________________________________


Comecei a escrever no momento em que percebi que só pensar não mais me satisfazia.

Precisava transbordar todo aquele pensamento que só ao meu universo de idéias pertencia.

Hoje, escrevo por pura necessidade, por irresistível vício e por agradável teimosia.




Claudia Pinelli Rêgo Fernandes ®



segunda-feira, junho 28, 2010

Pieces of love




"I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving

but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close."

Pablo Neruda





“Have you ever been in love?

Horrible isn't it?

It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up.

You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...

You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore.

Love takes hostages.

It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart.

It hurts.

Not just in the imagination.

Not just in the mind.

It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain.

I hate love.”

Neil Gaiman



"I love you not only for what you are,
but for what I am when I am with you.

I love you not only for what you have made of yourself,
but for what you are making of me.

I love you for the part of me that you bring out.”


Roy Croft



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Prosaicos Poemas

Um comentário:

Edson Marques disse...

Em 09/03/2007 você publicou este meu poema:

Se não for agora - quando?

Não diga que é muito cedo, nem que é muito tarde,
ou que está escuro, é perigoso, muito alto, muito fundo, muito longe...

Não!

Se você não compreende o entusiasmo das escolhas que eu faço;
Se você não pode respeitar minhas loucuras e delícias;
se você não consegue me empurrar com amor e doçura para o miolo da Vida,
— não me segure, não me prenda, não me amarre.

Não tente me salvar de coisa alguma.
Não me afaste do que mais preciso.

Você tem a opção de testemunhar uma bela transformação,
ou de apenas fechar os olhos e dizer não.

Porque agora — agora é hora de voar,
é hora de abrir-me a todas as possibilidades.

Estou partindo em vôo livre para dentro de mim!



Vim agora emprestá-lo de você. Vou republicá-lo nesta versão.
Abraços,

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My kind of Spirit...


You are the elusive Night Spirit.
Your season is Winter, when the stars are bright and frost crystallizes the fallen leaves.
You are introspective, deep-thinking, and mysterious.
Everyone is intrigued and a little intimidated by you because you have an aura of otherworldliness.
You work in extremes, sometime happy, other times sad, but always creative and philosophical.
You are more concerned with the unseen, mystical, and metaphysical than the real world.
Night Spirits have a tendency to get lost in themselves and must be careful not to forget reality, but their imagination is limitless.