Published by

Fernando Mendes Lima Moura

I\'ve been published a couple of times, got 2 books in Portuguese, one of Brazilian Sonnets and a short novel, and one in English, also Brazilian Sonnets... What\'s a Brazilian Sonnet? Not just a Sonnet written in Brazil or by a Brazilian... It\'s a new form of Sonnet I\'ve been using... 14 lines in 4 stanzas, just like the original, except the stanzas have 5, 4, 3 and 2 lines. You can also complete the sequence with a 1 line stanza. also, the order of the stanzas is not fixed, and the choice may be used to represent something... Like, for instance, since the number 3 is related to immutability, you might discuss immutability using lines with 3 syllables and/or in a 3 line stanza... My first book, 6 Passos 44 Centímetros, and my third, Alphabetical, are both composed of 44 of these poems each.

A Cold Hug3.7 (73.33%) 3 votes

I feel the breeze that turns to wind And see the rain that turns to snow. I feel the cold, walking alone, Start to speed up to stop shivers, With the songs I just wrote singing.

Stepping harder, becoming slow, A thin white coat … Continue reading A Cold Hug

Sand Glass FireRate this poem

I turn you and wait, And see you fall straight As air fights its way.

Black and light it moves, And the sight, it soothes. Makes one fly from rues, As time glides by crude.

Might make fruits or trees, Bodies nude, or just knees. … Continue reading Sand Glass Fire

A Damp Drunken SwimRate this poem

I sing. I sang. I drink. I drank.

I swam. I’m damp. I’ll dry. Be spry I’ll drink ’till then.

Laying, crying about my city, trashed completely, I stay. I lay.

But this I think While my air bed begins to sink I have … Continue reading A Damp Drunken Swim

800 BricksRate this poem

On the backs of the mountains In little wiggly houses Their life and their samba live The children, men and women Which will in the mud swim

The mud that runs down so strong And that stops by luck alone For the absence of a wall … Continue reading 800 Bricks

Red BugRate this poem

I saw many adventures Of a tiny insect, On every single night, On every single day.

With simple overtures, Which people could expect, Yet, still causing delight.

A man whose heart is pure And always so direct,

With so little power, Mostly gets himself wrecked Fighting … Continue reading Red Bug