quando me tocou&lt;br /&gt;
Sonho e dúvida&lt;br /&gt;
O benefício da novidade&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Do seu olhar no meu&lt;br /&gt;
De quando me encarou&lt;br /&gt;
Doce e peregrino&lt;br /&gt;
Meu coração disparou&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
II&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Nunca havia sido olhada assim&lt;br /&gt;
Ou não havia percebido&lt;br /&gt;
Nunca visto outras pupilas e retinas&lt;br /&gt;
Com tanta possibilidade de comunicação&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Contigo aprendi a olhar diferente&lt;br /&gt;
Com teu olhar, a ver melhor o mundo&lt;br /&gt;
As cores e texturas que se dão a ver&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
E do olhar eduquei os outros sentidos&lt;br /&gt;
Refinei minhas intenções&lt;br /&gt;
Ultrapassei a palavra e o gesto&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
E sigo pela vida com novos olhos&lt;br /&gt;
A olhar para dentro dos outros&lt;br /&gt;
A prever o mar que transborda&lt;br /&gt;
Na tentativa de alcançar o amor&lt;br /&gt;
Impossibilidade constante&lt;br /&gt;
Disponível em cada um&lt;br /&gt;
Pode ser hoje&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Alexandre Spinelli&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Poema escrito a partir da crônica &lt;b&gt;Um dia, uma carta qualquer...&lt;/b&gt;, de Flor de Bela Alma.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://flordebelalma.blogspot.com/2008/10/um-dia-uma-carta-qualquer.html" target="_blank"&gt;http://flordebelalma.blogspot.com/2008/10/um-dia-uma-carta-qualquer.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9047186019162018345-2713257321281138538?l=sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/RyA6rCyqHKUPq3377s0jt-fTswQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/RyA6rCyqHKUPq3377s0jt-fTswQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/RyA6rCyqHKUPq3377s0jt-fTswQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/RyA6rCyqHKUPq3377s0jt-fTswQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~4/xnPEF0zVOEo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/feeds/2713257321281138538/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9047186019162018345&amp;postID=2713257321281138538" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/2713257321281138538?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/2713257321281138538?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~3/xnPEF0zVOEo/lembro-me-bem.html" title="Lembro-me Bem" /><author><name>Alexandre Spinelli</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/107601866441775535184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-O_YQ6bxp-oQ/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAErc/J1334p59Isg/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/2008/10/lembro-me-bem.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkINSX08fip7ImA9WhRWEUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9047186019162018345.post-312186054066980140</id><published>2008-10-25T05:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-12-29T12:29:58.376-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-29T12:29:58.376-08:00</app:edited><title>Adeus, Milena</title><content type="html">Milena, doce Milena,&lt;br /&gt;
Fiz de ti minha musa,&lt;br /&gt;
Mas parei de pensar em ti.&lt;br /&gt;
Agora penso em mim,&lt;br /&gt;
Vôo sozinho.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U_9qA9x-tcI/TvzNfq73-xI/AAAAAAAAEn4/HZ20cxeHlB4/s1600/144158351_8dadee3c08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="232" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U_9qA9x-tcI/TvzNfq73-xI/AAAAAAAAEn4/HZ20cxeHlB4/s320/144158351_8dadee3c08.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Jogo fora o que sobrou&lt;br /&gt;
de todo amor disponível.&lt;br /&gt;
Jogo fora a pipoca&lt;br /&gt;
que não foi vendida.&lt;br /&gt;
Jogo fora o amor&lt;br /&gt;
para não comê-lo frio,&lt;br /&gt;
para não ficar com piruá.&lt;br /&gt;
Nada doído entre os dentes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Vou comprar um ilha, Milena.&lt;br /&gt;
Mesmo fora de época,&lt;br /&gt;
mesmo fora de estação,&lt;br /&gt;
mesmo sendo mais cara.&lt;br /&gt;
E me vou para essa ilha.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ficarei por lá um tempo&lt;br /&gt;
até ser alegre novamente.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Andarei descalço.&lt;br /&gt;
Escreverei poemas.&lt;br /&gt;
Beberei sozinho do meu vinho.&lt;br /&gt;
Farei casa e pintarei de vermelho.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Talvez nem mande notícias, Milena.&lt;br /&gt;
Só escreverei poemas.&lt;br /&gt;
Quaisquer, não importa.&lt;br /&gt;
Poemas que falem do futuro,&lt;br /&gt;
poemas que falem de saudade,&lt;br /&gt;
da saudade de um futuro, quem sabe.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Talvez, Milena, um dia mudes.&lt;br /&gt;
Um dia me chames,&lt;br /&gt;
um dia me aprendas,&lt;br /&gt;
um dia conjugue-me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Milena, pobre Milena,&lt;br /&gt;
adeus, moça bonita!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Alexandre Spinelli&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Poema escrito a partir da crônica &lt;b&gt;Pranto que vale uma ilha&lt;/b&gt;, de Camilla Leonel.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://sentimentolices.blogspot.com/2008/10/pranto-que-vale-uma-ilha.html" target="_blank"&gt;http://sentimentolices.blogspot.com/2008/10/pranto-que-vale-uma-ilha.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9047186019162018345-312186054066980140?l=sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ljnRfnE3ObUEtSrVL8ChdV6cH9s/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ljnRfnE3ObUEtSrVL8ChdV6cH9s/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ljnRfnE3ObUEtSrVL8ChdV6cH9s/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ljnRfnE3ObUEtSrVL8ChdV6cH9s/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~4/tPfEOYFT4BI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/feeds/312186054066980140/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9047186019162018345&amp;postID=312186054066980140" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/312186054066980140?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/312186054066980140?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~3/tPfEOYFT4BI/adeus-milena.html" title="Adeus, Milena" /><author><name>Alexandre Spinelli</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/107601866441775535184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-O_YQ6bxp-oQ/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAErc/J1334p59Isg/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U_9qA9x-tcI/TvzNfq73-xI/AAAAAAAAEn4/HZ20cxeHlB4/s72-c/144158351_8dadee3c08.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/2008/10/adeus-milena.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUIGQ38_eSp7ImA9WhRWEEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9047186019162018345.post-7357652290575481287</id><published>2008-10-25T05:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-12-28T09:32:02.141-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-28T09:32:02.141-08:00</app:edited><title>Foi Assim</title><content type="html">Foi assim&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rjw81bHqqSw/TDFVhfmRbzI/AAAAAAAAAOc/76KqvKz-2aQ/s1600/thirdman-425x316%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="237" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rjw81bHqqSw/TDFVhfmRbzI/AAAAAAAAAOc/76KqvKz-2aQ/s320/thirdman-425x316%5B1%5D.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Partiu meu amor&lt;br /&gt;
Decidiu me abandonar&lt;br /&gt;
Deixou-me as vistas escuras&lt;br /&gt;
Levou-me o olhar&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Foi assim&lt;br /&gt;
Dormi sem sonhos&lt;br /&gt;
Acordei fora da hora&lt;br /&gt;
Um sono veloz&lt;br /&gt;
Levou-me num sopro&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Foi assim&lt;br /&gt;
Acordei sem sorte&lt;br /&gt;
Bati na quina do criado&lt;br /&gt;
Chutei o pé do sofá&lt;br /&gt;
Levou-me o espaço&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Foi assim&lt;br /&gt;
Cinema preto-e-branco&lt;br /&gt;
Não há mais fotos&lt;br /&gt;
Não há mais filme&lt;br /&gt;
Levou-me a cor&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Foi assim&lt;br /&gt;
Não sei o que se deu&lt;br /&gt;
Fiquei sem música&lt;br /&gt;
Fiquei no silencio&lt;br /&gt;
Levou-me as notas&lt;br /&gt;
Levou-me as rimas&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Foi assim&lt;br /&gt;
Coração já não bate&lt;br /&gt;
Está sozinho no seu lugar&lt;br /&gt;
Sozinho no deserto&lt;br /&gt;
Levou-me. Desertei.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Alexandre Spinelli&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Poema escrito a partir da crônica &lt;b&gt;Piedade&lt;/b&gt;, de Camilla Leonel.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://sentimentolices.blogspot.com/2008/09/piedade.html" target="_blank"&gt;http://sentimentolices.blogspot.com/2008/09/piedade.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9047186019162018345-7357652290575481287?l=sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BnVNP7spaiKUodmceRuIZLbAuqQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BnVNP7spaiKUodmceRuIZLbAuqQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BnVNP7spaiKUodmceRuIZLbAuqQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BnVNP7spaiKUodmceRuIZLbAuqQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~4/fFvZDog2QuE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/feeds/7357652290575481287/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9047186019162018345&amp;postID=7357652290575481287" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/7357652290575481287?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/7357652290575481287?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~3/fFvZDog2QuE/foi-assim.html" title="Foi Assim" /><author><name>Alexandre Spinelli</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/107601866441775535184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-O_YQ6bxp-oQ/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAErc/J1334p59Isg/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rjw81bHqqSw/TDFVhfmRbzI/AAAAAAAAAOc/76KqvKz-2aQ/s72-c/thirdman-425x316%5B1%5D.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/2008/10/foi-assim.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkMCRXs4eyp7ImA9WxRXGEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9047186019162018345.post-5942768125546364797</id><published>2008-10-24T11:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-24T11:54:24.533-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-10-24T11:54:24.533-07:00</app:edited><title>Deixe, mas não deixe</title><content type="html">Hoje eu acordei canhota&lt;br /&gt;E te peço que me deixe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deixe que não te ame&lt;br /&gt;Deixe que te ame&lt;br /&gt;Deixe-me feliz ao teu lado&lt;br /&gt;Deixe-me não querer o teu lado&lt;br /&gt;Deixe-me aceitar&lt;br /&gt;Deixe-me não entender&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deixe que te queira novamente&lt;br /&gt;Onde não estiveste&lt;br /&gt;Onde não estás&lt;br /&gt;Onde não estarás&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deixe que te queira&lt;br /&gt;Cobertor e neve&lt;br /&gt;Deixe&lt;br /&gt;Não te quero pedras&lt;br /&gt;Só te quero flores&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nossa sombra já não se faz uma&lt;br /&gt;Então deixe que te peça&lt;br /&gt;Só hoje&lt;br /&gt;Hoje que acordei canhota&lt;br /&gt;Hoje que é primavera&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não me deixe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Alexandre Spinelli&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Poema escrito a partir da crônica &lt;strong&gt;Primavera para canhotos&lt;/strong&gt;, de Camilla Leonel.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://sentimentolices.blogspot.com/2008/10/primavera-para-canhotos.html" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;em&gt;http://sentimentolices.blogspot.com/2008/10/primavera-para-canhotos.html&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9047186019162018345-5942768125546364797?l=sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Gbky27s3IO4VF1w3Vuc_6sV7dxE/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Gbky27s3IO4VF1w3Vuc_6sV7dxE/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Gbky27s3IO4VF1w3Vuc_6sV7dxE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Gbky27s3IO4VF1w3Vuc_6sV7dxE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~4/DNwZvwnE4Ag" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/feeds/5942768125546364797/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9047186019162018345&amp;postID=5942768125546364797" title="0 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/5942768125546364797?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/5942768125546364797?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~3/DNwZvwnE4Ag/deixe-mas-no-deixe.html" title="Deixe, mas não deixe" /><author><name>Alexandre Spinelli</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/107601866441775535184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-O_YQ6bxp-oQ/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAErc/J1334p59Isg/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/2008/10/deixe-mas-no-deixe.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkUBQX06fyp7ImA9WxRXGEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9047186019162018345.post-2105915175969118601</id><published>2008-10-24T11:50:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-24T11:50:50.317-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-10-24T11:50:50.317-07:00</app:edited><title>Escrever Eu Faço Bem</title><content type="html">Hoje me sinto só&lt;br /&gt;Como nunca me senti&lt;br /&gt;Como no dia em que minha mãe partiu&lt;br /&gt;Como no dia em que ela voltou&lt;br /&gt;Como no dia em que descobri&lt;br /&gt;Que nem sempre os outros voltam&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tornar-se é o verbo&lt;br /&gt;Tornar-se importante&lt;br /&gt;Tornar-se ninguém&lt;br /&gt;Tornar-se folha seca&lt;br /&gt;Pisada com desdém&lt;br /&gt;Impossível de impedir&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amar é o fim&lt;br /&gt;Amar é o suficiente&lt;br /&gt;Impossível ser pelos dois&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Escrever eu faço bem&lt;br /&gt;O que não faço bem é esquecer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Alexandre Spinelli&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Poema escrito a partir da crônica &lt;strong&gt;Morar-te&lt;/strong&gt;, de Camilla Leonel.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://sentimentolices.blogspot.com/2008/10/morar-te.html" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;em&gt;http://sentimentolices.blogspot.com/2008/10/morar-te.html&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9047186019162018345-2105915175969118601?l=sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/23Hh044WoMr775xs35pFlNPY9Eo/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/23Hh044WoMr775xs35pFlNPY9Eo/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~4/kFthHYga8Rg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/feeds/2105915175969118601/comments/default" title="Postar comentários" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9047186019162018345&amp;postID=2105915175969118601" title="1 Comentários" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/2105915175969118601?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9047186019162018345/posts/default/2105915175969118601?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/SentimentosParalelos/~3/kFthHYga8Rg/escrever-eu-fao-bem_24.html" title="Escrever Eu Faço Bem" /><author><name>Alexandre Spinelli</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/107601866441775535184</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-O_YQ6bxp-oQ/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAErc/J1334p59Isg/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sentimentosparalelos.blogspot.com/2008/10/escrever-eu-fao-bem_24.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

