<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6534381242962403406</id><updated>2011-05-04T01:19:29.668-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ventura</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6534381242962403406/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>José Maria Ventura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08160756490110218473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OWzmnQd5ETo/TUiue05pSrI/AAAAAAAAAA4/ZmZJjuTvTz4/s220/PIETRO%2B061.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>15</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6534381242962403406.post-8252288426292980662</id><published>2011-04-23T18:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-23T19:07:17.521-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Toda casa de taipa abandonada, guarda um grito de fome dentro dela.</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Uma casa de palha, barro e pau&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;construída no alto do sertão&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;sem arroz, sem farinha , sem feijão&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;sem ter prato, sem papa e sem mingau&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;seu vigia de noite é o&amp;nbsp;bacurau&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;passa a noite sentado na janela&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;no fogão não se vê uma panela&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;só se vê uma grelha enferrujada&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;toda casa de taipa abandonada&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;guarda um grito de fome dentro dela&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fui um dia ao sertão e visitei&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;uma casa de taipa construída&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;a parede da frente já caída&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;sentí tanta saudade que chorei&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;quis entrar nessa casa não entrei&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;quis falar mas me deu um nó na goela&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;desse filme de terror só ví&amp;nbsp;a tela&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;na passagem da fria madrugada&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;toda casa de taipa abandonada&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;guarda um grito de fome dentro dela&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uma cama de varas sem colchão&lt;br /&gt;uma toalha no chão serve de mesa&lt;br /&gt;essa casa&amp;nbsp;é a foto da pobreza&lt;br /&gt;de um homem nascido no sertão&lt;br /&gt;por lembrança deixou sobre o fogão&lt;br /&gt;muita cinza e um&amp;nbsp;caco de panela&lt;br /&gt;um pedaço do cinto sem fivela&lt;br /&gt;amarrado na porta da entrada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;toda casa de taipa abandonada&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;guarda um grito de fome dentro dela&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quem morou nessa casa antigamente&lt;br /&gt;tem história a contar do seu passado&lt;br /&gt;que saía bem cedo para o roçado&lt;br /&gt;e um cão farejando em sua frente&lt;br /&gt;tudo isso ficou na sua mente&lt;br /&gt;parecendo uma história de novela&lt;br /&gt;a coruja de noite é sentinela&lt;br /&gt;dessa casa que antes foi morada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;toda casa de taipa abandonada&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;guarda um grito de fome dentro dela&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um chiado de grilo ou besouro&lt;br /&gt;toda tarde se ouve na parede&lt;br /&gt;encostado a um torno de armar rede&lt;br /&gt;que na qual seu filho calava o choro&lt;br /&gt;e o sol declinava cor de ouro&lt;br /&gt;desenhando no céu uma grande tela&lt;br /&gt;imitando um rapaz na passarela&lt;br /&gt;despedindo de sua namorada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;toda casa de taipa abandonada&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;guarda um grito de fome dentro dela&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toda casa de&amp;nbsp;taipa é sem&amp;nbsp;fartura&lt;br /&gt;o seu dono não tem prazer na vida&lt;br /&gt;vendo um filho chorando sem comida&lt;br /&gt;sem ter&amp;nbsp;para lhe dar, uma rapadura&lt;br /&gt;sem legumes, sem carne e sem verdura&lt;br /&gt;sem tomate, cenoura e beringela&lt;br /&gt;sem presunto, sem pão, sem mortadela&lt;br /&gt;sem manteiga, sem queijo e sem coalhada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;toda casa de taipa abandonada&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;guarda um grito de fome dentro dela&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não existe no centro um candeeiro&lt;br /&gt;que&amp;nbsp;à noite estava sempre aceso&lt;br /&gt;essa casa é um gesto de desprezo&lt;br /&gt;que atingiu o seu dono verdadeiro&lt;br /&gt;sem cama, sem forro e&amp;nbsp;travesseiro&lt;br /&gt;sem a lenha,&amp;nbsp;fogão e sem tijela&lt;br /&gt;sem um pano de prato, sem panela&lt;br /&gt;sem ninguém "pra" morar toda fechada&lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;toda casa de taipa abandonada&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;guarda um grito de fome dentro dela&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um papeiro vazio e esquecido&lt;br /&gt;e junto dele, uma colher de pau&lt;br /&gt;que uma mãe preparou muito mingau&lt;br /&gt;para um filho de fome adormecido&lt;br /&gt;pela seca seu dono foi vencido&lt;br /&gt;por lembrança deixou uma sequela:&lt;br /&gt;o retrato da fome vive nela&lt;br /&gt;assustando até mesmo a passarada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;toda casa de taipa abandonada&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;guarda um grito de fome dentro dela&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O seu dono era um agricultor&lt;br /&gt;quando havia um ano de fartura&lt;br /&gt;tinha queijo, manteiga e rapadura&lt;br /&gt;tinha paz, alegria e muito amor&lt;br /&gt;mas a seca cruel lhe trouxe a dor&lt;br /&gt;sua vida não era mais aquela&lt;br /&gt;o cavalo morreu ficou a sela&lt;br /&gt;num cambito de anjico pendurada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;toda casa de taipa abandonada&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;guarda um grito de fome dentro dela&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Essa casa é de estilo muito antigo&lt;br /&gt;a coberta é de palha de coqueiro&lt;br /&gt;agregado com paus de marmeleiro&lt;br /&gt;"pra" servir de refúgio e de abrigo&lt;br /&gt;bem na porta deitado&amp;nbsp;um cão amigo&lt;br /&gt;que nasceu com uma mancha na costela&lt;br /&gt;dois ou carrapatos na canela&lt;br /&gt;que pegou pelo mato na caçada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;toda casa de taipa abandonada&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;guarda um grito de fome dentro dela&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um suspiro, um soluço e um gemido&lt;br /&gt;quem passar perto dela&amp;nbsp;deve ouvir&lt;br /&gt;que seu dono deixou e quis partir&lt;br /&gt;"pra" morar num lugar desconhecido&lt;br /&gt;passou fome&amp;nbsp;e ficou bem desnutrido&lt;br /&gt;precisando de algo na panela&lt;br /&gt;cabisbaixo calçou uma chinela&lt;br /&gt;e saiu caminhando na estrada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;toda casa de taipa abandonada&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;guarda um grito de fome dentro dela&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não se houve o rangido da porteira&lt;br /&gt;nem o galo cantar no seu puleiro&lt;br /&gt;nem o ronco do porco no chiqueiro&lt;br /&gt;só o&amp;nbsp;grilo chiar na cumieira&lt;br /&gt;o restolho de uma prateleira&lt;br /&gt;que a esposa guardava pratos nela&lt;br /&gt;pendurada num prego uma flanela&lt;br /&gt;que com o tempo ficou bem desbotada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;toda casa de taipa abandonada&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;guarda um grito de fome dentro dela&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No terreiro uma pedra de amolar&lt;br /&gt;que de&amp;nbsp;tanto usarem ficou fina&lt;br /&gt;lá no quarto uma espingarda lazarina&lt;br /&gt;que seu dono guardava "pra" caçar&lt;br /&gt;hoje velha e não pode disparar&lt;br /&gt;na coronha tem prego e&amp;nbsp;arruela&lt;br /&gt;pertinho da vareta uma fivela&lt;br /&gt;com a tira de couro pendurada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;toda casa de taipa abandonada&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;guarda um grito de fome dentro dela&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uma casa de taipa sem telhado&lt;br /&gt;sem janela, sem porta e sem batente&lt;br /&gt;quem morou nessa casa antigamente&lt;br /&gt;tem história a contar do seu passado&lt;br /&gt;hoje o seu dono doente e bem cansado&lt;br /&gt;mal vestido e calçado com chinela&lt;br /&gt;tem saudade de quando viveu nela&lt;br /&gt;bem humilde,&amp;nbsp;bem pobre, mas zelada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;toda casa de taipa abandonada&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;guarda um grito de fome dentro dela&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Autor: Francisco de Assis Sousa (Chico Nenen)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;Brasília-DF&lt;br /&gt;27 de março de 2002&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6534381242962403406-8252288426292980662?l=pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/feeds/8252288426292980662/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/2011/04/toda-casa-de-taipa-abandonada-guarda-um.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6534381242962403406/posts/default/8252288426292980662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6534381242962403406/posts/default/8252288426292980662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/2011/04/toda-casa-de-taipa-abandonada-guarda-um.html' title='Toda casa de taipa abandonada, guarda um grito de fome dentro dela.'/><author><name>José Maria Ventura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08160756490110218473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OWzmnQd5ETo/TUiue05pSrI/AAAAAAAAAA4/ZmZJjuTvTz4/s220/PIETRO%2B061.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6534381242962403406.post-1842942246226412452</id><published>2011-04-23T07:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-23T17:47:45.153-07:00</updated><title type='text'>O poder de manipulação da mídia</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Os programas televisivos são apresentados ao público de&amp;nbsp;uma forma que engessa toda a sua&amp;nbsp;capacidade de pensar&amp;nbsp; sobre determinado assunto. A exemplo disso, observa-se o Faustão&amp;nbsp;entrevistando um participante (cobaia&amp;nbsp; desse laboratório de alienação)&amp;nbsp;no seu programa, cujas perguntas são elaboradas no campo dos sentimentos: o que voce sente?, o que voce acha?,o que voce viu?, do que voce gosta?, o que voce faz? Omitindo fatos da realidade, não perguntando ao entrevistado o que&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;PENSA sobre determinado assunto,&amp;nbsp;e&amp;nbsp; finaliza todo esse ensaio&amp;nbsp;com&amp;nbsp;o jargão " esse cara ralou para chegar até&amp;nbsp;aqui,&amp;nbsp;ó louco meu! Pensa que é fácil?&amp;nbsp;não&amp;nbsp;é&amp;nbsp;moleza não!"&amp;nbsp;Esse bordão tem a finalidade de&amp;nbsp;ocultar ou fazer o&amp;nbsp;povo esquecer, &amp;nbsp;do sofrimento&amp;nbsp;por que ralam todo os dias bem cedo tomando&amp;nbsp;ônibus lotado, enfrentando longos congestionamentos no trânsito&amp;nbsp;das grandes cidades.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Texto de opinão&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1jUkd4p-Vdo/TbLZLmaEqRI/AAAAAAAAAC8/zTdCx6bhffE/s1600/PIETRO+020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" i8="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1jUkd4p-Vdo/TbLZLmaEqRI/AAAAAAAAAC8/zTdCx6bhffE/s320/PIETRO+020.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;José Maria Ventura&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6534381242962403406-1842942246226412452?l=pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/feeds/1842942246226412452/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/2011/04/o-poder-de-manipulacao-da-midia.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6534381242962403406/posts/default/1842942246226412452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6534381242962403406/posts/default/1842942246226412452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/2011/04/o-poder-de-manipulacao-da-midia.html' title='O poder de manipulação da mídia'/><author><name>José Maria Ventura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08160756490110218473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OWzmnQd5ETo/TUiue05pSrI/AAAAAAAAAA4/ZmZJjuTvTz4/s220/PIETRO%2B061.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1jUkd4p-Vdo/TbLZLmaEqRI/AAAAAAAAAC8/zTdCx6bhffE/s72-c/PIETRO+020.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6534381242962403406.post-3272748868253892005</id><published>2011-04-23T06:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-23T06:19:59.598-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A velhice</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-m10Ncv56crQ/TVhJJvY8glI/AAAAAAAAACY/iXwDDwOAOb8/s1600/Foto2+Manoel+Nenen.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-m10Ncv56crQ/TVhJJvY8glI/AAAAAAAAACY/iXwDDwOAOb8/s320/Foto2+Manoel+Nenen.jpeg" width="232" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6534381242962403406-3272748868253892005?l=pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/feeds/3272748868253892005/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/2011/04/velhice.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6534381242962403406/posts/default/3272748868253892005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6534381242962403406/posts/default/3272748868253892005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/2011/04/velhice.html' title='A velhice'/><author><name>José Maria Ventura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08160756490110218473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OWzmnQd5ETo/TUiue05pSrI/AAAAAAAAAA4/ZmZJjuTvTz4/s220/PIETRO%2B061.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-m10Ncv56crQ/TVhJJvY8glI/AAAAAAAAACY/iXwDDwOAOb8/s72-c/Foto2+Manoel+Nenen.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6534381242962403406.post-5133603069216180322</id><published>2011-02-15T15:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-15T15:38:22.984-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Poesia autor Manoel Nenen</title><content type='html'>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;Tema: Volte mãe quero te ver&amp;nbsp;(de Francisco de Assis Sousa - Chico Nenen)&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Minha mãe me deu de tudo&lt;br /&gt;Do leito, a própria guarida&lt;br /&gt;Me deu prazar nesta vida&lt;br /&gt;Deu livro prá meu estudo&lt;br /&gt;Deu coberta de veludo&lt;br /&gt;Para meu corpo aquecer&lt;br /&gt;Oh Deus! Como irei viver&lt;br /&gt;Sem ela e tudo faltando&lt;br /&gt;Dia e noite estou chorando&lt;br /&gt;Volte mãe quero te ver&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; II&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoje ninguém me conforta&lt;br /&gt;A sua falta eu lamento&lt;br /&gt;A casa do sofrimento&lt;br /&gt;Abriu prá eu essa porta&lt;br /&gt;A mamãe se acha morta&lt;br /&gt;É triste meu padecer&lt;br /&gt;Eu não posso conviver&lt;br /&gt;Nesta grande solidão&lt;br /&gt;Saudade no coração&lt;br /&gt;Volte mãe quero te ver&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6534381242962403406-5133603069216180322?l=pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/feeds/5133603069216180322/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/2011/02/poesia-autor-manoel-nenen.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6534381242962403406/posts/default/5133603069216180322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6534381242962403406/posts/default/5133603069216180322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/2011/02/poesia-autor-manoel-nenen.html' title='Poesia autor Manoel Nenen'/><author><name>José Maria Ventura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08160756490110218473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OWzmnQd5ETo/TUiue05pSrI/AAAAAAAAAA4/ZmZJjuTvTz4/s220/PIETRO%2B061.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6534381242962403406.post-6361281234346948041</id><published>2011-02-13T14:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T14:32:17.905-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Poemas de Manoel Nenen</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MItpcJTlsq4/TVhXpVQM9lI/AAAAAAAAAC0/2sWLTV1Xo0g/s1600/Imagem.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MItpcJTlsq4/TVhXpVQM9lI/AAAAAAAAAC0/2sWLTV1Xo0g/s320/Imagem.jpg" width="232" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;﻿﻿﻿ &lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UA4TQ0Ghygg/TVfzqyeIhwI/AAAAAAAAACU/5SEeJtBvgYA/s1600/Hydrangeas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UA4TQ0Ghygg/TVfzqyeIhwI/AAAAAAAAACU/5SEeJtBvgYA/s320/Hydrangeas.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Hortênsias&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Pernambuco&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Minha terra querida, eu não te&amp;nbsp;esqueço&lt;br /&gt;Um momento se quer na minha vida&lt;br /&gt;De sua água potável, e da comida&lt;br /&gt;Que me de destes outrora, eu agadeço&lt;br /&gt;Hoje, ausente de ti&amp;nbsp;tanto padeço&lt;br /&gt;A saudade tortura e me flagela&lt;br /&gt;Eu recordo a novena da capela&lt;br /&gt;Que papai festejava com trabuco&lt;br /&gt;Minha terra querida é Pernambuco&lt;br /&gt;Tudo quanto eu gosto existe nela&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Autor: Manoel&amp;nbsp;Nenen&lt;br /&gt;Fev/1983&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;O&amp;nbsp;nordestino humilde do campo&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Todo nordestino tem&lt;br /&gt;A sua mão calejada&lt;br /&gt;Pelo decorrer dos anos&lt;br /&gt;No manejo da enxada&lt;br /&gt;Batalha, luta e não vence&lt;br /&gt;Morre e não arranja nada&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;Só veste roupa rasgada&lt;br /&gt;Anda sempre semi nú&lt;br /&gt;Alpargata de rabicho&lt;br /&gt;Só feita de couro crú&lt;br /&gt;Essa é a figura idêntica&lt;br /&gt;Dos filhos do Pajeú&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;﻿﻿﻿Autor: Manoel Nenen&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6534381242962403406-6361281234346948041?l=pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/feeds/6361281234346948041/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/2011/02/poemas-de-manoel-nenen.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6534381242962403406/posts/default/6361281234346948041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6534381242962403406/posts/default/6361281234346948041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/2011/02/poemas-de-manoel-nenen.html' title='Poemas de Manoel Nenen'/><author><name>José Maria Ventura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08160756490110218473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OWzmnQd5ETo/TUiue05pSrI/AAAAAAAAAA4/ZmZJjuTvTz4/s220/PIETRO%2B061.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MItpcJTlsq4/TVhXpVQM9lI/AAAAAAAAAC0/2sWLTV1Xo0g/s72-c/Imagem.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6534381242962403406.post-4832489341557169674</id><published>2011-02-13T14:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T14:08:26.046-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mocidade e Velhice</title><content type='html'>﻿ &lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eb8jZDqclkI/TVhU7j7sORI/AAAAAAAAACw/A0pr0MSmXAA/s1600/Foto+Manoe+Nenen.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eb8jZDqclkI/TVhU7j7sORI/AAAAAAAAACw/A0pr0MSmXAA/s320/Foto+Manoe+Nenen.jpeg" width="232" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Manoel Nenen e Pedoca&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;Tive a minha mocidade&lt;br /&gt;Cheia de tanta alegria,&lt;br /&gt;Mas hoje a melancolia&lt;br /&gt;O meu coração invade&lt;br /&gt;Velhice mágoa e saudade&lt;br /&gt;Tudo isso eu sofro, em fim,&lt;br /&gt;´´Prá´´&amp;nbsp;eu, não é mais surpresa&lt;br /&gt;Um temporal de tristeza&lt;br /&gt;Caído em cima de mim&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6534381242962403406-4832489341557169674?l=pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/feeds/4832489341557169674/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/2011/02/mocidade-e-velhice.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6534381242962403406/posts/default/4832489341557169674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6534381242962403406/posts/default/4832489341557169674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/2011/02/mocidade-e-velhice.html' title='Mocidade e Velhice'/><author><name>José Maria Ventura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08160756490110218473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OWzmnQd5ETo/TUiue05pSrI/AAAAAAAAAA4/ZmZJjuTvTz4/s220/PIETRO%2B061.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eb8jZDqclkI/TVhU7j7sORI/AAAAAAAAACw/A0pr0MSmXAA/s72-c/Foto+Manoe+Nenen.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6534381242962403406.post-7540850969699469778</id><published>2011-02-13T13:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T13:57:09.218-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Soneto : Tudo acontece na Velhice</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7LWz73s0TxM/TVhPij11iOI/AAAAAAAAACs/5ZAEUPd3-Aw/s1600/Foto3Manoel+Nenen.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7LWz73s0TxM/TVhPij11iOI/AAAAAAAAACs/5ZAEUPd3-Aw/s400/Foto3Manoel+Nenen.jpeg" width="290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;﻿﻿ &lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Tudo aparece no decorrer dos anos&lt;br /&gt;A velhice impera e destrói a vida&lt;br /&gt;Os prazeres fogem, tudo se liquida&lt;br /&gt;A matéria sofre estes desenganos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mocidade passa e outros planos&lt;br /&gt;Determinado chega, em seguida,&lt;br /&gt;A alma sente e fica comovida&lt;br /&gt;A chorar, triste, a causa desses danos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A velhice chega, vem a desventura&lt;br /&gt;Destruindo toda a estrutura&lt;br /&gt;Basicamente de um coração&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O ser torna-se um moribundo&lt;br /&gt;A&amp;nbsp;chorar queixoso a lamentar o mundo&lt;br /&gt;A mágoa triste de uma solidão.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Autor: Manoel Nenen&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;﻿﻿&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6534381242962403406-7540850969699469778?l=pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/feeds/7540850969699469778/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/2011/02/soneto-tudo-acontece-na-velhice.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6534381242962403406/posts/default/7540850969699469778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6534381242962403406/posts/default/7540850969699469778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/2011/02/soneto-tudo-acontece-na-velhice.html' title='Soneto : Tudo acontece na Velhice'/><author><name>José Maria Ventura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08160756490110218473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OWzmnQd5ETo/TUiue05pSrI/AAAAAAAAAA4/ZmZJjuTvTz4/s220/PIETRO%2B061.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7LWz73s0TxM/TVhPij11iOI/AAAAAAAAACs/5ZAEUPd3-Aw/s72-c/Foto3Manoel+Nenen.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6534381242962403406.post-8572584322097699429</id><published>2011-02-13T07:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-04-23T06:14:33.835-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A morte</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="background-color: #351c75;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black;"&gt;Oh&amp;nbsp;morte ingrata e ferina!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black;"&gt;Levaste mamãe querida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black;"&gt;Deixaste a&amp;nbsp;minha vida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black;"&gt;Na mais completa ruína&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black;"&gt;A saudade me elimina&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black;"&gt;E pertuba meu viver&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black;"&gt;Hoje, não tenho prazer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black;"&gt;Vivo chorando esta ausência&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black;"&gt;Apelo ´´prá´´ providência&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black;"&gt;Volte mãe quero te ver&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black;"&gt;Seu corpo&amp;nbsp; na eternidade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black;"&gt;Sua alma está com Deus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black;"&gt;Todos sentimentos meus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black;"&gt;Se transformou em saudade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black;"&gt;Peço à santa majestade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black;"&gt;Amenize o meu sofrer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black;"&gt;Ordene ela ´´prá´´ descer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black;"&gt;Do céu onde está morando&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black;"&gt;Eu fico lhe aguardando&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black;"&gt;Volte mãe quero te ver.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: black;"&gt;Autor : Manoel Nenen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: magenta;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: #351c75;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UA4TQ0Ghygg/TVfzqyeIhwI/AAAAAAAAACU/5SEeJtBvgYA/s1600/Hydrangeas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UA4TQ0Ghygg/TVfzqyeIhwI/AAAAAAAAACU/5SEeJtBvgYA/s400/Hydrangeas.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Hortênsias&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6534381242962403406-8572584322097699429?l=pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/feeds/8572584322097699429/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/2011/02/morte.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6534381242962403406/posts/default/8572584322097699429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6534381242962403406/posts/default/8572584322097699429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/2011/02/morte.html' title='A morte'/><author><name>José Maria Ventura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08160756490110218473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OWzmnQd5ETo/TUiue05pSrI/AAAAAAAAAA4/ZmZJjuTvTz4/s220/PIETRO%2B061.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UA4TQ0Ghygg/TVfzqyeIhwI/AAAAAAAAACU/5SEeJtBvgYA/s72-c/Hydrangeas.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6534381242962403406.post-8913391761651869550</id><published>2011-02-13T06:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T06:59:18.264-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Eu te amo</title><content type='html'>﻿ &lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6oaUCekrSPI/TVftcx4WXaI/AAAAAAAAACQ/ziIMO-OaqTM/s1600/PIETRO+014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6oaUCekrSPI/TVftcx4WXaI/AAAAAAAAACQ/ziIMO-OaqTM/s320/PIETRO+014.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Pietro e sua mãe Patrícia.&lt;br /&gt;Dedico esta poesia do meu pai para vocês.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿ &lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Amo vocês...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tú és bela e santa carinhosa&lt;br /&gt;Tú fazes parte da minha existência&lt;br /&gt;Sem você, eu não tenho paciência&lt;br /&gt;Minha vida se torna&amp;nbsp;tão nervosa&lt;br /&gt;E as horas do dia tão custosa&lt;br /&gt;A semana que passo sem te ver&lt;br /&gt;Já nã posso se quer nem entender,&lt;br /&gt;Este amor é tão forte e tão profundo&lt;br /&gt;Sem você, meu amor, neste mundo&lt;br /&gt;Eu prefiro antes não mais viver&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Os teus olhos para mim, são atraentes&lt;br /&gt;O teu riso me atrai com tanto amor,&lt;br /&gt;És um anjo divino e encantador&lt;br /&gt;Teu retrato não sai da minha mente,&lt;br /&gt;Pois te amo na vida fielmente&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Só a ti dediquei tanta amizade,&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Faço prece a&amp;nbsp;Jesus por caridade&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; ´´Prá´´ não usar de fingimento&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Se não eu vou morrer de sofrimento&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Ingerindo uma taça de saudade&amp;nbsp;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Autor: Manoel Nenen&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Escrito em 29 de Janeiro de 1992&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; São Paulo-SP&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6534381242962403406-8913391761651869550?l=pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/feeds/8913391761651869550/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/2011/02/eu-te-amo.html#comment-form' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6534381242962403406/posts/default/8913391761651869550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6534381242962403406/posts/default/8913391761651869550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/2011/02/eu-te-amo.html' title='Eu te amo'/><author><name>José Maria Ventura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08160756490110218473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OWzmnQd5ETo/TUiue05pSrI/AAAAAAAAAA4/ZmZJjuTvTz4/s220/PIETRO%2B061.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6oaUCekrSPI/TVftcx4WXaI/AAAAAAAAACQ/ziIMO-OaqTM/s72-c/PIETRO+014.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6534381242962403406.post-712509198208515514</id><published>2011-02-13T06:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T06:27:39.220-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Parlamentarismo, República ou Monarquia</title><content type='html'>﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿ &lt;div align="left"&gt;﻿﻿ &lt;/div&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-csn8Zw6WsrI/TVflzNEn_sI/AAAAAAAAACM/CUS-HLMzl2w/s1600/Foto3Manoel+Nenen.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-csn8Zw6WsrI/TVflzNEn_sI/AAAAAAAAACM/CUS-HLMzl2w/s400/Foto3Manoel+Nenen.jpeg" width="290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿﻿&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Vote no Rei&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Brasil sem democracia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Só existe desarmonia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;É palco da demagogia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Cenário da corrupção&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;por isso vou votar no rei&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;''Prá'' criar justiça e lei&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Nos tribunais da nação&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Autor: Manoel Nenen&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6534381242962403406-712509198208515514?l=pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/feeds/712509198208515514/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/2011/02/parlamentarismo-republica-ou-monarquia.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6534381242962403406/posts/default/712509198208515514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6534381242962403406/posts/default/712509198208515514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/2011/02/parlamentarismo-republica-ou-monarquia.html' title='Parlamentarismo, República ou Monarquia'/><author><name>José Maria Ventura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08160756490110218473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OWzmnQd5ETo/TUiue05pSrI/AAAAAAAAAA4/ZmZJjuTvTz4/s220/PIETRO%2B061.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-csn8Zw6WsrI/TVflzNEn_sI/AAAAAAAAACM/CUS-HLMzl2w/s72-c/Foto3Manoel+Nenen.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6534381242962403406.post-3066743402682431888</id><published>2011-02-13T05:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T05:55:44.997-08:00</updated><title type='text'>SONETO</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yewW8sqibdQ/TVfhOhnGhQI/AAAAAAAAACI/RAS6mp1eZfA/s1600/Foto2+Manoel+Nenen.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yewW8sqibdQ/TVfhOhnGhQI/AAAAAAAAACI/RAS6mp1eZfA/s640/Foto2+Manoel+Nenen.jpeg" width="465" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6534381242962403406-3066743402682431888?l=pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/feeds/3066743402682431888/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/2011/02/soneto.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6534381242962403406/posts/default/3066743402682431888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6534381242962403406/posts/default/3066743402682431888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/2011/02/soneto.html' title='SONETO'/><author><name>José Maria Ventura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08160756490110218473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OWzmnQd5ETo/TUiue05pSrI/AAAAAAAAAA4/ZmZJjuTvTz4/s220/PIETRO%2B061.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yewW8sqibdQ/TVfhOhnGhQI/AAAAAAAAACI/RAS6mp1eZfA/s72-c/Foto2+Manoel+Nenen.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6534381242962403406.post-4885262042672248721</id><published>2011-02-13T05:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T05:36:38.050-08:00</updated><title type='text'>SAUDADE DE ITAPETIM</title><content type='html'>﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿ &lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uoL8BAx6Fc8/TVfaA8EdOLI/AAAAAAAAACE/al7Nqn7rhNo/s1600/Foto+Manoe+Nenen.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uoL8BAx6Fc8/TVfaA8EdOLI/AAAAAAAAACE/al7Nqn7rhNo/s400/Foto+Manoe+Nenen.jpeg" width="290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Manoel Nenen e seu filho pedoca.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿ Saudade de Itapetim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;﻿&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;Do jeito que estou agora&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;Não mais vou&amp;nbsp; em Itapetim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;A doença me impede&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;Sinto um cançaso sem fim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;De de lá recebo as missivas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;Que muitas pessoas vivas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;Ainda se lembram de mim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;Itapetim minha terra&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;Amada e tão preferida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;De ti, eu sinto saudade&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;Por mim não és esquecida,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;Não existe outra igual&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;És meu torrão natal&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;Que mais adoro na vida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;Toda hora e todo instante&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;Eu sinto saudade dela&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;Uma cidade pequena&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;Hospitaleira e tão bela&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;Berço de Rogaciano&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;Um poeta veterano&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;Que tanto cantou ''pra'' ela&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;Autor: Manoel Nenen&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/6534381242962403406-4885262042672248721?l=pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/feeds/4885262042672248721/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/2011/02/saudade-de-itapetim.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6534381242962403406/posts/default/4885262042672248721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6534381242962403406/posts/default/4885262042672248721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/2011/02/saudade-de-itapetim.html' title='SAUDADE DE ITAPETIM'/><author><name>José Maria Ventura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08160756490110218473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OWzmnQd5ETo/TUiue05pSrI/AAAAAAAAAA4/ZmZJjuTvTz4/s220/PIETRO%2B061.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uoL8BAx6Fc8/TVfaA8EdOLI/AAAAAAAAACE/al7Nqn7rhNo/s72-c/Foto+Manoe+Nenen.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6534381242962403406.post-6439533981790262537</id><published>2011-02-12T08:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-12T08:39:41.171-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Manoel Nenen</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9uW7XXU11qs/TVavlfv7FiI/AAAAAAAAABo/u7yXqtOE9lI/s1600/Desert.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9uW7XXU11qs/TVavlfv7FiI/AAAAAAAAABo/u7yXqtOE9lI/s320/Desert.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Deserto&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Mote:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;SÓ NÃO QUERO IR NO BALCÃO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;TOMAR PORRE DE AGUARDENTE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Quero ser um fofoqueiro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Pilantra ou vagabundo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Só não quero que o mundo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Me chame de cachaceiro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Diga que sou&amp;nbsp;feiticeiro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Que eu fico mais contente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;quero receber corrente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Do espírito de lampião&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Só não quero ir no balcão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Tomar porre de aguardente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Prefiro ficar trancado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Em uma cadeia segura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;''Prá'' não beber pinga pura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Nem cerveja nem queimado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Quero ficar aleijado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Sentado em calçada quente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Vivendo como indigente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Comendo resto de pão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Só não quero ir no balcão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Beber porre de aguardente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Quero perder meu emprego&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Sem mulher, abandonado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Dormir no velho sobrado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Ser sugado por morcego&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Eu quero mesmo ser pêgo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Por um cabo ou um tenente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Quero sofrer um acidente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Cortar os dedos da mão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Só não quero&amp;nbsp;ir no balcão&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Beber porre de aguardente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Autor: Manoel Nenen&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Manoel Venâncio de Sousa&amp;nbsp;(Manoel Nenen) Nasceu em Brejinho-Pe e Faleceu em 29 de outubro de 2009&amp;nbsp;aos 79 anos de idade deixando os filhos(as) Maria Regina, Maria do Socorro, José Maria, José Renato(nenen) e Pedro Lucílio(pedoca).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;O&amp;nbsp;Manoel gostava de beber cachaça, mas sabia o mal que&amp;nbsp; a bebida lhe causava. Após cada porre, no dia seguinte prometia que iria parar de beber,&amp;nbsp;e vontade era tanta que ele começava a sonhar fazendo esses versos citando a&amp;nbsp;cachaça, como no mote: &lt;strong&gt;Só não quero ir no balcão, beber porre de aguardente.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Fonte:&amp;nbsp;José Maria Ventura&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6534381242962403406-6439533981790262537?l=pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/feeds/6439533981790262537/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/2011/02/manoel-nenen_7327.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6534381242962403406/posts/default/6439533981790262537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6534381242962403406/posts/default/6439533981790262537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/2011/02/manoel-nenen_7327.html' title='Manoel Nenen'/><author><name>José Maria Ventura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08160756490110218473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OWzmnQd5ETo/TUiue05pSrI/AAAAAAAAAA4/ZmZJjuTvTz4/s220/PIETRO%2B061.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9uW7XXU11qs/TVavlfv7FiI/AAAAAAAAABo/u7yXqtOE9lI/s72-c/Desert.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6534381242962403406.post-2813535575575235813</id><published>2011-02-12T07:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-12T07:20:07.170-08:00</updated><title type='text'>MANOEL NENEN</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VCZc9s_Bnbk/TVae72n2oUI/AAAAAAAAABg/4sY893UAzFw/s1600/PIETRO+120.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VCZc9s_Bnbk/TVae72n2oUI/AAAAAAAAABg/4sY893UAzFw/s320/PIETRO+120.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Em pé, Dona Francisca, sentadas da esquerda para a direita, Socorrinha(filha de Manoel) e Dona Maria (esposa Manoel Nenen)&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Mote: O PRANTO DE MÃE SOFRIDA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; FEZ EU DEIXAR DE BEBER&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Comecei beber cachaça&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Quando ainda adolescente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Me tornei um dependente&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Do vício dessa desgraça&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Bebendo à noite na praça&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;E o dia sem comer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Doente já ''prá'' morrer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;E a matéria enfraquecida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;O pranto de mãe sofrida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Fez eu deixar de beber&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; II&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Eu me julgava sem jeito&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Preso no elo do vício&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Passando, dor, sacrifício&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Sem corrigir meu defeito&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Sentia dentro do peito&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;O algo do desprazer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Estava ''prá'' enlouquecer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Com efeito da bebida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;O pranto de&amp;nbsp;mãe sofrida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Fez eu deixar de beber&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; III&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Pelo impulso da bebida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Me tornei um vagabundo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Bebendo pela favela&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Não ouvia mais aquela&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Que fez, eu vir ao mundo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Maltrapilho, sujo, imundo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Sem condição ''prá'' viver&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Fazendo mamãe sofrer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Destruindo a sua vida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;O pranto de mãe sofrida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Fez eu deixar de beber&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; IV&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Vezes pedia gorjeta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Para beber um queimado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;E depois de embriagado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Ia dormir na sarjeta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Era coisa do capeta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Eu não sabia entender&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Fazia mamãe sofrer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Derramar lágrima sentida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;O pranto de mãe sofrida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;Fez eu deixar de beber&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6534381242962403406-2813535575575235813?l=pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/feeds/2813535575575235813/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/2011/02/manoel-nenen_12.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6534381242962403406/posts/default/2813535575575235813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6534381242962403406/posts/default/2813535575575235813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/2011/02/manoel-nenen_12.html' title='MANOEL NENEN'/><author><name>José Maria Ventura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08160756490110218473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OWzmnQd5ETo/TUiue05pSrI/AAAAAAAAAA4/ZmZJjuTvTz4/s220/PIETRO%2B061.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VCZc9s_Bnbk/TVae72n2oUI/AAAAAAAAABg/4sY893UAzFw/s72-c/PIETRO+120.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6534381242962403406.post-5825218165939562122</id><published>2011-02-11T19:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-04-22T18:46:02.443-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Manoel  Nenen</title><content type='html'>Nasceu em15 de fevereiro de 1930&amp;nbsp;em Brejinho dos Nunes&amp;nbsp;município de Itapetim-Pe, atualmente emancipado como município de Brejinho. Nesta&amp;nbsp;Cidadezinha pequena no tamanho,&amp;nbsp;porém&amp;nbsp;grande pelo&amp;nbsp;povo que ali habita, no pé da Serra do São Joaquim no Vidéo, nasce o Rio Pajeú.&amp;nbsp;Esta região denominada&amp;nbsp;Sertão do Pajeú é considerada por muitos, o berço da poesia. Lá nasceram grandes poetas, mas aqui desejo expressar e lembrar de Manoel&amp;nbsp;Venancio Sobrinho ( Manoel de João Nenen) transcrevendo a seguir&amp;nbsp;algumas estrofes com o seguinte mote:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NO SILÊNCIO DA FRIA ETERNIDADE&lt;br /&gt;DORME&amp;nbsp;EM PAZ A MAMÃE QUE TANTO AMEI&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uma mãe amorosa como a minha&lt;br /&gt;Veio a morte tirana e carregou&lt;br /&gt;Para mim tristemente só ficou&lt;br /&gt;A saudade cruel, que eu tinha&lt;br /&gt;Muitas vezes, revejo a casinha&lt;br /&gt;Que com ela, em criança caminhei&lt;br /&gt;Em um quarto de dormida eu avistei&lt;br /&gt;Seu retrato, faltando a metade&lt;br /&gt;No silêncio da fria eternidade&lt;br /&gt;Dorme em paz a mamãe&amp;nbsp;que tanto amei.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; II&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoje vivo na triste solidão&lt;br /&gt;De saudade o meu peito vive cheio&lt;br /&gt;Pela mãe que me dava tanto enleio&lt;br /&gt;Que partiu para outra região&lt;br /&gt;Tenho hoje, a maior recordação&lt;br /&gt;Dos abraços e beijos que lhe dei&lt;br /&gt;Muitas lágrimas, por ela derramei&lt;br /&gt;Como fílho da triste orfandade&lt;br /&gt;No silêncio da fria eternidade&lt;br /&gt;Dorme em paz a mamãe que tanto amei.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; III&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoje dela, eu tenho na lembrança&lt;br /&gt;Seu sorriso de amor e simpatia&lt;br /&gt;Que me dava prazer e alegria&lt;br /&gt;E&amp;nbsp;de revela perdí a esperança&lt;br /&gt;Esta morta e na cova já descança&lt;br /&gt;E eu dela, jamais me esquecerei&lt;br /&gt;Muitas noites e noites, já chorei&lt;br /&gt;Que sem ela, a tristeza me invade&lt;br /&gt;No silêncio da fria eternidade&lt;br /&gt;Dorme em paz a mamãe que tanto amei.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; IV&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De mamãe, não esqueço um só minuto&lt;br /&gt;É por ela que aqui, vivo sofrendo&lt;br /&gt;Mês, e anos se passa eu estou vendo&lt;br /&gt;Meu corpo&amp;nbsp;coberto assim de luto&lt;br /&gt;Sua morte p'ra mim, foi&amp;nbsp;um tributo&lt;br /&gt;Que chorando, até hoje não paguei&lt;br /&gt;Mais no livro da morte eu assinei&lt;br /&gt;Vou pagar essa, conta com saudade&lt;br /&gt;No silêncio da fria da&amp;nbsp;eternidade&lt;br /&gt;Dorme em paz a mamãe&amp;nbsp;que tanto amei.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; V&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Esta morte cruel, casou-me dano&lt;br /&gt;Capitou a minha mamãe querida&lt;br /&gt;Destronou o prazer da minha vida&lt;br /&gt;Me jogou, sobre o mar do desengano&lt;br /&gt;Hoje triste caminho sem ter plano&lt;br /&gt;Por estrada, que nunca caminhei&lt;br /&gt;Mas sabendo, que a morte cumpre a lei&lt;br /&gt;Da divina suprema magestade&lt;br /&gt;No silêncio da fria eternidade&lt;br /&gt;Dorme em paz, a mamãe que tanto amei&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Autor: Manoel Venâncio (Manoel Nenên)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6534381242962403406-5825218165939562122?l=pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/feeds/5825218165939562122/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/2011/02/manoel-nenen.html#comment-form' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6534381242962403406/posts/default/5825218165939562122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6534381242962403406/posts/default/5825218165939562122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pedrassoltasfm.blogspot.com/2011/02/manoel-nenen.html' title='Manoel  Nenen'/><author><name>José Maria Ventura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08160756490110218473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OWzmnQd5ETo/TUiue05pSrI/AAAAAAAAAA4/ZmZJjuTvTz4/s220/PIETRO%2B061.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
