Author: Maria Fokas

Hello, I'm Maria and, I'm not here to talk about me, I'm here to talk about us.
Free Verse - Poetry Prose2 Comments

An Empty Page

Maria Fokas

An Empty Page by Maria Fokas There are many tragedies in life, and I am lucky not to have experienced many of them yet. But when I’m lost, I  pretend to be the center of this world; knowing I am not, and the painful secrets surface. I don’t think about those who are worse off than me. When it gets hard, should I be thankful that there are worse hardships out there? Using the unfortunate lives of others to make me feel better about my life, when life is difficult, is not a rational option for me. But I am guilty … Continue reading An Empty Page

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EMMA and her Sister

Maria Fokas

EMMA and her Sister by Maria Fokas She watched me as I took pictures of the castle of St John in the old town of Rhodes. Dressed in a white dress-like costume, and white powdered make-up covering her face, she sat before the gates, waiting for the tourists to flip a few coins in her brown cardboard box. I could not but notice the way she looked at me, and then she spoke:               –          You can take a picture of me if you’d like. –          What’s your name? –          Emma, she said with a … Continue reading EMMA and her Sister

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The Heart of a Poem

Maria Fokas

The Heart of a Poem by Maria Fokas Life is a poem;  entwined with endless dreams Words that leave behind a longing I cannot deny Waiting for his arrival – while knowing, he may never come Regardless of the promises – regardless of lost time The truth is always there, hidden between the pauses of his smile, Life is a seductive poem, captivated in wild dreams  – and in all its wonder I forgot that the beating of my heart will one day stop   Whether brief or long, this poem I speak of – makes no difference For it was … Continue reading The Heart of a Poem

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The Mannequin VII

Maria Fokas

 The Mannequin VII by Maria Fokas “You will never know what freedom is,” he said, as he switched off the lights. I think I felt the cold that night. And then I noticed that little girl, who keeps coming round with her mother; holding an ice cream cone in her hand. The little girl smiled, and pushed her mother’s hand away. Her ice cream dripped on her white shoelace. Her mother said, “No.” She said, “I don’t care.” I don’t care…Is that what will set me free? Continue reading The Mannequin VII