entradas e saidas de cena

Afinal a malta não escreve, afinal há gente que sai do coro,... Tantas entradas em cena so para voltarem a sair...

Não gosto quando as pessoas saiem de cena... Nunca sabeos se os voltamos a ver.
Tenho medo da saída de cena.

As coisas estão sempre a mudar...
Não gosto.

Mas será que eu sai de cena a dada altura?
Será que isso me fez perder amigos, desperdiçar momentos?

Apesar destas entradas e saidas em cena não posso esquecer as personagens que povoaram o palco da minha vida...
     Mas nunca...

Tenho vivido em dois países... Tenho estado entre pessoas e caras diferentes... Tenho 21anos de respiracoes ... Vários kilometros percorridos...
              E sei que resume se às entradas e saidas em cena.

drink

I don't drink. I might sip a bit of champaign or sangria but I don't drink. I hate how it alters people. I don't need alcohol to be altered. I just needed an excuse like lack of sleep. People use alcohol as an excuse to be themselves. Or someone they are not. People don't  get it. I don't trust people while they drink. I am not against drinking just over drinking.

Drinking breakes promises, it breaks families....

 And I have the right to be afraid. To feel hurt.

I love you when you aren't drinking.

snot filled and under a dark cloud

I feel sad. Doesn't seem like anyone cares I know I am with my  boyfriend but it's not the.end all. Plus he follows me because I bring  food.
 And what else is new? Well my dad has come and isn't the best house guest.     I am under a dark cloud.  I don't know if I still have friends. Friends are hard to  make try starting over in a new country just shy of 18. I had friends I tried showing them I care. Now I am just tiered lost in space.
Oh and I know for a fact that my flu is Canadian. Along with the maple syrup he brought me from Toronto he also transported this flu with him last Sunday.
 Just off the plane and what are the first two things he said to me after not seeing his only daughter for a year?
Hi and after I tried to give him a kiss no no you know I don't like lipstick yuck vampire.
   For while now I have been under a dark cloud. Not one choir rehearsal goes by where I don't think about quitting and yet I still try to give my best though disheartened.  Friends I had now have other friends. I know so little about their lives. I am the last one to know anything even fro, my prince -in-socks .
Feeling disheartened with school . What's the point  I already have my ba. Still some days I try to understand and try to make sense of it.
One safe person now blabbed to his parents.
I envy those who have birthday s mine is considered to be a part of Christmas...
My stuff isn't selling... my site is at a stand still... and now with the buying of Lord lapis lazuli's manor my foreign affairs minister sais I must be present as I am heir to lapis lazuli in all things good but mainly bad....
Perhaps I have turned into the snot caught bubble of a cloud....

 Sometimes silence is but the loudest of all screams

Aquela que está por baixo da Rosa

Sim minha querida. Mais um sonho contigo...

Desta vez ias casar.

Sim quem diria que agora sonho com duas personagens amigas/ ou amigáveis que se tornaram em presenças protectoras nos meus sonhos...

Enfim...

PS How do I get my Sista' Bá-Back?

:'( 

A writer, a poet

I read the poems from this site before I met my teacher  http://poemsfromtheportuguese.org/Margarida__Vale_de_Gato
I didn't know if I would like her or not but I was decided not to go to class without at least having googled her. So that is what I did and I found her poetry. I spoke to me on a personal and perhaps on an activist level. No I didn't like all the poems. I didn't have to. I like these ones in particular because she translates them herself. Anyone who has translated anything that is literary knows how hard it is to do but when you translate your own literary work you come as close as you can to having the same voice in the original as in the translation. It's a different voice but it is always yours.

So I liked a poem or two.

Then I had a semester of classes. I got to know the teacher behind the poetry, the spirit. It was fascinating.
Somedays were tough, others were better. Somedays it was best to keep quiet. All in a very interesting semester.

I'm writing again!!!

Yes. I am back to writing and it feel wonderful to just sit infront of the computer and write things that come from my imagination. This time I am trying to be a little literary since I did have one literature class. Plus it did get me thinking.

I am on Wattpad!!! yes i am.

And here is the link to my new story. Feel free to leave comments here or on there.

http://www.wattpad.com/32279134-my-name-is-mafalda-chapter-1?d=ud

My story is called My Name is Mafalda.
Right now the idea is to write a diasporic text about a young woman accepting her identity and blossoming into a person who falls in love.
The idea is still very basic but I am working on it.

Morning

Morning

Early morning

Still a starry night

Stars still shinning

Ever so bright

On the horizon

Nothing but faded yellow green light

Early mornings

Late goodnights

Songs of worry

Songs of might

Early mornings

Starry lights

Pacing, pacing to a melody

Pacing, pacing to a rhythm that is free

Listening to every step

One step closer to the sound of my soul.

Much worry little sleep

Not enough silence to count sheep

Steps and steps and more steps again

Just to be at square one once again

Rhythms of cities, of busy streets

Only silence in musical sheets

Pacing once more

Steps on every kind of floor

Starry morning

In my sight

Starry morning

Wish it was night.

     First-Rose-of-Winter Gouveia

October 10^th 2013

Portugal