tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56107543865568525612012-02-16T01:58:11.324-08:00Imaginografias'Método, Método, que queres de mim? Bem sabes que comi do fruto do inconsciente.' Jules Laforguemariagomeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05675369811512771024noreply@blogger.comBlogger201100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5610754386556852561.post-464966922126097742010-05-26T02:01:00.000-07:002010-05-26T02:03:25.863-07:00<object width="640" height="505"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/urlTBBKTO68&hl=pt_BR&fs=1&rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/urlTBBKTO68&hl=pt_BR&fs=1&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="505"></embed></object><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5610754386556852561-46496692212609774?l=imaginografias2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>mariagomeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05675369811512771024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5610754386556852561.post-41697081176022245672010-05-02T02:33:00.000-07:002010-05-02T02:35:47.736-07:00<object width="640" height="505"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/OYjnxrMUt5s&hl=pt_BR&fs=1&rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/OYjnxrMUt5s&hl=pt_BR&fs=1&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="505"></embed></object><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5610754386556852561-4169708117602224567?l=imaginografias2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>mariagomeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05675369811512771024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5610754386556852561.post-9177441909314023552010-03-31T06:34:00.000-07:002010-03-31T06:35:59.323-07:00<object width="640" height="505"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/29425qSHsfw&hl=pt_BR&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/29425qSHsfw&hl=pt_BR&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="505"></embed></object><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5610754386556852561-917744190931402355?l=imaginografias2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>mariagomeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05675369811512771024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5610754386556852561.post-31007561028157410452010-03-10T06:31:00.000-08:002010-03-10T06:34:23.963-08:00[...]<br />O poeta não tem que se fechar num domínio estrito, confinado, o domínio dos jogos de palavras, o domínio de jogos de símbolos. O poeta tem uma competência total, multidimensional, que diz respeito à humanidade e à política, mas não tem que se deixar subjugar pela organização política. A mensagem política do poeta é de ultrapassar a política. [...]<br /><br />Edgar Morin<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">in Amor Poesia Sabedoria</span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">Edição Instituto Piaget</span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5610754386556852561-3100756102815741045?l=imaginografias2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>mariagomeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05675369811512771024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5610754386556852561.post-43452612711099095502010-03-10T06:29:00.000-08:002010-03-10T06:30:06.174-08:00<a href="http://s282.photobucket.com/albums/kk271/mariagomes_photo/?action=view¤t=mgomesred.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i282.photobucket.com/albums/kk271/mariagomes_photo/mgomesred.jpg" border="0" alt="a fuga"></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5610754386556852561-4345261271109909550?l=imaginografias2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>mariagomeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05675369811512771024noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5610754386556852561.post-71979478993747020562010-02-28T02:46:00.000-08:002010-02-28T02:47:29.861-08:00<object width="640" height="505"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/nGdFHJXciAQ&hl=pt_BR&fs=1&rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/nGdFHJXciAQ&hl=pt_BR&fs=1&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="505"></embed></object><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5610754386556852561-7197947899374702056?l=imaginografias2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>mariagomeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05675369811512771024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5610754386556852561.post-3111808032878470582009-09-12T11:53:00.000-07:002009-09-12T11:56:49.593-07:00<a href="http://s282.photobucket.com/albums/kk271/mariagomes_photo/?action=view&current=P1010002.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i282.photobucket.com/albums/kk271/mariagomes_photo/P1010002.jpg" border="0" alt="&oacute;leo sobre tela de Nkulu" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />óleo sobre tela, de Nkulu ( Angola)<br />fotografia de mariagomes<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5610754386556852561-311180803287847058?l=imaginografias2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>mariagomeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05675369811512771024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5610754386556852561.post-24683560967362716332009-09-12T02:18:00.000-07:002009-09-12T02:26:47.495-07:00[...]<br /><br />A minha alma é Sonora!...<br /><br />Bailado de Petrus Ivanowitch Zagoriansky<br />(fragmento)<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">in " Céu em fogo", Mário de Sá-Carneiro</span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">edição Assírio & Alvim</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5610754386556852561-2468356096736271633?l=imaginografias2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>mariagomeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05675369811512771024noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5610754386556852561.post-53902237207939698382009-08-26T07:53:00.000-07:002009-08-26T09:56:26.592-07:00a grafia da calterei sempre a grafia da cal num coração novo exterior<br />cheio de mar ou anémonas ou rosas num ímpeto<br />eivadas de sangue<br />na paridade mais viva do poema estelar<br />até à cúpula da morte<br />até a um silvo leve e límpido de sol.<br /><br />mariagomes<br />26 agosto 2009<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5610754386556852561-5390223720793969838?l=imaginografias2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>mariagomeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05675369811512771024noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5610754386556852561.post-42805411488631933262009-08-19T07:23:00.000-07:002009-08-21T05:36:15.909-07:00Quem disse que a pintura deve parecer-se com a realidade?<br />Quem o disse vê com olhos de não entendimento<br />Quem disse que o poema deve ter um tema?<br />Quem o disse perde a poesia do poema<br />Pintura e poesia têm o mesmo fim:<br />Frescura límpida, arte para além da arte<br />Os pardais de Bian Lun piam no papel<br />As flores de Zhao Chang palpitam<br />Porém o que são ao lado destes rolos<br />Pensamentos- linhas, manchas-espíritos?<br />Quem teria pensado que um pontinho vermelho<br />Provocaria o desabrochar da primavera?<br /><br /><br />SU DONGPO (China, 1035-1101)<br />-trad. Adelino Ínsua<br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">poema gentilmente enviado por Amélia Pais<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5610754386556852561-4280541148863193326?l=imaginografias2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>mariagomeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05675369811512771024noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5610754386556852561.post-30304316199532030902009-08-13T07:33:00.000-07:002009-08-19T07:52:29.485-07:00o que os meus olhos vêem, o que os teus olhos vêem,<br />será talvez o litigo da solidão profunda,<br />o ar, em suma,<br />num silêncio irredutível, livre, lírico , tão longínquo,<br />num lugar antes do tempo.<br /><br /><strong>mariagomes<br /></strong>agosto de 2009<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5610754386556852561-3030431619953203090?l=imaginografias2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>mariagomeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05675369811512771024noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5610754386556852561.post-1174410735137451552009-08-04T07:30:00.000-07:002009-08-04T09:54:37.383-07:00<span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">O ar<span style="color:#666666;">.......................</span>passa</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">através das palavras.</span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>António Ramos Rosa</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">in antologia poética</span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">publicações d. quixote</span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5610754386556852561-117441073513745155?l=imaginografias2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>mariagomeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05675369811512771024noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5610754386556852561.post-15051228441854590112009-07-27T06:02:00.000-07:002009-07-27T06:09:38.777-07:00<a href="http://s282.photobucket.com/albums/kk271/mariagomes_photo/?action=view&current=P1010074copy.jpg" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i282.photobucket.com/albums/kk271/mariagomes_photo/P1010074copy.jpg" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5610754386556852561-1505122844185459011?l=imaginografias2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>mariagomeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05675369811512771024noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5610754386556852561.post-85215611457464485572009-07-21T05:46:00.000-07:002009-07-21T06:04:53.849-07:00... o rio Douro<a href="http://s282.photobucket.com/albums/kk271/mariagomes_photo/?action=view¤t=P1010163copy.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i282.photobucket.com/albums/kk271/mariagomes_photo/P1010163copy.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5610754386556852561-8521561145746448557?l=imaginografias2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>mariagomeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05675369811512771024noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5610754386556852561.post-91904151348463140932009-07-21T03:55:00.000-07:002009-07-21T03:58:04.433-07:00sobre o rio Douro<a href="http://s282.photobucket.com/albums/kk271/mariagomes_photo/?action=view¤t=P1010161copy.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i282.photobucket.com/albums/kk271/mariagomes_photo/P1010161copy.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5610754386556852561-9190415134846314093?l=imaginografias2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>mariagomeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05675369811512771024noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5610754386556852561.post-6231714441119133442009-07-17T08:13:00.000-07:002009-07-17T08:26:43.815-07:00<a href="http://s282.photobucket.com/albums/kk271/mariagomes_photo/?action=view&current=P1010106copy.jpg" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i282.photobucket.com/albums/kk271/mariagomes_photo/P1010106copy.jpg" /></a><br /><br />[...]<br /><br />Toda a moral encerra uma palavra.<br />Proponho fotografar.<br /><br />O adjectivo corrompe.<br /><br /><strong>Ruy Duarte de Carvalho<br /></strong><span style="font-size:78%;">in memórias do intervalo<br />pg 36<br />editorial Nzila</span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5610754386556852561-623171444111913344?l=imaginografias2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>mariagomeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05675369811512771024noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5610754386556852561.post-2536651242313461122009-07-16T15:39:00.000-07:002009-07-16T15:45:27.327-07:00secreta é a manhã precipitando o teu nome...<br /><br />a sua leveza é o único ponto que pronuncio<br />agora que o sol nasceu.<br /><br /><br />mariagomes<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5610754386556852561-253665124231346112?l=imaginografias2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>mariagomeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05675369811512771024noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5610754386556852561.post-1832501592599465852009-07-15T00:22:00.000-07:002009-07-17T08:31:09.731-07:00<a href="http://s282.photobucket.com/albums/kk271/mariagomes_photo/?action=view&current=P1010007copycopy.jpg" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i282.photobucket.com/albums/kk271/mariagomes_photo/P1010007copycopy.jpg" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5610754386556852561-183250159259946585?l=imaginografias2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>mariagomeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05675369811512771024noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5610754386556852561.post-25183547744493198622009-07-09T03:32:00.000-07:002009-07-09T03:50:27.032-07:00não acordes os meus sonhos<br />eu não me demoro<br />há nos meus sonhos um poema estival<br />como um sol<br />as minhas sensações são almas sóbrias<br /><br />os meus olhos<br />o limbo de todos os crepúsculos.<br /><br />marigomes<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5610754386556852561-2518354774449319862?l=imaginografias2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>mariagomeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05675369811512771024noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5610754386556852561.post-20988206656279762972009-07-07T06:49:00.000-07:002009-07-17T08:30:17.221-07:00<a href="http://s282.photobucket.com/albums/kk271/mariagomes_photo/?action=view&current=P1010005copy-1.jpg" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="George Herbert" src="http://i282.photobucket.com/albums/kk271/mariagomes_photo/P1010005copy-1.jpg" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5610754386556852561-2098820665627976297?l=imaginografias2.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>mariagomeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05675369811512771024noreply@blogger.com1