Hoje eu acordei com vontade.

Com vontade de te amar incondicionalmente.

De te beijar como se o mundo fosse acabar exatamente agora.

De sentir você perto de mim, de sentir que você é meu.

De ouvir você falando meu nome, e dizendo: Você é minha.

Vontade de sentir sua respiração na minha pele.

De ver seu sorriso quando falo coisas bobas.

De ouvir sua voz, que soa como um remédio pra minha alma.

Vontade de ouvir seu "eu te amo".

Hoje eu acordei com vontade de você.

A story of boy meets girl

This is a story of Boy Meets Girl.

The boy, Tom Hanson of Margate, NJ, grew up believing that he'd never truly be happy until the day he met The One.

This belief stemmed from early exposure to sad British pop music and a total misreading of the movie 'The Graduate.'

The girl, Summer Finn of Michigan, did not share this belief. Since the disintegration of her parents' marriage, she'd only
loved two things. The first was her long, dark hair. The second was how easily she could cut it off and feel nothing.

Tom meets Summer on January 8th. He knows almost immediately she is who he's been searching for.

This is a story of Boy Meets Girl, but you should know up front, this is not a Love Story.

(500 days of Summer)

By the sea

By The Sea

MRS. LOVETT:

(she kisses Todd)

Ooh, Mr. Todd!

I'm so happy!

I could

Eat you up, I really could!

You know what I'd like to do, Mr. Todd?

What I dream

If the business stays as good?

Where I'd really like to go,

In a year or so?

Don't you want to know?

TODD: Of course.

LOVETT: Do you really want to know?

TODD: Yes, I do.

LOVETT: By the sea, Mr. Todd, that's the life I covet,

By the sea, Mr. Todd, ooh, I know you'd love it!

You and me, Mr. T, we could be alone

In a house wot we'd almost own,

Down by the sea!

TODD: Anything you say...

LOVETT: Wouldn't that be smashing?

LOVETT:

Think how snug it'll be underneath our flannel

When it's just you and me and the English Channel!

In our cozy retreat kept all neat and tidy,

We'll have chums over ev'ry Friday!

By the sea!

Don'tcha love the weather?

By the sea!

We'll grow old together!

By the seaside,

Hoo, hoo!

By the beautiful sea!

It'll be so quiet,

That who'll come by it,

Except a seagull

Hoo, hoo!

We shouldn't try it,

Though, 'til it's legal for two-hoo!

But a seaside wedding could be devised,

Me rumpled bedding legitimized!

Me eyelids'll flutter,

I'll turn into butter,

The moment I mutter I do-hoo!

Down by the sea

Married nice and proper!

By the sea,

Bring along your chopper!

To the seaside,

Hoo, hoo!

By the beautiful sea!

(música do filme Sweeney Todd: O Barbeiro Demoníaco da Rua Fleet)

(Minha cena e música preferida :])

All I want is you

In the light of the morning, all I want to see is you.

In my breakfast, the only voice I want to hear is your voice.

In the rest of my day, the only throught I want in my mind is about you.

In the night, the only arms I want holding me is your arms.

And for the rest of my life, all I want is you.

Brenda Krishna

Bom dia :)

Canção para álbum de moça

Bom dia: eu dizia à moça
que de longe me sorria.
Bom dia: mas da distância
ela nem me respondia.
Em vão a fala dos olhos
e dos braços repetia
bom-dia a moça que estava
de noite como de dia
bem longe de meu poder
e de meu pobre bom-dia.

Bom-dia sempre: se acaso
a resposta vier fria ou tarde vier,
contudo esperarei o bom-dia.
E sobre casas compactas
sobre o vale e a serrania
irei repetindo manso
a qualquer hora: bom dia.
Nem a moça põe reparo
não sente, não desconfia
o que há de carinho preso
no cerne deste bom-dia.

Bom dia: repito à tarde
à meia-noite: bom dia.
E de madrugada vou
pintando a cor de meu dia
que a moça possa encontrá-lo
azul e rosa: bom dia.

Bom dia: apenas um eco na mata
(mas quem diria)
decifra minha mensagem,
deseja bom o meu dia.
A moça, sorrindo ao longe
não sente, nessa alegria,
o que há de rude também
no clarão deste bom-dia.
De triste, túrbido, inquieto,
noite que se denuncia
e vai errante, sem fogos,
na mais louca nostalgia.
Ah, se um dia respondesses
Ao meu bom-dia: bom dia!
Como a noite se mudara
no mais cristalino dia!

Carlos Drummond de Andrade

I want more than money and gifts

I want more than money and expensive gifts.

I want a call in the middle of the day.

I want that you apear of surprise in a normal day.

I want that you steal flowers of the neighboor garden and give it to me.

I want that you apear in my window in the sunday morning.

I want that you write a poetry to me.

I want that you scream my name in the metro station.

I want you more than anything money can buy.

All because I love you with my body and soul.

Brenda Krishna

Having a coke with you

Having a Coke with You

is even more fun than going to San Sebastian, Irún, Hendaye, Biarritz, Bayonne
or being sick to my stomach on the Travesera de Gracia in Barcelona
partly because in your orange shirt you look like a better happier St. Sebastian
partly because of my love for you, partly because of your love for yoghurt
partly because of the fluorescent orange tulips around the birches
partly because of the secrecy our smiles take on before people and statuary
it is hard to believe when I’m with you that there can be anything as still
as solemn as unpleasantly definitive as statuary when right in front of it
in the warm New York 4 o’clock light we are drifting back and forth
between each other like a tree breathing through its spectacles

and the portrait show seems to have no faces in it at all, just paint
you suddenly wonder why in the world anyone ever did them

I look
at you and I would rather look at you than all the portraits in the world
except possibly for the Polish Rider occasionally and anyway it’s in the Frick
which thank heavens you haven’t gone to yet so we can go together the first time
and the fact that you move so beautifully more or less takes care of Futurism
just as at home I never think of the Nude Descending a Staircase or
at a rehearsal a single drawing of Leonardo or Michelangelo that used to wow me
and what good does all the research of the Impressionists do them
when they never got the right person to stand near the tree when the sun sank
or for that matter Marino Marini when he didn’t pick the rider as carefully
as the horse

it seems they were all cheated of some marvelous experience
which is not going to go wasted on me which is why I am telling you about it

Frank O’Hara

Hello :D

Inside of my poet soul there is a little of hate and love, a little of sadness and a little of joy. :) CARPE DIEM