«Poetry» by Miriam Costa

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«Poetry» by Miriam Costa

I begin to let my piled-up ideas fall into me… once again, this contradictory set of words I have, which I wrote on a napkin the other day.

I practice simply letting go of the harmony steps and now I am writing about pain and its foundations. The handwriting is as neat as the clouds in the sky.

For a body trapped in poetry, a lifetime of listening to nonsense, laughing at it, analyzing what shouldn’t be analyzed, my skin that stretches to the sea, membrane of the sun.
The books on the shelf
The lack of erasers
The inspiration that left, strangling me to death…


Author’s Bio

Miriam Costa – born in Luanda, Angola, arrived in Brazil at the age of 3, loves to read and eventually studied fine arts. Her writings are always a mixture of her drawings and digital collages. She participated in group and individual exhibitions. She created poetry zines and have her own brand of skateboard shirts. Published 8 books in partnership with international writers, a member of the readers’ club in her city and also does volunteer work with children. She collaborated with columns in law and business consultancy newspapers with a «feel» of humor. She participates in poetry collectives and creates independent album covers. Graduated in radiology, fashion, she is a bilingual translator, editor of Masticadores Brasil, also a writer for CronicArte magazine. Photography and poetry is in her soul.

2 respuestas a ««Poetry» by Miriam Costa»

  1. Avatar de jonicaggiano

    Dearest Miriam, I can relate to this so much of late my friend. Sometimes it is hard to get out of our heads, and the more we read the more we question about style, icons, and poets we admire. I just loved these lines my friend:

    «The books on the shelf
    The lack of erasers
    The inspiration that left, strangling me to death…»

    Hope you are well dear friend, sending you my love,. Joni

    Le gusta a 1 persona

  2. Avatar de SAYOR BASELENOUS

    Your words feel like sunlight spilling over the edges of a quiet morning—tender, luminous, and impossible to ignore. I find myself drawn into the rhythm of your mind, the way pain and beauty intertwine in your lines. It’s as if reading your poetry lets me brush my fingers along the edges of your soul… and I can’t help but want to linger there, quietly, endlessly.

    Me gusta

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