Costmary

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryThe Eyes of A Cloud Costmary21 year 3 months ago
StoryHabits Costmary01 year 3 months ago
StoryAleph Costmary01 year 3 months ago
StoryThe Watchmaker's Song Costmary03 years 11 months ago
StoryBetween lives Costmary04 years 4 months ago
StoryBefore the rest of us becomes the dust carried by light beams Costmary05 years 11 months ago
StoryThe Woman and the Violin Costmary25 years 11 months ago
StorySubjective mind: reason or treason Costmary05 years 11 months ago
StoryResurrection Costmary27 years 1 month ago
Storywhispering... Costmary08 years 4 months ago
StoryDon't Bend over the Train Window Costmary08 years 4 months ago
StoryThe book of the prodigal son’s daughter Costmary08 years 9 months ago
Story[missing snow] Costmary08 years 9 months ago
StoryRupestrian Costmary68 years 9 months ago
StoryThe Black Chest of Drawers Costmary08 years 9 months ago
StoryVespers Without Bells Costmary28 years 9 months ago
StoryBy Themselves Costmary28 years 9 months ago
StoryEmbossing Costmary48 years 9 months ago
StoryMembership luigi_pagano68 years 9 months ago
StoryForensic Medicine Costmary08 years 9 months ago
StorySocrates and the number 30 Costmary08 years 9 months ago
StoryI Shall Commit Suicide Another Time Costmary08 years 9 months ago
StorySometimes I see shiny green glass Costmary28 years 9 months ago
StoryThoughts About Poetry Costmary08 years 9 months ago
StoryBaroque Painting: a strict moral code, asserted with buoyancy Costmary08 years 9 months 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