Daniel Saint-John

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryHokusai Daniel Saint-John14 years 6 months ago
CollectionPoemotion Daniel Saint-John04 years 6 months ago
StoryI gaze upon Daniel Saint-John04 years 8 months ago
StorySecond miracle misskelizabeth811 years 3 weeks ago
StoryCommunion Daniel Saint-John212 years 1 week ago
StoryChristmas in Mexico Daniel Saint-John212 years 1 week ago
StoryBeing human Daniel Saint-John312 years 1 week ago
StoryBeautiful Daniel Saint-John012 years 1 week ago
StoryApril Daniel Saint-John012 years 1 week ago
Forum topicOlympics Daniel Saint-John712 years 1 week ago
Forum topicJ.K. Rowling and crime fiction, true? Daniel Saint-John1312 years 1 week ago
CollectionSongs for a fragile humanity Daniel Saint-John012 years 1 week ago
StoryThe streets of Paris Daniel Saint-John012 years 1 month ago
StoryLet there be another world Daniel Saint-John012 years 1 month ago
StoryPebbles, water, wind & toad Daniel Saint-John012 years 1 month ago
StoryMadrid Daniel Saint-John012 years 1 month ago
StoryPompeii Daniel Saint-John012 years 1 month ago
StorySometimes Daniel Saint-John012 years 1 month ago
StoryHow to write poetry Daniel Saint-John012 years 1 month ago
StoryHot sun Daniel Saint-John012 years 1 month ago
StoryWhispers in a Forest Natalia612 years 12 months ago
StoryFishing with dad Daniel Saint-John413 years 2 weeks ago
StorySometimes redux Daniel Saint-John413 years 1 month ago
StoryThe knife Daniel Saint-John113 years 2 months ago
StoryFraiser, Red Wine and Kid Cuisine ContinuityMistake313 years 3 months ago

My stories

I gaze upon

I gaze upon the world from my window the azure skies and fluffy cumulus from my window the cherry orchard with drops of crimson from my window the...

Fishing with dad

It is cold and I am sleepy. A moonless sky shines above our head, a slow sun climbing its way up from down deep in the horizon. The smell of living trout lives in the river,

How to write poetry

It is not enough that Maiakovski died for our sins, nor that walking down the shore he once rolled between his tongue the syllables of a roaring wave. I met the beach lifeguard.

Sometimes redux

Sometimes I believe I am still your thoughts That my eyes and their image disturb your dreams That you listen to my voice with the rattle of windchimes

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