tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73862716330832415562012-01-30T03:56:06.510-08:00Liza Lealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07374442373615103970noreply@blogger.comBlogger261100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7386271633083241556.post-86289335069278050852012-01-22T05:03:00.000-08:002012-01-28T04:46:05.019-08:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z_nj9Ik1GH8/Tx6zJRimniI/AAAAAAAABK0/IcsLXcYpe_M/s1600/MOA_JE%257E1.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 213px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701191150206361122" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z_nj9Ik1GH8/Tx6zJRimniI/AAAAAAAABK0/IcsLXcYpe_M/s320/MOA_JE%257E1.JPG" /></a> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /><div align="left"></div><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:+0;"> <br /><div align="right"> <br /></span></div></span><span><span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#333399;"><strong>Lá vai <br />A criatura... <br />Com seu jeans surrado <br />Perfeita aderência <br />E seus rasgos <br />Linhas e pele de jambo <br />Á solta <br />Pro que der e vier... <br />Repirando a fotossíntese <br />Das folhas dos dias <br />Rompendo muros <br />Rasgando agonias <br />Com sabor de vinho tinto <br />Grudado na língua <br />Lá vai a menina <br />Com seu jeans desbotado <br />Sem pretensa idade <br />Altura... Nome... <br />OU coisa assim <br /></strong></span></span></span> <br /></span><span><span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#333399;"><strong> <br /><span style="font-size:78%;">By L. Leal <br /> <br /></span></strong></span></span></span><span><span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#333399;"><strong><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></strong></span></span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7386271633083241556-8628933506927805085?l=lizzaleal.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Liza Lealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07374442373615103970noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7386271633083241556.post-81151138430515063542012-01-08T05:25:00.000-08:002012-01-08T06:40:12.090-08:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4MB1kzjr2vA/TwmpTxhukUI/AAAAAAAABKQ/vnbwqrdxu48/s1600/250347_105143329586225_104866626280562_21365_5981564_n.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 359px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 265px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695269360964112706" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4MB1kzjr2vA/TwmpTxhukUI/AAAAAAAABKQ/vnbwqrdxu48/s320/250347_105143329586225_104866626280562_21365_5981564_n.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div><br /><div><br /><div></div><br /><div><br /><br /><div><span><span><span style="color:#660000;"><strong>Imagina<br />Se posso ter<br />Algum sentimento estranho<br />Por voce!..<br />No mínimo, eu digo<br />Que oscila entre<br />Agri-doce...<br />Picante...<br />Viciante...<br />Que toma de assalto<br />Ainda que calada,<br />A lingua,<br />E nos outros sentidos<br />Uma espécie<br />De distinto alvoroço<br />Em forma de arrepios...<br />Está pra nascer<br />Essa amnésia<br />Quando digo a mim mesma<br />Que vou te esquecer<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">by Liza Leal<br /><br /></span></strong></span></span></span></div></div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7386271633083241556-8115113843051506354?l=lizzaleal.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Liza Lealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07374442373615103970noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7386271633083241556.post-54236428101623239622011-11-04T05:21:00.000-07:002011-11-04T06:10:41.694-07:00<div align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WCdDgkrb90I/TrPjB9gN8_I/AAAAAAAABFg/B9snawZ2AJs/s1600/tumblr_llbgarZIFv1qbaubro1_500.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 306px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671125978618655730" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WCdDgkrb90I/TrPjB9gN8_I/AAAAAAAABFg/B9snawZ2AJs/s320/tumblr_llbgarZIFv1qbaubro1_500.jpg" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:+0;"><br /></span><span><span><span style="color:#996633;"><strong>Somos casas...<br />Templos falantes<br />Que abrigam...<br />Causam...<br />E até curam feridas<br />Entre projetos e sonhos<br />Densas tempestades<br />Imploramos que a chuva<br />Mate apenas a sede<br />Das sementes mais raras<br />Tão carinhosamente plantadas<br />Em nosso jardim<br />Por vezes queremos<br />Que o sol adentre a janela do quarto<br />E aqueça o leito de nossas Almas<br /><br /><br />Somos luau e ressaca<br />Inverno e primavera<br />Criança e saudade<br />Poço de desejos<br />Lago de ternura<br />Mar de paixões<br />Guardamos segredos<br />Como algumas paredes<br />Guardam<br />Suas inconfessáveis...<br />Minúsculas<br />Infiltrações<br /><br /></strong></span></span><span style="font-size:+0;"><span style="color:#996633;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#996633;"><strong><span style="font-size:78%;">by LiZa Leal<br /></span><br /></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7386271633083241556-5423642810162323962?l=lizzaleal.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Liza Lealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07374442373615103970noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7386271633083241556.post-75545285429552313452011-09-23T07:20:00.000-07:002011-09-29T15:56:29.178-07:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EOSmnMw1iDw/ToSt4JNQxsI/AAAAAAAABD8/aYvORimBbDI/s1600/2827241613_e512f6c0ce.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 206px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657838211940009666" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EOSmnMw1iDw/ToSt4JNQxsI/AAAAAAAABD8/aYvORimBbDI/s320/2827241613_e512f6c0ce.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span><span><span style="color:#ff6600;"><strong>Ducha gelada<br />Depois de um mergulho<br />No mar morno<br />Nordestino<br />Colo que acolhe<br />Violão mudo<br />No canto da sala<br /></strong></span><span style="color:#6666cc;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>E o canto<br />Des trancado<br />Que principia<br /></strong><br /></span><br /></span><span style="color:#ff6600;"><strong>Taça de vinho tinto<br />Cowboy... (No frio)<br />Sabor de coisa apaziguada<br /></strong></span><span style="font-size:85%;color:#6666cc;"><strong>Por do sol num porto lúdico<br />Sinal de vida<br />De um querer bem...<br /></strong></span><span style="color:#ff6600;"><strong>É tinta vibrante nos dias...<br />Gargalhada que silencia<br />No peito...<br />Desconcerto no fôlego<br />Que alivia<br />A lida doida<br />Da vida</strong> </span></span></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span><span><span style="color:#ff6600;"><strong>De alguém<br /><br /><br /></strong></span><br /><span style="color:#ff6666;"><span style="font-size:78%;">by L.L.</span><br /><br /></span></div></span></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7386271633083241556-7554528542955231345?l=lizzaleal.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Liza Lealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07374442373615103970noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7386271633083241556.post-4358136104554603122011-08-26T06:59:00.000-07:002011-09-20T14:24:24.994-07:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wmv3CLsRHnY/TlfxExCJvWI/AAAAAAAABBU/Va_g7KJ2YJQ/s1600/MULHER%257E2.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 364px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 250px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645245722116341090" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wmv3CLsRHnY/TlfxExCJvWI/AAAAAAAABBU/Va_g7KJ2YJQ/s320/MULHER%257E2.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><div align="left"><span><span style="color:#cc0000;"><strong>Finjo que vou...<br />Mas não vou<br />E quando menos esperar<br />Aí é que estou<br />Quanto mais duvidar<br />Aí é que "soul"<br /><br />E quanto mais escuro for<br />Com meu candeeiro<br />Tateio... Me esgueiro...<br />Na trilha que o brilho da Lua<br />Adentrar<br />So não vou esmiuçar<br />Servir mastigada,<br />A pimenta da rima<br />A todo e qualquer sal<br />Mas... Há de arder...<br />Sei que vai!...<br /><br />by L.Leal</strong></span></span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7386271633083241556-435813610455460312?l=lizzaleal.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Liza Lealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07374442373615103970noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7386271633083241556.post-43363629017410836072011-06-29T17:02:00.000-07:002011-06-30T10:47:06.326-07:00<div align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8y2Lr2iwmJ4/Tgx68Blwc_I/AAAAAAAAA_s/bFFJ_uVDuzA/s1600/446287719_8f97006500_o.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 435px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 294px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624005206316446706" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8y2Lr2iwmJ4/Tgx68Blwc_I/AAAAAAAAA_s/bFFJ_uVDuzA/s320/446287719_8f97006500_o.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><span><span><span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#330033;"><strong>Que espécie<br />De rastro é esse<br />Que se move<br />Brilha, ofusca<br />Esconde, se mostra<br />Ostenta um QUÊ<br />Como quem diz:<br />Existo<br />Mesmo mudo<br />Me ajeito<br />E o resto<br />É com você!...<br /><br />Que raio<br />De pingente reluzente<br />Dançante no colo<br />Duvido que seja jóia,<br />E como se não bastasse<br />Na espinha dorsal<br />Um eco se instala<br />Causando desconserto<br />Na fala<br />E se não for<br />...<br />Que nome de batismo<br />Darei!?...<br /><br /></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;color:#663366;">By LiZa Leal<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:0;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color:#330033;"><span style="font-size:+0;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span></span></strong></span></span></span></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="color:#ffccff;"><strong></strong></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7386271633083241556-4336362901741083607?l=lizzaleal.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Liza Lealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07374442373615103970noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7386271633083241556.post-81683156698451081162011-06-14T06:05:00.000-07:002011-06-14T06:33:18.885-07:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fqiEALB3ywA/Tfdexgwh5BI/AAAAAAAAA_M/ka9nzmVbkiY/s1600/personalizar-formulario-comentarios-blogger.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618063264868066322" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fqiEALB3ywA/Tfdexgwh5BI/AAAAAAAAA_M/ka9nzmVbkiY/s320/personalizar-formulario-comentarios-blogger.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><span><strong><span style="color:#660000;">Cale a boca, pensamento!<br />Ou lhe trucido...<br />Tapo todos os orifícios<br />Do caminho moreno<br />Que lhe filtra<br />Não se adentre, não reinvente<br />Não insista com a bendita vitrola<br />Dos seus caprichos e lamentos...<br />Por gentileza,<br />Silêncio,<br />Senhor pensamento!<br />Deixe um branco<br />Pairar na mente<br />Não dê um passo sequer<br />Além da mente<br />Ou juro que cometo<br />Uma loucura<br />Nesse exato momento<br /></span></strong><br /><br /><br /></span><strong><span style="color:#993300;"><br /><span style="font-size:78%;color:#660000;">by LiZa Leal<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><br /></div></strong></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7386271633083241556-8168315669845108116?l=lizzaleal.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Liza Lealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07374442373615103970noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7386271633083241556.post-70692941368296193222011-06-02T05:12:00.000-07:002011-06-02T05:23:19.554-07:00<div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nRFTdeqRKHs/Ted_urXIamI/AAAAAAAAA-o/oTTiqOwkI-8/s1600/guitarrista.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 180px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613595900431067746" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nRFTdeqRKHs/Ted_urXIamI/AAAAAAAAA-o/oTTiqOwkI-8/s320/guitarrista.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div align="center"><span><span><span><span style="color:#990000;"><strong><span>Esse jeito<br />Descolado<br />Transviado<br />Vivido<br />Esse olhar<br />De ressaca<br />Essa pose<br />De vira-lata<br />Safo<br />Lúdico<br />Indomável...<br />O vento que<br />Lhe doma<br />Com cheiro de coragem<br />Descompromissada<br />Nasce da briza<br />Que traz<br />Com perfeita intensidade<br />Uma forte balada<br />...<br />Inebria<br />Desarma</span></strong></span></span></span></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span><span><span><span style="color:#990000;"><strong><span>Fascina<br />Prende<br />De cara<br /><br /></div></span></strong></span></span></span></span><span><span><span></span></span></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7386271633083241556-7069294136829619322?l=lizzaleal.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Liza Lealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07374442373615103970noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7386271633083241556.post-70134160801093670842011-05-25T06:38:00.000-07:002011-05-25T07:37:47.506-07:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MD7VDRjRT8Q/Td0UEcVK1RI/AAAAAAAAA94/xyfxY4T-e-E/s1600/relaxantes-mg-20091002.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610662777330521362" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MD7VDRjRT8Q/Td0UEcVK1RI/AAAAAAAAA94/xyfxY4T-e-E/s320/relaxantes-mg-20091002.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Xv9JouSjHI8/Td0Tt1EyP8I/AAAAAAAAA9w/yXC-aw4yfo0/s1600/ESTA-9%255B1%255D.JPG"></a><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><div><span style="color:#6666cc;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#6666cc;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#6666cc;"></span></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#330000;">As vezes<br />É preciso<br />Se fazer de ponte<br />Se fingir de torre<br />Sombra<br />Com cores de ipê<br />Assistir<br />O deslizar<br />Do rio da vida<br />Sobreviver<br /><br />Tem dias<br />Que seu EU<br />Necessita<br />Hibernar<br />Aquecer-se<br />No abrigo<br />Mais íntimo<br />De sua rede<br />E de olhos fechados<br />Ouvir o som do mundo<br />Com seu próprio volume<br />Sem nada dizer<br /><br /><br /></span></strong><br /></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:78%;color:#663300;">by LizA Leal</span></strong></div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7386271633083241556-7013416080109367084?l=lizzaleal.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Liza Lealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07374442373615103970noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7386271633083241556.post-13616754235665027872011-04-28T07:07:00.000-07:002011-04-28T13:56:17.885-07:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-X_kGHtrwZHI/TbnD2RREhSI/AAAAAAAAA8g/-34SZTB7GhU/s1600/mulher%2Bpulando.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 318px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600722948727276834" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-X_kGHtrwZHI/TbnD2RREhSI/AAAAAAAAA8g/-34SZTB7GhU/s320/mulher%2Bpulando.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span><span><span><span style="color:#666666;"><strong><span style="color:#333300;">No mundo da Lua, Eu?!...<br />As estrelas são testemunhas<br />Que lá jamais pisei<br />E o olhar perdido,<br />Confesso...<br />Este sim,<br />Vez em quando<br />Adentra um refúgio<br />Quase nada secreto<br />Onde a porta fica sempre entreaberta<br />Para o momento desnudo deitar... E rolar<br />E as letras saltitantes<br />Deixem rastros de purpurina,<br />Brindem, brinquem...<br />Lavem a alma<br />Chorem de rir<br />Ou chorem por chorar<br />Por onde ando...<br />É fácil me achar!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />by LiZa Leal<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span><br /><br /><br /></strong></span></span></span></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7386271633083241556-1361675423566502787?l=lizzaleal.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Liza Lealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07374442373615103970noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7386271633083241556.post-87346996014029529352011-04-16T14:55:00.000-07:002011-04-16T16:04:33.360-07:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Drgj9UdblP8/TaoRjrK47PI/AAAAAAAAA7o/sElxxDj_6vM/s1600/untitled.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 321px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 208px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5596304791542754546" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Drgj9UdblP8/TaoRjrK47PI/AAAAAAAAA7o/sElxxDj_6vM/s320/untitled.bmp" /></a> <br /><div></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">Noite dessas tive um presente, d</span><span style="color:#993300;"><span style="font-size:130%;">esses que ficam n</span><span style="font-size:130%;">a mente:</span></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">Um cantor da noite, a</span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">migo de outros carnavais,</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">Simplicidade</span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"> rara t</span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">al qual sua garganta de ouro, pra</span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"> ninguém duvidar</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">Deu um "break" e</span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"> com seu riso largo </span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">Matuto </span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">Cativante</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">Deu o ar de sua graça "marrenta"... </span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">Veio então comigo sentar</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">Dividir sua energia... </span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">Contar de sua lida, sua labuta</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">Seu meio século vivido, sua</span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"> filha mais nova que </span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">nem meio ano tem...</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">Sua futura patroa, 22 anos de vida, s</span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">eu relógio que o chama as 5... </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">Para o trabalho da ordenha.. Amém! </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">De tudo, um pouco: d</span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">as chances de riqueza no ramo da música, que</span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"> ficaram para trás </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">E </span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">da fortuna que não troca, d</span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">aquela que zela pra</span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"> não faltar.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">No rosto e nas mãos a</span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">s marcas do tempo, que não da pra duvidar</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">Chamou-me então com jeito p</span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">ara subir ao palco, e</span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"> com ele cantar</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">Dividi nessa noite: </span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">A mesma lua, </span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">A mesma mesa... </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">O mesmo microfone e decididamente</span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"> a certeza</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"><span style="font-size:100%;color:#000000;"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">De um grande artista VIVO... E seu sucesso impagável...</span></span></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;">Uma lição a mais!</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"></span></div><span style="font-size:78%;color:#993300;"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error"></span></span><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"></span></div><span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: #ffff00;color:#993300;" ></span><span style="font-size:78%;color:#993300;">by LiZa Leal </span><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7386271633083241556-8734699601402952935?l=lizzaleal.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Liza Lealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07374442373615103970noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7386271633083241556.post-22286202085619058622011-04-12T06:07:00.000-07:002011-04-12T07:00:36.634-07:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L8c0iKavHsE/TaRatM9w9HI/AAAAAAAAA5I/lfH50icF-K0/s1600/Malandro3.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 210px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594696369721898098" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L8c0iKavHsE/TaRatM9w9HI/AAAAAAAAA5I/lfH50icF-K0/s320/Malandro3.jpg" /></a> <br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qKO6l6pkp8M/TaRZIVlAsBI/AAAAAAAAA5A/A3wxmiZmDNc/s1600/malandro.jpg"></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#c0c0c0;"><strong></strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#c0c0c0;"><strong></strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;">Como está indo</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;">Aquilo que sente</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;">Acredita?...</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;">Aquele sonho</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;">Que não dançou</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;">Mas atravessa a</span></strong><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;"> corda bamba</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;">Na manha</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;">Graças ao jogo d</span></strong><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;">e cintura</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;">E a fina flor</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;">Da malandragem</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;">Camuflada</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;">Tem sentido na pele</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;">O cruciante punhal</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;">Das provas</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;">E por puro instinto</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;">SEgura a onda</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;">Se arranha, </span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;">Se ajeita</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;">E nem se vira do avesso</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;">Para arrancar</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;">Com jeito...</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;">Teu riso largo</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;">Genuíno?!</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;color:#663366;"><strong>by LiZa Leal</strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#c0c0c0;"><strong></strong></span></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7386271633083241556-2228620208561905862?l=lizzaleal.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Liza Lealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07374442373615103970noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7386271633083241556.post-55576789142520592242011-02-22T05:48:00.000-08:002011-02-22T05:56:55.960-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tHasKoWPbcU/TWPAiyUrXpI/AAAAAAAAA3E/7R3JUAhl9PY/s1600/1248900723859_f.jpg"><br /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LI9JwbC2Bg0/TWPABS5KZkI/AAAAAAAAA28/IosXRzcjOf4/s1600/1248900723859_f.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LI9JwbC2Bg0/TWPABS5KZkI/AAAAAAAAA28/IosXRzcjOf4/s320/1248900723859_f.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576511892098803266" border="0" /></a><strong></strong><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);">Sem meias<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span><div> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);">Sem meias palavras<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);">Descalça<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);">Chão frio</span></strong></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);">As mãos traduzem</span></strong></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);">De fato</span></strong></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);">A doçura</span></strong></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);">Que a saliva<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);">Da língua<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);">Não fala<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);">Nem cala<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);">A riqueza <o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);">Que o silêncio<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);">Convida...<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);">Te embala,<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);">Sem truques,<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);">Sem cortes...<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);">Sem roubos<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);">Sem nada<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);"><o:p> </o:p></span></strong></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);"><br /></span></strong></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> <strong><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);"><o:p></o:p></span></strong></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="font-size:78%;">by Liza Leal</span></strong><o:p></o:p></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7386271633083241556-5557678914252059224?l=lizzaleal.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Liza Lealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07374442373615103970noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7386271633083241556.post-55757065370890054682011-02-14T04:54:00.000-08:002011-04-07T15:24:03.127-07:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b46biDVjROk/TVkm0bOZlCI/AAAAAAAAA20/fgNkLIu4QB8/s1600/Parte-do-rosto-de-uma-mulher-cantando-num-microfone-antigo_01.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 295px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573528695950906402" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b46biDVjROk/TVkm0bOZlCI/AAAAAAAAA20/fgNkLIu4QB8/s320/Parte-do-rosto-de-uma-mulher-cantando-num-microfone-antigo_01.jpg" /></a> <br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#663366;">E quando quiser Um sopro certeiro Na ferida causada Pela lida doida Da vida E quando a melodia Puder adentrar "Soft and strong" Nos teus ouvidos E quando as letras Caírem como sementes No solo fértil Dos teus sentidos E quando o fruto Colhido Tiver um sabor </span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#663366;">Quase eterno... Feito prece Atendida... </span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#663366;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#663366;">Quem sabe os olhos</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#663366;">Se fechem</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#663366;">Num misto</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#663366;">De canto e riso</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#663366;">Comemorando assim</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#663366;">Com música</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#663366;">De pulso...</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#663366;">E fibra</span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#663366;"><span style="font-size:78%;">by LiZa Leal</span> </span></strong></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7386271633083241556-5575706537089005468?l=lizzaleal.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Liza Lealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07374442373615103970noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7386271633083241556.post-58988035739252391042010-12-08T05:13:00.000-08:002010-12-08T10:43:55.963-08:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IgEs481zgh8/TP_PWsD1HqI/AAAAAAAAAzI/Plt1MxH5Xbw/s1600/4943paixao.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548381254635036322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IgEs481zgh8/TP_PWsD1HqI/AAAAAAAAAzI/Plt1MxH5Xbw/s320/4943paixao.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="color:#660000;"><strong>Eita! Percussão<br />Desritmada<br />Incompreensivel<br />Desatinada<br />Vai, coração moleque,<br />Desenfreado!<br />Sei... Não é pretensão,<br />Loucura<br />Ou coisa assim<br />Essa verdade<br />Quem manda o recado<br />É o pulso<br />O sangue</strong></span></div><div><span style="color:#660000;"><strong>Na rodovia das vêias<br />O comando vital<br />Que lembra<br />Malandragem,<br />Samba no pé...<br />É a batida da VIDA<br />Num sorriso<br />Guardado a 7 chaves<br />Numa CABANA inesquecivel<br />Da "Ilha Sentir"</strong></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7386271633083241556-5898803573925239104?l=lizzaleal.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Liza Lealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07374442373615103970noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7386271633083241556.post-62496633434561737622010-11-18T03:36:00.000-08:002010-11-21T03:26:47.219-08:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IgEs481zgh8/TOUXo0DYujI/AAAAAAAAAyU/yMwlieclGFc/s1600/DSC00210.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540860906484316722" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IgEs481zgh8/TOUXo0DYujI/AAAAAAAAAyU/yMwlieclGFc/s320/DSC00210.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div><br /><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">No topo...<br /></span><span style="color:#ffffff;">Um floco de algodão</span></strong></div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">Sobre um amontoado de nuvens...<br />Um nada no mundo<br />Ao mesmo tempo<br />Centelha de luz<br />As asas que vejo e sinto<br />Extensão daquilo<br />Que de profundo<br />E bendito<br />Cá existe...<br />São mais que asas<br />Metálicas<br />E imaginarias...<br />Isso que agora me invade<br />É um viver bem mais<br />Que – acima do solo<br />É uma prece sem nada dizer...<br />Em que o mais caro preço<br />É o de estar vivo<br />No desafio de um vôo<br />Que me desliga do chão</span></strong></div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">E me leva aos céus... </span></strong></div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#ffffff;"></span></strong> </div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">L.L.</span></strong></div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#ffffff;"></span></strong> </div><strong><span style="color:#ffffff;"></span></strong></div><strong><span style="color:#ffffff;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ffffff;"><div align="left"><span style="font-size:78%;">(foto tirada na viajem p/Natal-RN)</span><br /></div></span></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7386271633083241556-6249663343456173762?l=lizzaleal.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Liza Lealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07374442373615103970noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7386271633083241556.post-65834706936713997262010-10-16T05:16:00.000-07:002011-03-18T07:09:29.121-07:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IgEs481zgh8/TLmibK8btcI/AAAAAAAAAxI/6JlIsLo5Bc8/s1600/MaosDadasComFlor.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 262px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528628605251990978" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IgEs481zgh8/TLmibK8btcI/AAAAAAAAAxI/6JlIsLo5Bc8/s320/MaosDadasComFlor.jpg" /></a><br /><div><span style="color:#000066;"><strong>A fúria q</strong><strong>ue mais lhe combina</strong></span></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;">E tanto lhe cai bem,</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;">Com meu olho clínico</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;"></span></strong></div><div><span style="color:#000066;"><strong>Enxergo, l</strong><strong>he digo</strong></span></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;">Sem nenhum vacilo...</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;">É essa, que seus passos</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;">Vigorosos e brandos</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;">Determinam </span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;">Trazendo cores</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;">Que fazem a diferença</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;">Na minha</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;">Na tua vida</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;">Bem vindos:</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;">A folia</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;">O aconchego</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;">O desalinho</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;">E que as peças </span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;">Latentes... Lindas</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;">Se encontrem</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;">Feito fogo e vela</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;">Riso nos lábios</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;">Chuva no rio...</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;"></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:78%;color:#000066;"><strong>(by Liza Leal)</strong></span></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#000066;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ffcccc;"><strong></strong></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7386271633083241556-6583470693671399726?l=lizzaleal.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Liza Lealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07374442373615103970noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7386271633083241556.post-56310956245034871672010-09-22T06:44:00.000-07:002010-09-22T11:49:43.497-07:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IgEs481zgh8/TJoL39OjKEI/AAAAAAAAAu4/RAm__iSSlnU/s1600/carta-de-amor.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519737349252261954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 258px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IgEs481zgh8/TJoL39OjKEI/AAAAAAAAAu4/RAm__iSSlnU/s320/carta-de-amor.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">Todo mundo tem uma carta na gaveta..Na manga.... Ou num arquivo qualquer</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">Da memória... Que não chegou a ser escrita, mas ensaiou ser dita... e faltou coragem pra se dizer... Sem se preocupar com estética ou beleza no falar. </span></strong></div><div><span style="color:#ffffff;"><strong>O poder que tantas palavras trazem, morrem todos os dias, intactas no silêncio de uma boca q</strong><strong>ue não ousa redecorar o rosto de alguém. (L.Leal)</strong></span></div><div><strong><span style="color:#ffffff;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span></strong></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7386271633083241556-5631095624503487167?l=lizzaleal.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Liza Lealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07374442373615103970noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7386271633083241556.post-42237918780220239032010-09-17T14:24:00.000-07:002010-09-18T05:37:40.603-07:00<div align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IgEs481zgh8/TJSyatvuquI/AAAAAAAAAtI/Zv1FcIbE0CY/s1600/ex_noticia_15_yoga.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518231615461829346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 198px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IgEs481zgh8/TJSyatvuquI/AAAAAAAAAtI/Zv1FcIbE0CY/s320/ex_noticia_15_yoga.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="color:#cccccc;"><strong></strong></span></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">Rezo,<br />Rezo sim!...<br />Do meu jeito<br />Improvisado<br />Imprevisivel<br />Escancaro...<br />Por vezes<br />Falo, falo...<br />Outras vezes<br />Sinto-me, apenas...<br />E então me calo </span></strong></div><br /><br /><div><br /><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">Certas horas<br />Cerro os olhos<br />Somente...<br />Ou miro<br />Num ponto fixo<br />Qualquer...<br />Mentalizo<br />Na plenitude<br />Viva<br />Do existir</span></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">Respiro </span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">Na amplitude</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">Do quarto<br />Vivo em mim<br />E ali permaneço<br />Mente<br />E corpo<br />Plena...<br />Pedinte...<br />Forte,<br />Serena,<br />Grata<br />Feliz!...<br /></span></strong></div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7386271633083241556-4223791878022023903?l=lizzaleal.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Liza Lealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07374442373615103970noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7386271633083241556.post-38175966107431096642010-09-09T05:43:00.000-07:002010-09-09T06:15:24.940-07:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IgEs481zgh8/TIjb6PS3SII/AAAAAAAAAsw/4HJGym5DVGg/s1600/pes.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514899537299720322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 219px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IgEs481zgh8/TIjb6PS3SII/AAAAAAAAAsw/4HJGym5DVGg/s320/pes.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IgEs481zgh8/TIjaSXhMNwI/AAAAAAAAAso/6_OIgjHN8Xo/s1600/Vento_zk_Vento.jpg"></a><div><br /> </div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">Da saudade?...</span></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">Não... Não sei dizer!</span></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">Pra falar a verdade</span></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">Nunca olhei </span></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">Em seus olhos</span></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">Não sei se chora</span></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">Ou se ri...</span></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">Não sei </span></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">Da altura, peso</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">Nem cor...</span></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">O que sei </span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">Nem mesmo sei...</span></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">Somente sinto</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">A vibrar</span></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">Em torno de mim...</span></strong></div><div align="center"><br /><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">Ora arrepios</span></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">Ora suspiros</span></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">Ora sentimentos</span></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">Que engrandecem</span></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">E vacilam...</span></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">Podem fazer buscas</span></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">O quanto quiserem</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">Mas...</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">Provas concretas...</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">É "zero"</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">Que terão </span></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;">De mim</span></strong></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#ffffcc;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div><strong><span style="color:#ffff99;"></span></strong></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7386271633083241556-3817596610743109664?l=lizzaleal.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Liza Lealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07374442373615103970noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7386271633083241556.post-6315978272768003602010-07-22T11:23:00.000-07:002011-04-11T12:11:48.083-07:00<div align="left"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><strong><span style="color:#666666;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"></span>D<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 237px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 374px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496804648878880306" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IgEs481zgh8/TEiStHAkNjI/AAAAAAAAAqA/MoS1JlyQeRo/s320/Guitarrista.jpg" /></span><span style="color:#666666;"></span></strong></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><strong><span style="color:#666666;"></span></strong></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><strong><span style="color:#666666;"></span></strong></span></div><br /><div align="right"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"></span></strong></div><strong><span style="color:#666666;"></span></strong><br /><p align="right"></p><br /><div align="right"><span style="color:#666666;"></span></div><br /><p><span style="color:#000066;">Decidi r</span><span style="color:#000066;">asgar o verbo</span></p><br /><p><span style="color:#000066;">Num toque de blues </span></p><br /><p><span style="color:#000066;">Sincero</span></p><br /><p><span style="color:#000066;">Na pegada trêmula</span></p><br /><p><span style="color:#000066;">Meio engasgada</span></p><br /><p><span style="color:#000066;">A garganta finge agonia</span></p><br /><p><span style="color:#000066;">Num perfeito roubo de cena~</span></p><br /><p><span style="color:#000066;">Deixa a garganta em pranto</span></p><br /><p><span style="color:#000066;">Com seu afinado grito</span></p><br /><p><span style="color:#000066;">Enquanto vibram as cordas</span></p><br /><p><span style="color:#000066;">Do violão</span></p><br /><p><span style="color:#000066;">Também se contorcem</span></p><br /><p><span style="color:#000066;">Os músculos do corpo</span></p><br /><p><span style="color:#000066;">E as fibras </span></p><br /><p><span style="color:#000066;">Do coração</span></p><br /><p><span style="color:#000066;">Ritmo vibrante... Frenético</span></p><br /><p><span style="color:#000066;">Os olhos por instantes</span></p><br /><p><span style="color:#000066;">FEcham-se </span></p><br /><p><span style="color:#000066;">Pés tocam</span></p><br /><p><span style="color:#000066;">Em nuvens </span></p><br /><p><span style="color:#000066;">De algodão</span></p><br /><p><span style="color:#000066;"></span></p><br /><p align="right"><span style="color:#000066;"></span></p><br /><div align="right"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;color:#000066;"></span></strong></div><br /><p align="right"><span style="color:#000066;"></span></p><br /><p align="right"><span style="color:#000066;"></span></p><br /><div align="right"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;color:#000066;"></span></strong></div><br /><p align="right"><span style="color:#000066;"></span></p><br /><div align="right"><span style="color:#000066;"></span></div><br /><p align="right"></p><br /><div align="right"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;color:#333333;"></span></strong></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7386271633083241556-631597827276800360?l=lizzaleal.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Liza Lealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07374442373615103970noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7386271633083241556.post-22815232677607111062010-07-16T06:16:00.000-07:002010-07-16T06:30:54.429-07:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IgEs481zgh8/TEBcDokfmxI/AAAAAAAAApg/F6to9unXcGg/s1600/menina.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494492762891852562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IgEs481zgh8/TEBcDokfmxI/AAAAAAAAApg/F6to9unXcGg/s320/menina.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#660000;">Dos doces mais raros<br />Compartilhados<br />Trago comigo<br />Raras reliquias<br />De um tempo<br />Em que sabores<br />Transmitiam cores<br />E cores... Sabores<br />Na disputa limpa e pura<br />Nos riscos da "amarelinha"...<br />No saudoso curativo<br />Entre quedas e vacilos<br />No aprendizado envolvente<br />Na sede do crescer...<br />Na eternidade<br />De momentos ricos </span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#660000;">Da vaga lembrança</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#660000;">Do chão Nordestino...</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#660000;">E lutadores que lá...</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#660000;">Deram-me VIDA<br />Do colo que me permitia<br />Ver o mundo<br />Lá "de cima"<br />Detalhes tão precisos...<br />Impossível esquecer!<br /></div></span></strong><br /><p><strong><span style="font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="font-size:85%;color:#660000;">(Essa postagem nasceu de um convite especial do blog "É O MENINO-HOMEM?")</span></strong></p><br /><br /><span style="color:#ffff99;"><strong></strong></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7386271633083241556-2281523267760711106?l=lizzaleal.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Liza Lealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07374442373615103970noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7386271633083241556.post-46551283557959012532010-06-14T06:25:00.000-07:002011-03-30T06:53:54.383-07:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IgEs481zgh8/TBd058ngl0I/AAAAAAAAAkU/DIISL_Dg7N8/s1600/anna-tag-dormir.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 242px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482979610220074818" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IgEs481zgh8/TBd058ngl0I/AAAAAAAAAkU/DIISL_Dg7N8/s320/anna-tag-dormir.jpg" /></a> <br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IgEs481zgh8/TBYvLtei6_I/AAAAAAAAAkM/PlnM5uZx9bY/s1600/ab%C3%A7o.jpg"></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"><strong>Quero agora Nesse instante </strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"><strong>Limitar-me a doçura De assistir teu sono Pesado, profundo... E fingir ser teu dono Nesse teu parecer De encanto e abandono... Ser a sombra do anjo Que te guarda... </strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"><strong>Velar seu descanso </strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"><strong>Em tua paz explícita </strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"><strong>Na mais presente beleza </strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"><strong>Somente e sempre que puder </strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"><strong>E tanto quanto teu querer </strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"><strong>Declarar-me tal como vier, </strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"><strong>Estarei por certo </strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"><strong>A lhe fitar pura e simplesmente </strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"><strong>Da cabeça aos pés </strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"><strong>Na propriedade privada </strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"><strong>Que somente se lê no leito </strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"><strong>Na intensidade perfeita </strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"><strong>Que nos une com jeito </strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"><strong>Tão logo o comando do amor </strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"><strong>Retire seu véu </strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"><strong>Num caminho perfeito </strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"><strong>Que nos leva aos céus </strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"><strong>Penetra nos órgãos </strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"><strong>E estes se prostram</strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"><strong>Depois do enlace...</strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"><strong>"Enquanto deleto a fala</strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"><strong>Reúno peito e abraço</strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"><strong>Em momento sublime </strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"><strong>Que a natureza dos anjos </strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"><strong>Trabalha com graça..." </strong></span></div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"><strong></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"><span style="font-size:100%;color:#000000;"></span></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"><strong><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div></strong></span><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">by LiZa Leal </span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7386271633083241556-4655128355795901253?l=lizzaleal.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Liza Lealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07374442373615103970noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7386271633083241556.post-40258791696981261212010-05-26T11:39:00.000-07:002011-03-30T06:57:12.476-07:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IgEs481zgh8/S_1vMwp7I0I/AAAAAAAAAjI/XOtCVCUFH7o/s1600/solidao-1.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 212px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475654986962248514" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IgEs481zgh8/S_1vMwp7I0I/AAAAAAAAAjI/XOtCVCUFH7o/s320/solidao-1.jpg" /></a> <br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IgEs481zgh8/S_1uZL7Mf4I/AAAAAAAAAjA/YBotZI3JL2A/s1600/Solidao-nao-e-falta-de-gente.jpg"></a><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#663366;">Devagar</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#663366;">E com jeito</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#663366;">Lhe tiro </span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#663366;">De minha vida</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#663366;">Como quem</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#663366;">Raspa com faca</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#663366;">A tinta</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#663366;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#663366;">Do piso</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#cccccc;"></span></strong></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7386271633083241556-4025879169698126121?l=lizzaleal.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Liza Lealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07374442373615103970noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7386271633083241556.post-30905534637031520342010-01-04T07:08:00.000-08:002011-04-11T11:50:08.405-07:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IgEs481zgh8/S0JcBCnxoCI/AAAAAAAAAb0/umjjuoCCKQQ/s1600-h/Boca_roxa.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 313px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422998074260824098" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IgEs481zgh8/S0JcBCnxoCI/AAAAAAAAAb0/umjjuoCCKQQ/s320/Boca_roxa.jpg" /></a> <br /><div><span style="color:#660000;"><strong>Definitivamente</strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#660000;">T</span><span style="color:#660000;"><strong>eus olhos...</strong> </span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#660000;"><strong>Ah! eles caçam</strong> <strong>no espelho das águas</strong> </span></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#660000;">O jogo do "nada"...</span></strong></div><br /><div><span style="color:#660000;"><strong>O quando a lingua</strong> <strong>passeia nos lábios</strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#660000;">N<strong>um gesto</strong></span><span style="color:#660000;"><strong> ágil... </strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#660000;"><strong>Cai por terra </strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#660000;"><strong>Toda conta exata </strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#660000;"><strong>Enquanto respiras</strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#660000;"><strong>Somente pela boca</strong> </span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#660000;"><strong>Desaba toda força</strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#660000;"><strong>Em letras </strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#660000;"><strong>E alvoroço</strong> </span></div><strong></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7386271633083241556-3090553463703152034?l=lizzaleal.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Liza Lealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07374442373615103970noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7386271633083241556.post-41624639952051338242009-02-05T03:51:00.000-08:002011-04-30T06:38:39.069-07:00<span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;color:#999900;"><em><strong></strong></em></span> <br /><div align="center"><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;color:#999900;"><em><strong><a href="http://photobucket.com/images/carinho" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="carinho Pictures, Images and Photos" src="http://i147.photobucket.com/albums/r313/Julynhamcz/carinho.jpg" /></a></strong></em></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;color:#999900;"><em><strong></strong></em></span><br /><span style="color:#6666cc;"><strong><span style="font-family:courier new;"><em>Não me pergunte </em></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><em>O porquê</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><em>O ângulo</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><em>E a cor </em></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><em>A dimensão</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><em>Dessa adrenalina</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><em>Gigante</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><em>Caprichosa</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><em>E angustiante</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><em>Que corta</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><em>Todo princípio</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><em>De berço, </em></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><em>Aprendizado</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><em>De escola</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><em>Que deixa</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><em>Qualquer mãe</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><em>Satisfeita. </em></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><em>É AMOR </em></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><em>Que dizem por aí</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><em>Com todo</em></span><br /></strong></span><span style="color:#6666cc;"><strong><span style="font-family:courier new;"><em>E nenhum respeito<br />Existir<br />Simples<br />Como o som<br />Da chuva<br />Peixe no anzol<br />Folia de criança<br />Imponente</em></span><br /></strong></span><span style="color:#6666cc;"><strong><span style="font-family:courier new;"><em>Intrigante<br />Apaixonadamente<br />Extravagante<br />Feito o nascer<br />Ou pôr do sol</em></span><br /></strong></span><span style="color:#6666cc;"><strong><span style="font-family:courier new;"><em>Adrenalina<br />Com espaços<br />A um breve<br />Respirar<br />Saltos de riscos<br />Dentro do peito<br />Nuances<br />De cores<br />Num mergulho<br />Imperfeito<br />Que não dá pra contar...<br /></em></span><br /></strong></span><span style="font-family:courier new;"><em></em></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;"><em><span style="font-size:78%;color:#cccccc;">by LiZa Leal<br /><br /></span><br /><br /><br /></div></em></span><span style="font-family:courier new;"><em></em></span><span style="font-family:courier new;"><em></em></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7386271633083241556-4162463995205133824?l=lizzaleal.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Liza Lealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07374442373615103970noreply@blogger.com6