NÃO QUERO!

                               Não quero
                               Lágrimas a escorrer
                               Na tua face,
                               Nem desenhos
                               De rugas
                               Que não tens!
                               Não quero
                               Que o sorriso
                               Vá embora,
                               O sentimento
                               Necessite de disfarce,
                               A ternura desapareça
                               Sem aviso.
                               O amôr
                               Se transforme
                               Num impasse,
                               Porque no fundo,
                               A vida
                               Dura menos
                               Que uma hora
                               E a dôr,
                               Vai sobrando
                                Neste mundo!

MIRAGEM!

                                     Afasto-me
                                     Do monte
                                     E da fraga amiga,
                                     Como folha caduca
                                     Do velho carvalho
                                     Em Outono triste,
                                     Ao sabor do vento,
                                     Sem definir o destino,
                                     De lágrima no olho
                                     E alma ferida!
                                     É tempo
                                     Do adeus,
                                     Da partida
                                     Sem regresso,
                                     Da saudade maluca,
                                     Do momento
                                     Pregresso!
                                     Afasto-me
                                     Do monte
                                     E da fraga amiga,
                                     Do leito do rio,
                                     Da água da ponte,
                                     Da estrela polar
                                     E do meu horizonte!
                                     Passam nuvens
                                     Que arrastam o Sol,
                                     Chega a noite,
                                     Vem o frio,
                                      Acaba a viagem
                                      Na estrada da vida!
                                      É hora de amar
                                      E o resto é miragem!
                                

VIAGEM PARA A GUERRA !

                                              Há
                                              Lenços brancos
                                              No cais,
                                              Que limpam
                                              A lágrima sentida
                                              E acenam devagar,
                                              Na hora
                                              Da despedida!
                                              Parte o barco
                                              Para um mar
                                              De choro,angústia,
                                              Lágrimas e ais!
                                              Em terra
                                              Fica o amor,
                                              No horizonte
                                              Mora a guerra,
                                              Os tiros,
                                              Morteiros,
                                              As minas,
                                              Os canhões,
                                              Sangue e dôr!
                                              Regressam
                                              Os meio vivos,
                                              Da guerra
                                              Que não queriam
                                              E lhes matou
                                              Os amigos!
                                              Cansados,tristes,
                                              Deprimidos,
                                              Para quem a vida
                                              Vai ser treva,
                                              Com insónia garantida
                                              E de manhã,
                                              Serão esquecidos!
                                             

MORREU O POETA !

                                  Morreu
                                  O poeta,
                                  Mas resiste
                                  O poema,
                                   A rima imortal,
                                   A ideia,
                                   O lema
                                   E a verdade
                                   Da poesia!
                                   Morreu
                                   O poeta,
                                   Cumpriu a sina,
                                   Fica o soneto
                                   Do amor
                                   Sem maldade!
                                   Restam
                                   Os livros,
                                   O papel,
                                   A caneta
                                   E a janela
                                   Aberta,
                                   Por onde sai dor
                                   E entra maresia!

PAPAGAIO!

                                         Lancei
                                         Um papagaio,
                                         Nos céus
                                         Do meu Paìs!
                                         Subiu lesto
                                         Até ás nuvens,
                                         Aproveitando
                                         Os bons ventos,
                                         Olhou para baixo,
                                         Disse adeus
                                         E sentiu-se infeliz.
                                         Ao ouvir lamentos
                                         De um povo
                                         Que sofre,
                                         Sem esperança,
                                         Sem objectivos,
                                         Vegetando
                                         E já com fome,
                                         Á espera
                                         Que acabe a dança
                                         E a música
                                         De alguns partidos!
        

MENDIGO !

                                        Mãos negras,
                                        Calejadas,
                                        Rugas profundas,
                                        Dedos feridos,
                                        Unhas partidas
                                        E um naco de pão!
                                        Destino marcado
                                        Nas linhas da mão,
                                        Apelo adocicado,
                                        Mensagem de amor,
                                        Seguramente,
                                        Já não sente dor!
                                        E eu?
                                        Porque fico parado?!!!

OS CINCO SENTIDOS !

                                    Estou
                                    Melhor
                                    Que nunca!
                                    Sentidos apurados,
                                    Só vejo
                                    O que quero,
                                    Ouço
                                    Dos dois lados,
                                    Percebo a qualidade,
                                    O cheiro
                                    Está normal,
                                    Gosto da verdade
                                    E a politica
                                    Cheira mal!
                                    Mantenho funções
                                    Como sempre desejei!
                                    Sonhos,ilusões,
                                    Duvidas,certezas,
                                    Desejos,orações,
                                    Filosofias, fraquezas
                                    E os segredos
                                    Do amor,
                                    Nos anos do Rei!

CRISE !

                                    Olhos verdes
                                    Que sorriem
                                    E iluminam
                                    A tristeza
                                    Que se sente,
                                    Sorriso terno
                                    Que não mente,
                                    Mas disfarça
                                    Destino negro,
                                    Rumo á pobreza
                                    Que se adivinha,
                                    Mas teima
                                    Em ficar escondida!
                                    Dignidade
                                    Que não se vende,
                                    Verdade
                                    Que se defende,
                                    Esperança
                                    Que não morre,
                                    Frágil alicerce
                                    De uma vida!



                                 

VIAGEM SEM REGRESSO!

                                          Sinto
                                          Que a vida
                                          Me foge,
                                          Entre os dedos
                                          Entrelaçados,
                                          Num Outono
                                          Quase Inverno,
                                          Mais passado
                                          Que futuro,
                                          Presente envenenado,
                                          Pela certeza
                                          Da partida
                                          E de um fim
                                          Que é prematuro!
                                          Saudade
                                          Do nosso segredo,
                                          Viagem
                                          Que é degredo,
                                          Desejo
                                          Sempre adiado!
                                          Parte a alma,
                                          Mas fica a obra
                                          No alto do meu monte,
                                          Onde o amor sobra,
                                          Resta tempo
                                          Para te dar um beijo
                                          E a noite ´
                                          É sempre mais calma!
                                         
                                         

VELHO CARVALHO!

                                      Cai
                                      A meus pés,
                                      A folha caduca
                                      Do velho carvalho!
                                      Fim de vida
                                      De uma tarde
                                      De Outono,
                                      De céu azul
                                      E sol amarelado!
                                      Não tarda
                                      Que a noite caia,
                                      Venha o orvalho
                                       E a dança maluca
                                       Das folhas
                                       Que morrem
                                       A meio do sono,
                                       Dos ramos
                                       Que esgrimem o vento!
                                       Morre lentamente
                                       O velho amigo,
                                       À luz da Lua,
                                       Cheio de orvalho
                                       Num triste lamento!
                                       Amanhã
                                       Volta a nascer o dia,
                                        Mas o mundo
                                        Perde encanto,
                                        A vida recua
                                        E eu perco o abrigo!
                                 
                                      

LIBERDADE!

                                              Sou
                                              Ave
                                              Ao sabor do vento,
                                              No meio
                                              Da tempestade,
                                              Lutando
                                              Contra a corrente
                                              À espera
                                              Que chegue
                                              O momento,
                                              De saudar
                                              A liberdade
                                              E perceber
                                              Finalmente,
                                              Que vale a pena lutar!

CONTO DE FADAS!

                              Há
                              Poesia no ar!
                              Sonetos,
                              Poemas de amor,
                              Rimas soltas,
                              Hino á liberdade,
                              Mágoas cantadas
                              Em noite
                              De luar,
                              Choro,
                              Tristeza e dôr,
                              Lágrimas salgadas,
                              Risos,
                              Loucuras,
                              Sorrisos,
                              Frases douradas
                              Em página pura,
                              De ideias cansadas,
                              Tratado de ternura,
                              Nas trovas perdidas
                              De um conto de fadas!
                             
         

MAR MARCIANO!

                                          Encontrei
                                          O mar revolto,
                                          Abrindo
                                          Sulcos na areia,
                                          Rouco,
                                          A espumar
                                          De raiva,
                                          Sem dó,
                                          Sem piedade,
                                          A tentar
                                          Reduzir a pó,
                                          A essência
                                          Da verdade,
                                          Em exibição
                                          De força
                                          E suprema
                                          Carência de arte!
                                          Quadro
                                          Pintado a água,
                                          Em que a fúria
                                          Era o lema
                                          E as cores
                                          Vinham de Marte!