é aquele velho papo
de que quando a gente menos
espera
surge aquela leve falta de ar
cheia de despropósito
aquele frio na barriga
que você nem sabe donde vem
a vergonha e a graça,
repentinas
e já estamos envoltos
naquela vulnerabilidade,
nus,
à mostra,
presos por nós cegos,
poderosérrimos
que enlaçam
os amantes de ontem,
apaixonados de aujourd'hui
amarrados e prisioneiros
de nós
(mesmos)
What a surprise today, four new poems!!! :-)
ResponderExcluirAnd I loved them all...
In the coming days I will write more, tonight I will just leave a couple. I like this poem, your showing vulnerability - beautiful vulnerability.. - but also the last verse, I thought those lines were beautiful - amantes de ontem,.. aujourd´hiu.. prisonerios de nos mesmos.. beautiful!
I am missing your poetry!! Any more on the way? How is this story going by the way?
ResponderExcluirI came across a link to this article earlier, reading it, the poem somehow reminded me of you. (Though I think you will be more prolific). See what you think
Keep writing
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/11/15/books/jack-gilbert-a-poet-off-the-literary-grid-dies-at-87.html?pagewanted=1&_r=0&smid=fb-share