existence

When You Are Old


 

When You Are Old by William Butler Yeats

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,

And nodding by the fire, take down this book,

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with love false or true,

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,

And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,

Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled

And paced upon the mountains overhead

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

Photograph Credits: Unknown

 

 

 

Suspended


light-in-the-darkness

Suspended

Sweet scented air,

In that flawless darkness.

Forever blazing wild;

Across the marauder sky.

A pulse in the break of quiet,

Of summer sadness hum.

Sweet scented air,

Between the folds of game.

Cities with dimmed lights,

Fading away.

Sweet scented air,

In my suspended hour.

Photo by: light-in-the-darkness | Source of Inspiration

An Emerald Wish


wish-1-final-pic

An Emerald Wish

Find that picture you once took . . . the one which captured a moment that seemed like any other, at the time. But looking back, you know better now. That picture which hides a gemstone that would take a thousand words to share; the one so special, you don’t dare give away. I can’t recall the exact wording of my wish that day, but who took me there, I will never forget;

Oh, that emerald field of magical whispers.

©  All Rights Reserved: Photography by mariafokas

Simple Things


mariafokas bird 2

Simple Things by Maria Fokas

Precious things to hold onto;

Moments we have loved.

With time still left,

To love some more.

A day, a decade, hopefully two,

And wishing for more.

Soaring through life for the simple things,

Thankful each day for your generosity.

Oh my love; now I see,

That in the river of dreams,

A taste of cloves, and lemon drops,

Is all I’ll ever need.

©All Rights Reserved – Photography by mariafokas.com

Through the Breaking


Malahide Castle

 

Through the Breaking 

She stood between the cracks,

As far as she could see;

A grace,

whistling out of reach.

Those beautiful clouds,

Could make any mess disappear. . .

 

© Maria Fokas/July 24th 2016 – Dublin/All Rights Reserved

 

The Chords of my Heart


Henry Asencio 1972 - Ameican Abstract Expressionists painter - Tutt'Art@ - (3)

The Chords of my Heart

From the back roads of my mind;

You tempt my heart to dance again.

You smiled, and said hello,

In the middle of nowhere.

And between the dark and the light,

The warmth of your touch –

Everything you are is new to me;

One more time;

The chords of my heart whisper.

Oh those blue eyes;

Hope in a starry night.

 

– Artwork: Henry Asencio

 

Compassion for Time


Compassion for Time

Compassion for Time 

The limitations of compassion,

Let me keep my heart intact.

I have touched your madness,

The curiosity for moments I cared;

But . . .

Those words made of ink,

 Will always be dark.

And words from whispers,

 Which come from the heart,

 Will always love.

All the struggles to survive;

In the distance between us -

But that bright light hiding within;
 

Never left your side -

So if you ever think back,

And for a split moment sigh;

Do not think twice, 

For you did not offend me.

It was our love which was sacrificed; 

Not us -

Nothing I felt was ever your fault; 

The waves do tend to lure.
 

Oh those experts full of words of wisdom;

Twist and turn the truths of time.

Respect the past, present, and what is to come.
 

For every moment is precious; may it be love or pain.

The past; compassion while we walk through thorns of time.

The present; for respect of the story we have yet to find.

The future; to keep hope alive for the moments we dare.

Strength and weakness go hand in hand.

Far from perfect; in the end.

For every day we change;

 But some things,

  I wish stayed the same -

© All Rights Reserved – Photograph: Maria Fokas

Must We Part?


St Stephan Park Dublin

Must We Part? 

Sunset lingered behind the clouds;

Rain drops; warm like the touch of hope.

Chants of birds, filled my heart with bliss.

Spellbound, by the green scented wind.

In the quiet park of dreams;

Whispers of poets; inventing thoughts.

How many poems were written here –

Who walked these paths –

Surpassing their every need;

Passions bound to never part.

 

© Maria Fokas/Photography Dublin/All Rights Reserved

 

When You Are Old


Leszek Paradowski

                                  Photograph Credits: Leszek Paradowski 

When You Are Old by William Butler Yeats

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,

And nodding by the fire, take down this book,

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with love false or true,

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,

And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,

Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled

And paced upon the mountains overhead

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.