quarta-feira, 25 de janeiro de 2012

SEGREDOS DE GUARAMIRANGA


















A Serra de                                                         
Guaramiranga
Encanta-me!
                                                                           Emoção!
                                                                           Desponta
                                                                           Pulsa
                                                              
                                                                           Magia!
                                                                           Penetra
                                                                           Desperta

                                                                           Coloridos!
                                                                           Sonhos
                                                                           Gemidos


Sons em profusão
                            Sons em profusão
                                                         Sons em profusão...

Matizes do verde
Reunião
Sabiamente combinadas
Com o colorido da natureza
Com luzes
Beleza!

Que acendem
E apagam
                                        Que acendem
                                        E apagam

                                                                           Que acendem
                                                                           E apagam

Contando historias
Das trilhas insondáveis
Que a infância permite

Do sapo cururu
                                        Do sapo cururu
                                                                           Do sapo cururu
                                                                                       Duendes
                                                                                       Fadas

                                                                           Do Saci Pererê
                                                                           Da Mula sem Cabeça
                                                                           Do Lobisomem

Nos
Horizontes
Sobrepostos
Auroras
Ocasos
Impressões
                                        Que
                                                                           Desnudam
                                                                           Deixam
                                                                           Exposta
                                                                          
                                                                           Paisagem
                                                                           Infinita
                                                                          
                                                                           Resposta
                                                                           Espacial
                                                                           Harmoniosamente
                                                                           Composta
                                                                          
                                                                           Eternamente
                                                                           Bela!
Corta a luz
No azul
                            Nuvens
     Brancas
     A voar
     Molda de poesia
     O olhar
    
     De quem Olha
     Com
     Contemplação

                                                                                       Azul
                                                                                       Vede
                                                                                                   Verde
                                                                                                   Azul
                                                                                                             

                                                                           Verde
                                                                           Azul
Verde
Azul
                                        Azul
                                        Vede

                                        Mutantes
                                        No tempo
                                        Na luz

                                        Respostas
                                        Que dançam
                                        No vento
                                       
                                        Propostas
                                        Nos sons
                                        Da natureza


Quanta beleza
Despertando o prazer
Do estar
Sentindo o frescor
Da brisa
                Mansa
                Leve
Que obedece ao calor do sol
E esfria com a melancolia
No clarão do luar


                                                                           Fachada
                                                                           Do ocaso
                                                                           No odor
                                                                           Da mata
                                                                                                             
                                                                           Fechada
                                                                          
                                                                           Refugio
                                                                           Sombras
                                                                           Fadas
                                                                           Duendes
                                                                          
                                                                           Lembranças
                                                                           Guardadas
                                                                          
                                                                           Infância
                                                                           Perdida

                                                                           Resgatada
                                                                          
                                                                           Tempo
                                                                           Insondável



Trinar dos pássaros
Beijando as flores
Néctares
Mil cores
Semeando o equilíbrio
Cumprindo
Cruzando o espaço
Servil
Rumo a outros horizontes

                                                                           A cigarra
                                                                           Rasga
                                                                           Rompe
                                                                           Explode
                                                                           Anuncia
                                                                           O fim...

                                                                           Uma nova aurora
                                                                           Se inicia...

Queria eu penetrar
O infinito deste mundo
E na eternidade do profundo
Poder desfrutar
Todo o esplendor
Que a mão de Deus
Com sabedoria criou
Para o despertar
Da Criação.




Alvaro Oliveira
25/01/2012


Fotografia de Carlos Henrique Araújo

segunda-feira, 23 de janeiro de 2012

MAR ADENTRANDO

Igreja de São Pedro na Praia de Iracema - Fortaleza - década de 50 - arquivo Nirez











Braçadas                                                       Braçadas
                 Braçadas                     Braçadas                    Braçadas
                                   Braçadas                                                        Braçadas...


Entrando
Mar adentrando
                                   Nadando
                                   Mar adentrando
                                                                       Braçadas
                                                                       Mar adentrando
                                                                                                          Cansaço
                                                                                                          Mar adentrando
Sem horizonte!                                                           
Sem horizonte!
                                                                                                          A risca
                                                                                                          Mar adentrando
                                                                       Distanciando
                                                                       Vazando do horizonte
                                   Sumindo
                                   Vazando do horizonte
Saindo
Vazando do horizonte


Na praia chegando
Remonte
Jornada
A mim conte

Do mar ficou o véu
Denso
Luz
A brilhar
Sol a refletir
Gotas
Espumas no quebra-mar

De troféu
Ficou a bucólica
Visão
Da Igrejinha de São Pedro
Lá!
Do meio do mar


Caído na areia
Sem ressentimentos
Sem momentos a pensar
Na praia do Ideal
Esbaforido
Corroído
Feito metal
Pelo sal
A queimar
Pelo sol
Eu sorria
Quanta moral!



Alvaro Oliveira
23/01/2012

sábado, 21 de janeiro de 2012

ARRAIA NO CAMPO DO AMERICA


CONTRASTES

Quando eu era criança
Brincava
De empinar arraia
No areal
Do campo do América.
                                                               Tempo de paz
                                                               De alegria
                                                               De festas
                                                               Tempos inocentes
                                                               Sem violência
                                                               Sem arestas

Era lindo o lancear
O jogo do corte.
O acercar da criançada
Eu ficava deslumbrado
A me imaginar
O melhor.
                                                               Nada sabíamos
                                                               Da desumana
                                                               Competição de hoje
                                                               No campo do vicio
                                                               Alucinação

Todas com cerol,
Coloridas,
Cortando o azul do céu,
Buscando ganhar
A competição.
Estático,
Com o coração na mão,
Impressionava-me
Tanta habilidade.
                                                               De arma em punho
                                                               Crianças sem comunhão
                                                               Pobres sem distração
                                                               Sem escola
                                                               Ameaçam suas vidas
                                                               A troco da pedra
                                                               Vida cão
                                                               Cheirando cola

Os negrinhos da favela
Amostravam-se
No lanceio,
Faziam demonstração,
Era uma desconstrução total
No céu qualhado de arraias
                                                               Em bando
                                                               Assaltam
                                                               Se drogam
                                                               Matam
                                                               Morrem
                                                               Sem inocência nem infância
                                                               São bichos
                                                               São avião

Eram os melhores.
Ameaçavam os mais tímidos,
E quando uma arraia cortava,
Em bando
A criançada
Corria,
Gritava,
Atravessavam o quarteirão,
Entravam no quintal,
Era de quem pegasse,
Era do mais forte.
                                                               Não existe forte nem fraco
                                                               Existe a bala
                                                               A droga
                                                               O vicio que não fala
                                                               O medo
                                                               De quem trabalha
                                                               A autoridade que não age
                                                               E o trabuco que cala

Chorando
O perdedor
Pedia, em vão,
A sua arraia colorida
Sem volta.
                                                               Chorando
                                                               Mães sofrem
                                                               Sem saber a quem pedir
                                                               Sem filho
                                                               Sem volta


Alvaro Oliveira
21/01/12

sexta-feira, 20 de janeiro de 2012

FOME DE FÉ

Um homem com
            Cinco pães
            E dois peixes
            Não tinha                               
                                                           Fome
                                                                                   Cinco mil
                                                                                   Homens
                                                                                   Tinham

Um homem com
            Cinco pães
            E dois peixes
Podia matar a             
                                               Fome
                                                                                  De cinco mil
                                                                                  Homens
                                                                                  Famintos
                                                                                  Num despertar

Um homem com
            Cinco pães
            E dois peixes
            Tinha
                                                           Fome
                                                                                  De Caridade
                                                                                  De Solidariedade
                                                                                  De fé

Um homem com         
            Cinco pães
            E dois peixes
            Tinha
                                                           Fome

                                                                                  De matar
                                                                                   A fome
                                                                                   De cinco mil
                                                                                   Homens
                                                                                  De se doar

Um homem com
            Cinco pães
            E dois peixes
            Conhece na
                                                           Fome
                                                                                  Um homem
                                                                                  Com fome
                                                                                  De fé

Um homem com
            Cinco pães
            E dois peixes
            Se entrega na
                                                           Fome
                                                                                  A um homem
                                                                                  Que muda sua vida
                                                                                  Que muda seu caminho
                                                                                  Que muda seu despertar
           
Um homem com
            Cinco pães
            E dois peixes
           
            Sem fome...
            Solidário...
            E cheio de fé.



Alvaro Oliveira
20/01/2012