freedom

Underwater Waves [1]


paco peregrín photography 22                                      [Flash Fiction - Chapter One]

Underwater Waves 

How long can you stay under water before it is the end of you?

Can you get used to the pain to the point where you don’t feel it anymore?

As long as there is hope that you will breathe again, you struggle to survive under the waves.

You know that if you stay too long you will suffocate, but you fall into a trance.

You numb your lucid voice which tells you that you will never survive the waves.

If you wait too long, you will never swim back up to the surface.

 

To be continued . . .

 

 

Photographer Credits: Paco Peregrín

 

The Heart of The Moon


Moon-fairy

The Heart of the Moon 

To seize the darkness of your mournful heart

In an enchanted weakness of wicked play

You lose yourself to a fruitless path

You fear to taste the scent of love

In the weeping of time

In the sorrow of love

Many will envy all that we created –

unavailing thoughts of a distorted past

With a thread to tie a knot

But you were never meant

To keep me in an invisible grip

I wanted to paint your beautiful soul

And I did

Though I slipped inside your hunger

And fell in too deep

The odds of a raging sea

For the brave who love with courage

An inconvenient heart

 Whether they change love, or love changes them

There is no resentment to overcome

In the mesmerizing glow of my maker

I wait for you each month; a flower for your soul to keep

But until you embrace your darkness –

You cannot bewitch the soul in me

And the howling of the wolves

which play in your sleep

Will never shed a tear

For the love,

You did not keep.

 [Photo Credits: Moon Fairy Fantasy]

 

 

Moved Silently


moved-silently

Moved Silently

I noticed him across the room.

Maybe an intoxication of habit in a civilized society;

Is it that people have stopped listening to each other?

But what made me notice;

That he listened, even before I began to speak.

He asked me how I felt.

A nostalgic moment; and he was there,

In a darkness beneath our thoughts, time stopped.

An Ode to holidays; no mood to contribute, I told him.

Those days just pass me by too, he replied –

With Imagine faintly in the background,

His embrace put my past to rest;

My heart found room for his perception of time.

He then wet my lips with red wine;

  With his hoarse voice, he gently touched my neck.

My demons for his dragons;

My days for his nights;

I surrendered to his dance as he pulled me into the light.

The dawning of change?

. . .

Amedeo once said,

 “Happiness is an angel with a serious face.”

 . . .

Beyond belief;

His smile, I will keep.

And he;

My dance.

 

 – Photo Credits: Unknown

 

 

 

My share of losing


By Elizabeth Lisa

                        [Painting by Elizabeth Lisa]

My Share of Losing 

If I suggest an answer to your everything,

You might praise me more than I deserve.

I may impress you for a little while,

Then, it will be gone;

And still, a mystery.

If I contaminate your thoughts with my tendencies,

I may haze an aching soul determined to escape;

Despite the welcome, in a glance of faith.

But if my hope gives way to your world,

It may come as a stranger in hesitating steps.

I have lost many things disguised in words.

Oh, but what I have won; Once upon a time –

So tonight, I dance beneath the midnight sky,

To celebrate my sweet defeat;

My share . . .

With no regrets.

 

 

Apple of Discord


Peter Cakovsky Artwork

               

Apple of Discord

Among the Gods,

There is no compassion.

A world crafted by a spotless mind,

Can have no keys to any gate –

Lust grows in their hearts,

To disguise their only need;

Among the Gods,

There is envy of mortality.

They sacrifice love for sensual intrigue,

To fool a mortal’s path.

But her mind was filled with scars; 

And her heart held his close; above all –

How unfortunate . . .

 That time was never on their side.

 

 

  [Artwork Credits: Peter Cakovsky]

 

 

 

 

Everything and Nothing – Day Three


The Art of Losing

Thought of the Day by Maria Fokas

The Art of Losing

– Elizabeth Bishop wrote: “The art of losing isn’t hard to master.”

With so much losing every day, it seems that we should be accepting it as an inevitable end; but we rarely do. Every time we fall in love with a moment, a unique person, or that life long accomplishment, its fragile end is always near; it seems.

– But what exactly is it that we grieve; the moment, the person, the accomplishment; or is it ourselves within that loss? Everything we’ve ever loved, and lost, has shaped us into who we are. So there cannot be a complete loss in losing; I keep telling myself.

– I am grateful for War, and Love Poets; they take refuge in the pain of losing, knowing our lives depend on it. We plunge into those worlds and embrace the darkness. When it’s war, we mourn, and when it’s love, it’s a beautiful depiction of life. With their words, we realize that we are not alone in our losing; maybe, we even give meaning to our loss.

A Poet’s muse marks a moment by opposing every norm of its time; it elevates love as the essence of truth, rendering it more precious within the element of loss.

But, about this destined precious existence with an inevitable end; I don’t want to master this art of losing.

 

Featherless Wings


Mother Nature

Photograph by Maria Fokas

Featherless Wings 

The branches dare to disturb;
Moving in a motion that tangles their world.
Their whispers; in the winds of passing seasons –
The fear of triumph is absent,
They are alive, that is their quest –
Conversations of love do not break their delicate wings.

Trees have wings?
Wings without feathers; fly by the scent of their leaves.
They capture the day, and stir the night.
No words to torture their souls –
They reflect on prolonged possibilities;
And drink from the songs of passers-by.

 

© Maria Fokas/ Feb 17 2016/All Rights Reserved

The Rain


Maria Fokas New 4

The Rain by Maria Fokas

Oh that gentle rain, aching to come back, time and again.
No warning to let you prepare.
Like a bow and arrow to ruin your day.
Can you plan around such a tease?

Oh sweet rain, running free . . .
I will keep your secret; and be grateful for thee. 
Happy to welcome that gentle drop;

On my lips, and down my neck;

To whisper . . .

I just like coming back –

© Maria Fokas/all rights reserved, and Photo Credits/ 2017

 

The Bridge Across the Sea


The bridge

The Bridge Across the Sea by Maria Fokas

On my death-bed, I say my last goodbye.
I do not utter his name; a forgiving tragedy;
And to his final question: I speak a lie.

I shall not shed another tear for the moments denied.
I shall not shed another tear for foolish twisted humanity –
I shall not shed another tear for that weakness to suppose.

Erase me from your past; . . . the years you have forsaken me –
Each genuine day;
Each generous hour;
A love I embraced: In pure desire, his lips I kissed –
Every bit of madness; the craziness that tempts the soul.
I took for caring: the longing, and the need –
Every plunge into the darkness of my fears;
The times we hid from that harsh world of ours;
The poetry they devoured; between our silence, and our words;
By your strife; my heart has turned to stone – Erase them all!

A fictitious reflection of me has passed away;
I did not utter his name, today.

I crossed the bridge; without his darkness in my arms;
I wish for no more time.

© Maria Fokas 2015/All Rights Reserved/Photograph by Maria Fokas [Dublin]