terça-feira, 14 de agosto de 2018

                                  Esquina. Do pensamento
                                               Esquina. Do pensamento
                                               Das noites que fogem-me
                                               dentro dos sonhos dormidos 
                                               Há relações vida que dão certo
                                               relações que são int(r)ocáveis
                                               e já passaram-se muitas luas
                                               Sou anjo disfarçado de gente
                                               asas abertas ao mundo
                                               atingindo píncaros do desejo
                                               Apago as estrelas dos céus
                                               da noite, vem dormir comigo
                                               Quero voltar a perder-me
                                               na tua pele, onde eu vagueio
                                               E deixo o sol nascer-me


                                                            Maria José Salles Callado / 14.08.2018
                                                            Foto: MJSC / Por: Beth Samos
                                                            Belo Horizonte / MG / Brasil

segunda-feira, 13 de agosto de 2018

                                  Espaço. Da noite
                                                Espaço. Da noite
                                                Do meu auto-retrato
                                                silêncio noite adentro
                                                na noite que nunca acaba
                                                na vadiagem dos sonhos
                                                aos meus olhos distraídos
                                                Um anjo vestido de demônio
                                                no vento solto da madrugada 
                                                Olhos do desejo, que marcam
                                                encontro dos nossos eus
                                                Quem somos? Somos o amor
                                                Pergunto-me? E tropeço nos
                                                desejos que sou


                                                              Maria José Salles Callado / 01.08.2018
                                                              Foto: MJSC / São Paulo - SP

terça-feira, 31 de julho de 2018

                                  Poema. Das Águas
                                                Poema. Das Águas
                                                Águas vastas do amor
                                                Do amor, um sol inconstante
                                                Do desejo incêndio das águas
                                                Sou dia grande, enorme de sol
                                                Amor imprevisível de um corpo
                                                Impulsos abrem minhas asas
                                                Quero acreditar no barulho
                                                dos pensamentos, meus
                                                Quero mais, demais, ou nada
                                                Chego chicoteada por ventos
                                                Emaranho-me em você
                                                Acordo contigo perto de mim
                                                Este dia, ou um dia qualquer
                                                Somos átomos d'um universo
                                                chamado amor


                                                             Maria Jose Salles Callado / 18. 07.2018
                                                             Foto: MJSC - Barcelona/ Spña 2011

quarta-feira, 4 de julho de 2018

                                            Há noite. Rua vazia
                                                             Há noite. Rua vazia
                                                             De luzes nos postes
                                                             que anestesiam-me
                                                             Ando na noite contigo
                                                             de mãos dadas
                                                             escuto céus azuis
                                                             Fica mais esta noite
                                                             e outras noites mais
                                                             Quero ser a tua casa
                                                             e que mores em mim
                                                             no céu das memórias
                                                             Quero visitar os sonhos
                                                             Formatar noites de amor
                                                             Acordar noites passadas
                                                             De alguém que me exista
                                                             dia inteiro, da noite inteira
                                                             Amor desejo que acaba
                                                             nunca...


                                                                                Maria José Salles Callado / 01.07.2018
                                                                                Foto - MJSC - São Paulo / SP
                                               Amor. Voo com Asas
                                                                 Amor. Voo com asas
                                                                 O que é o amor?
                                                                 É o mais alto dos voos
                                                                 É o mais forte dos ventos
                                                                 Amor voo nas asas do outro
                                                                 Canto de uma rua qualquer
                                                                 Corpo onde não há mapas
                                                                 com dedos acariciar a alma
                                                                 mulher menina, fruta madura
                                                                 Amor vento que vai e vem
                                                                 De ficarmos sem chão
                                                                 De perdermos o fôlego
                                                                 Amor muda as cores do céu,
                                                                 do mar, da terra
                                                                 Tem gosto de cereja roubada
                                                                 de amoras selvagens
                                                                 na ligação das multiplicidades
                                                                 na junção dos múltiplos eus
                                                                 A estrada permanecerá viva


                                                                                    Maria José Salles Callado / 24.06.2018
                                                                                    Foto - MJSC - São Paulo / SP

segunda-feira, 18 de junho de 2018

                                            Amanheces. Em mim
                                                             Amanheces. Em mim
                                                             nos incontidos desejos
                                                             Tu vens? Pássaro em voo
                                                             na árvore de raízes da terra
                                                             de um rio a procura do mar
                                                             longe do mar a canoa é triste
                                                             Quero te ter na virada da noite
                                                             tens gosto de cereja madura
                                                             sabor de um sorriso maroto
                                                             tu és minha grande história
                                                             tu me acordas o desejo
                                                             nos arrepios da tua pele
                                                             Céu azulado, eis-me aqui
                                                             estrela do belo-horizonte

 
                                                                               Maria Jose Salles Callado / 07.06.2018
                                                                               Foto - MJSC - Strasbourg / France 2017
                                           Pedras. Da calçada
                                                            Pedras. Da calçada
                                                            Passos. Eis-me aqui
                                                            Distância tempo, ausência
                                                            porque não me trazes o sol?
                                                            Dia aberto
                                                            desço as calçadas
                                                            corrida desenfreada
                                                            Solitária
                                                            de encontros, desencontros
                                                            de chegadas, despedidas
                                                            Gosto do sol que bate nas
                                                            nesgas dos prédios altos
                                                            preciso sair para me encontrar
                                                            encontro-me no inesperado
                                                            da noite
                                                            até que nasça um outro dia
                                                            O que sei fazer? eu sonho.

                                                                             Maria José Salles Callado / 26.05.18
                                                                             Foto - MJSC - São Paulo / Brasil

sexta-feira, 11 de maio de 2018

                                           Viajo. Com os pássaros
                                                            Viajo. Com os pássaros
                                                            Viagem. Dentro de mim
                                                            e dividida com os pássaros
                                                            árvores despidas do Outono
                                                            pássaros, viagens, estações
                                                            amor instintivo, fome de amor
                                                            chão onde as asas crescem
                                                            enquanto o mundo dorme
                                                            mulher veste-se de poesia
                                                            os pássaros me acordam
                                                            nos cantos da madrugada
                                                            ouve-se barulho dos ventos
                                                            nos seus assobios, ruídos
                                                            nas janelas entreabertas
                                                            no silêncio agudo da noite
                                                            mulher, de penas eriçadas
                                                            vestida, amarelo-canário
                                                            entregue aos vendavais
                                                            escuto rumor da chuva
                                                            esbarro no sol invisível
                                                            a vida escorre nas ruas
                                                            sou um lugar, no tempo


                                                                             Maria José Salles Callado / 08.05. 2018
                                                                             Foto - MJSC - Ushuaia / Patagônia Argentina 2016

quinta-feira, 10 de maio de 2018

                                                  Rosto. Da noite
                                                                      Rosto. Da noite
                                                                      Da noite. De um dia
                                                                      Rosto, tempestade
                                                                      que escurece cabelos
                                                                      rosto á minha espera
                                                                      sorriso para os olhos
                                                                      beirais do sorriso linear
                                                                      quero sorrisos á soltas
                                                                      retrato de uma árvore nua
                                                                      dedos poemas da tua pele
                                                                      Debruço na noite, abro janelas
                                                                      vejo-te no azul-claro que pinta
                                                                      o céu
                                                                      Quero roubar-te de algum lugar
                                                                      Quem eu sou? Eu sou quem?
                                                                      Sou a tua ausência em mim
                                                                      que eu posso tocar...


                                                                                           Maria José Salles Callado / 26.04.2018
                                                                                           Foto - MJSC - Meu cantinho onde escrevo poesias / 2018
                                                                                           São Paulo / SP
                                               Sou terra. Dia dos sonhos
                                                               Sou terra. Dia dos sonhos
                                                               Há noite. E não me escutas
                                                               Trago um mundo para contar
                                                               Venho da terra dos sonhos
                                                               Habito casa de portões vermelhos
                                                               Adentro paredes descascadas
                                                               do dia de ontem
                                                               Andante dos pés valentes
                                                               Venho do tempo, da noite
                                                               Para ser um eu, mais eu
                                                               Frágil, inteira, completa
                                                               E olho-me no espelho
                                                               Cada noite espreito-me
                                                               Eu não posso adiar-me
                                                               Sou gente sem etiqueta
                                                               e sem preço.


                                                                                 Maria Jose Salles Callado / 26.03.18
                                                                                 Foto - MJSC - Deutschland /  Berlim 2017
                                            Embarcas. Em mim
                                                             Embarcas. Em mim
                                                             Sou cais de espera
                                                             Embarcas. No amor
                                                             Maresia, mar sem fim
                                                             Onde o sol esconde o mar
                                                             Onde crescem as ondas
                                                             Onde os ventos rodopiam
                                                             Prende-me em amarras
                                                             como um barco ao cais
                                                             És barco que atraca na terra
                                                             Do mar diurno, noite do amor
                                                             És vento que corta as areias
                                                             da praia
                                                             Eu sou porto das águas azuis
                                                             pedaço do grande cais
                                                             Há sempre uma réstia de sol
                                                             no horizonte interrompido
                                                             Quando os sonhos me fogem.


                                                                               Maria José Salles Callado / 19.03.18
                                                                               Foto - MJSC - São Paulo / SP 2017
                                                                               (...) No meu consultório em 2017
                                                                               quando meus sonhos corriam na
                                                                               minha cabeça, meus dedos escreviam poesias
                                                  Amor. invento-te
                                                                      Amor. invento-te
                                                                      Quase muito. Amor
                                                                      Invento quase tudo
                                                                      Amor quase momento
                                                                      Ainda, um quase tempo
                                                                      Amor um quase sempre
                                                                      Amor sempre um instante

                                                                      Do outro lado do espelho
                                                                      quero vestir-me de amor
                                                                      Conheço bem teu corpo
                                                                      quero desnudar-te sempre
                                                                      Eu te chamo por teu nome
                                                                      és madrugada do meu peito
                                                                      aquela fome do instinto
                                                                      Hei-de inventar-te
                                                                      em mim


                                                                                           Maria José Salles Callado / 09.02.2018
                                                                                           Foto - MJSC - Consultório Pediátrico SP/ 2017