Costmary

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryThe Eyes of A Cloud Costmary23 years 5 months ago
StoryHabits Costmary03 years 5 months ago
StoryAleph Costmary03 years 5 months ago
StoryThe Watchmaker's Song Costmary06 years 1 month ago
StoryBetween lives Costmary06 years 7 months ago
StoryBefore the rest of us becomes the dust carried by light beams Costmary08 years 1 month ago
StoryThe Woman and the Violin Costmary28 years 1 month ago
StorySubjective mind: reason or treason Costmary08 years 1 month ago
StoryResurrection Costmary29 years 4 months ago
Storywhispering... Costmary010 years 6 months ago
StoryDon't Bend over the Train Window Costmary010 years 6 months ago
StoryThe book of the prodigal son’s daughter Costmary010 years 12 months ago
Story[missing snow] Costmary010 years 12 months ago
StoryRupestrian Costmary610 years 12 months ago
StoryThe Black Chest of Drawers Costmary011 years 8 hours ago
StoryVespers Without Bells Costmary211 years 21 hours ago
StoryBy Themselves Costmary211 years 21 hours ago
StoryEmbossing Costmary411 years 21 hours ago
StoryMembership luigi_pagano611 years 1 day ago
StoryForensic Medicine Costmary011 years 1 day ago
StorySocrates and the number 30 Costmary011 years 1 day ago
StoryI Shall Commit Suicide Another Time Costmary011 years 2 days ago
StorySometimes I see shiny green glass Costmary211 years 2 days ago
StoryThoughts About Poetry Costmary011 years 2 days ago
StoryBaroque Painting: a strict moral code, asserted with buoyancy Costmary011 years 2 days ago

My stories

The Eyes of A Cloud

Once upon a time, there was a cloud. He was alone in an unknown land. He didn't even know how he was born. He did not know when he came there. But...

Habits

Good evening, your highness. How is your sleep now in winter? When leafless walnut trees show their smooth gray bark, Effectively when all the trees...

Aleph

To be old and white And not ashamed to walk in the rain with a black umbrella, To be obviously painted in white Like an old-fashioned mill, So white...

The Watchmaker's Song

I. The first dream and the first chant of the young watchmaker It is only this wind’s chant Steeping deep in my ears The enchanting flowers blooming...

Between lives

it might have been that once upon a time, between lives, I grew long fingers like icicles, as a piano player, I strolled along like the whisper of an...

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Is it life, is it death, is

Posted on Wed, 24 Jun 2015

Is it life, is it death, is it still-life? I like this kind of poems where real things are endowed with special meaning. It is emotion through banality, it is like blooming an otherwise non-magical picture. It is also a hint of mystery...

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Posted in Waiting