tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15807679782020626322011-04-21T18:57:18.131-07:00"Enmaquetando", sí, porque me gusta inventar palabras nuevas, crear sueños, imaginar fantasías, dotar de voz y sentimientos a los seres inertes e inanimados. La realidad nos rodea siempre con su materialismo, quizá por eso escribo, para poder soñar... Emma RosaEmmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03620645643200673826noreply@blogger.comBlogger81100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1580767978202062632.post-54621641837851452072009-05-17T05:10:00.001-07:002009-05-17T05:17:35.998-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xQCBu-bb0gI/ShAAEUNR0QI/AAAAAAAAAEc/zaLPEA2hzuU/s1600-h/marchica+enmaquetando.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xQCBu-bb0gI/ShAAEUNR0QI/AAAAAAAAAEc/zaLPEA2hzuU/s320/marchica+enmaquetando.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336765632577917186" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Llora un beso</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">en aquella esquina</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">de noches de verano</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">y retorna al mar</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">para convertirse en ola</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">junto a tu recuerdo</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Emma Rosa</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1580767978202062632-5462164183785145207?l=emmarrosarg.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Emmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03620645643200673826noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1580767978202062632.post-69779300081935289242008-01-21T08:59:00.001-08:002008-01-21T09:08:10.995-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_xQCBu-bb0gI/R5TPpUiIFMI/AAAAAAAAACk/m9mosSGulmQ/s1600-h/noche+estrellada++enmaquetando.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 290px; height: 226px;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_xQCBu-bb0gI/R5TPpUiIFMI/AAAAAAAAACk/m9mosSGulmQ/s320/noche+estrellada++enmaquetando.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157975782039491778" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Me encontró la noche deshojando recuerdos</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Y cada pétalo se convirtió en estrella</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Y cada lágrima se me volvió sonrisa</span><br /> <br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Ellas me iluminarán </span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Cuando el camino se torne oscuro</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Cuando las sombras lloren</span><br /> <br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Cuando me sienta sola…</span><br /> <br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Emma Rosa</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1580767978202062632-6977930008193528924?l=emmarrosarg.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Emmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03620645643200673826noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1580767978202062632.post-18675425665901177812008-01-19T14:44:00.001-08:002008-01-19T14:48:39.266-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_xQCBu-bb0gI/R5J9kkiIFLI/AAAAAAAAACc/VtiGECWEWjs/s1600-h/gorri%C3%B3n++enmaquetando.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_xQCBu-bb0gI/R5J9kkiIFLI/AAAAAAAAACc/VtiGECWEWjs/s320/gorri%C3%B3n++enmaquetando.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157322590528214194" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Decía que volaba en sueños y se convertía en pájaro. Por eso no me sorprendí cuando un gorrión se posó en mi hombro y me guiñó el ojo. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Emma Rosa</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1580767978202062632-1867542566590117781?l=emmarrosarg.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Emmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03620645643200673826noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1580767978202062632.post-61040740601254042782008-01-19T11:13:00.000-08:002008-01-19T11:18:41.769-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_xQCBu-bb0gI/R5JMZUiIFKI/AAAAAAAAACU/kvepgIY7v5o/s1600-h/escritura3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_xQCBu-bb0gI/R5JMZUiIFKI/AAAAAAAAACU/kvepgIY7v5o/s320/escritura3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157268521184924834" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Si la imaginación es la magia que todos llevamos dentro,</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">la escritura es la varita que nos permite realizar nuestras fantasías.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Emma Rosa...</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1580767978202062632-6104074060125404278?l=emmarrosarg.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Emmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03620645643200673826noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1580767978202062632.post-31663305146619376042007-12-08T11:20:00.001-08:002007-12-08T11:31:29.983-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_xQCBu-bb0gI/R1rusgWXufI/AAAAAAAAACE/y-B_85gg1ow/s1600-h/sauces+opiniones.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 116px; height: 193px;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_xQCBu-bb0gI/R1rusgWXufI/AAAAAAAAACE/y-B_85gg1ow/s320/sauces+opiniones.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141684372962261490" border="0" /></a><br />Entonces...<br />Le crecieron ramas al viento<br />y escuché el murmullo en verde<br />de tus palabras.<br /><br />Emma Rosa<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1580767978202062632-3166330514661937604?l=emmarrosarg.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Emmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03620645643200673826noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1580767978202062632.post-68761506445650007962007-09-19T09:05:00.001-07:002007-09-19T09:20:16.950-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_xQCBu-bb0gI/RvFKTzGSGEI/AAAAAAAAABg/8AhIwZKLxJ8/s1600-h/PHTO0134.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_xQCBu-bb0gI/RvFKTzGSGEI/AAAAAAAAABg/8AhIwZKLxJ8/s320/PHTO0134.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111948756036753474" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Se me emancipó la sombra. Se marchó diciendo que estaba cansada de arrastrarse detrás de mí y que quería vivir su propia vida.<br /><br />Emma Rosa<br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1580767978202062632-6876150644565000796?l=emmarrosarg.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Emmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03620645643200673826noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1580767978202062632.post-33738832301900711142007-09-17T06:37:00.000-07:002007-09-18T16:29:05.292-07:00<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_xQCBu-bb0gI/Ru6DfH5jqxI/AAAAAAAAABQ/x-4qyTZg9Lw/s1600-h/besos.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_xQCBu-bb0gI/Ru6DfH5jqxI/AAAAAAAAABQ/x-4qyTZg9Lw/s320/besos.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111167197831736082" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Y la palabra: Amor </span><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /> fue rebotando</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"> de tus labios a los míos... </span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Y se hizo beso.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Emma Rosa</span><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1580767978202062632-3373883230190071114?l=emmarrosarg.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Emmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03620645643200673826noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1580767978202062632.post-83772758963336650972007-09-14T17:15:00.001-07:002007-09-14T17:22:06.450-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_xQCBu-bb0gI/RuskTn5jqwI/AAAAAAAAABE/0QGHgC72_n8/s1600-h/puerta_main1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_xQCBu-bb0gI/RuskTn5jqwI/AAAAAAAAABE/0QGHgC72_n8/s320/puerta_main1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110218121728469762" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /><br /><br />Porque detrás de una puerta</span><br /> <br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"> abierta a los sentimientos</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">siempre brotará una luz</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">que te ilumina el camino.<br /><br /><br />Emma Rosa<br /></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1580767978202062632-8377275896333665097?l=emmarrosarg.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Emmahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03620645643200673826noreply@blogger.com3