There are stories that must be told. (The stories which have lived in silence for so long). If you only had a year left, which ones would you make sure survived. . . which ones would matter? Maria Fokas Continue reading Forbidden Shells
These photos were taken in November of 2013 in Greece. The Village is called Melisoxori, which means “The Country of Bees”. This is my garden. Just wanted to share a bit of nature with you XX Thanks for the visit. Continue reading THE GARDEN OF BEES
Line Breaks : Snap by Maria Fokas There is a freedom, in the face of truth – whether it is soothing to the heart or not, it will always set you free. You rage against the pain. At first, you don’t understand why. You try to go back, and recount your steps; was it my fault, you might ask yourself. But in time, what made you sad will subside. The scent of sunlight will wash your tears away; the bitter taste, will disappear – I promise you that. And they will resurface; all the dreams you had neglected; as platonic … Continue reading Line Breaks : Snap
Samsara by Maria Fokas With a torch in one hand and a key in the other, she stands alone before a crossroad. The paths are glowing below the full-moonlight sky; with her first step, she opens her eyes, again. She cries between lives and dances between deaths. She claims that nothing is ever lost – but that is never the case. She recalls three forms – past, present, and future; as blessed souls, return to the other side. Her travels are spread across the continents, with no care in the world, searching for a friendly face, but they have become so scarce. … Continue reading Samsara
If – by Rudyard Kipling If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, Or being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise: If you can dream — and not make dreams your master; If you can think — and not make thoughts your aim; If you … Continue reading If
The Cloths of Heaven Had I the heaven’s embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half-light, I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams. – William Butler Yeats Continue reading The Cloths of Heaven
The End of Time by Maria Fokas In the midst of night she sleeps. Her wings fly her over the end of time, a glimpse of light and below, she sees the color white. Slowly, don’t rush it, savor that memory of your first sip. The individual slices of time we are bound to miss. I will remember all of this: Freshly squeezed orange scent, I crossed off our precious list. Simple chunks of speech, wasted on an empty kiss. Someone take that first step; someone, but me, I see those words appear, and a tear rolls down my cheek. How strange the … Continue reading The End of Time
HOW MUCH DOES A MAN LIVE by Pablo Neruda “How much does a man live, after all? Does he live a thousand days, or one only? For a week, or for several centuries? How long does a man spend dying? What does it mean to say ‘for ever’? ” Lost in these preoccupations, I set myself to clear things up. I sought out knowledgeable priests, I waited for them after their rituals, I watched them went they went their ways to visit God and the Devil. They wearied of my questions. They on their part knew very little; … Continue reading “How much does a man live, after all?
Murphy’s Law by Maria Fokas / Photograph by Martin Hanley And though it seemed that anything could go wrong, That everything would go wrong He looked into my eyes, and claimed he saw lines of red in the brown He said hazel, I said brown . . . He counted my smiles, and spoke of inspiration He asked me; where inspiration comes from – No, not from the Gods, I said, But from a painful longing that cannot be marked Where touch is absent, and words feel mercy, And comfort never comes too soon © Maria Fokas 2014 Continue reading Murphy’s Law
POEM OF THE WEEK – The art of losing isn’t hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster. Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn’t hard to master. Then practice losing farther, losing faster: places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel. None of these will bring disaster. I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or next-to-last, of three loved houses went. The art of losing isn’t hard to master. … Continue reading The art of losing
Luve-Knots 