love

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]

 

 

 

 

Black and White



©Yucel Basoglu

Black & White

 The grandest love story ever told;

Born out of each other; into every form.

Disguised to prevail against each other:

A hidden compass in my heart for your voyage –

Your waking choices, and your sleeping adventures;

And in this world; connected by the mask of time –

He seeks the reflection of all things in majestic balance.

He refers to the ice-burg as a wasted truth;

A mountain that touches the sky; upside down, he claims –

And that same sky on the other side,

Will never touch the sands beneath the oceans of you.

And though you are bound to change,

With every change of every moment –

You are still the same, my Love.

Oh, and how the Sun loved the Moon:

Forever devoted to crossing paths, but never to touch.

And some day I will know; some day in the ink of your thoughts –

And you will paint the darkness in my eyes with the light in yours.

Some day, the pauses between our notes will be soothed by your smile.

For what is music without rest between the melodies of notes?

Oh, how selfish must love become before it turns into hate;

And back into love again . . . but I have nothing to declare.

Some day I will know all the things that were left unsaid.

In laughter, and in cries –

In caress, and in vice –

You are the center of all things.

But in the end,

I may doubt all but one; you were my spark, and I your darkest joy –

– How our world would have been different,

If we could have agreed; at least on that.

 

 – Photograph by ©Yucel Basoglu

 

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.

 

Everything and Nothing – Day One


Eternal love 6

Thought of the Day by Maria Fokas

Happiness Abound

A simple thought I woke up to today. . . If you are not happy alone, you will probably never be happy with anyone else. A relationship is not meant to cater your wants, or to fill any black holes others may have scarred you with. A relationship is meant to celebrate the senses of life in the most imaginative ways, as you share yourself with another human being – to create paths together where there were none before – Now, that sounds like happiness! Let’s suppose this is the secret to every successful relationship, and see what happens; what do you think? Does it sound like I know what I’m talking about? Well, just for the record . . . I know nothing.

 

© Maria Fokas/March 6th 2016/All Rights Reserved –

Wild is the Wind


Wild is the Wind

               

Wild is the Wind

Tame me with your broken heart.
Embrace me with your lips;
– You have been all things to me.
In the innocence of love; In the dusk of dreams;
– You have been all things to me.

 

© Maria Fokas 2016/All Rights Reserved –Altered Illustration by M. F.

Sweet Silenced


Martin Hanley new

Sweet Silenced by Maria Fokas

The spaces we meet by chance; Sweet Silenced.
A beam, a weep, a spark glowing into the night,

[A glimpse of no end; up – side – down]
Reflections throb; I fade my eyes; a fragile gesture of might.
Trapped inside this deed: an Earnest unwavering day.
Shadows of seeded dreams, await that yearning.

Among those ardent Sorrows –
A gift of passing through; the everlasting Memory of you.

 Photograph by Martin Hanley

Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage


BMC

[There is a pleasure in the pathless woods] George Gordon Byron

   There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
   There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
   There is society where none intrudes,
   By the deep Sea, and music in its roar:
   I love not Man the less, but Nature more,
   From these our interviews, in which I steal
   From all I may be, or have been before,
   To mingle with the Universe, and feel
What I can ne’er express, yet cannot all conceal.

   Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean--roll!
   Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;
   Man marks the earth with ruin--his control
   Stops with the shore;--upon the watery plain
   The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain
   A shadow of man’s ravage, save his own,
   When for a moment, like a drop of rain,
   He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan,
Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown.

   His steps are not upon thy paths,--thy fields
   Are not a spoil for him,--thou dost arise
   And shake him from thee; the vile strength he wields
   For earth’s destruction thou dost all despise,
   Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies,
   And send’st him, shivering in thy playful spray
   And howling, to his gods, where haply lies
   His petty hope in some near port or bay,
And dashest him again to earth: —there let him lay.

We Have Not Long To Love


Photograph by Maria Fokas

We Have Not Long To Love By Tennessee Williams

We have not long to love.
Light does not stay.
The tender things are those
we fold away.
Coarse fabrics are the ones
for common wear.
In silence I have watched you
comb your hair.
Intimate the silence,
dim and warm.
I could but did not, reach
to touch your arm.
I could, but do not, break
that which is still.
(Almost the faintest whisper
would be shrill.)
So moments pass as though
they wished to stay.
We have not long to love.
A night. A day….
 
 

The Passion of a Writer’s Pen


The Passion of a Writer's Pen

The Passion of a Writer’s Pen by Maria Fokas

A sword to pierce my heart for every tide
I spit out a raw escape in a gasp of thought
To mark specks of profound recklessness
To feel the bleeding heartbeat of my fingertips
To taste the dread of a struggling shadow
To hear the whispering force of a lover’s birth
To lose oneself in every re-crossing sunset
A dream of the world; a gush of raging grace
From original light to final darkness
Stories bound to a hope of existence;
My cry for life –

© Maria Fokas 2015/All Rights Reserved – Artwork: Whatever I see by WeirdSam/Abstract Photography

[A project for Matthew Chikono]

A Song for Sophia


A Song for Sophia

A Song for Sophia by Maria Fokas

To defame an honorable man
Is not in a woman’s nature
Excluding, a woman in love; of course
In rage she drowns in misleading ramble –
But when time has dimmed out
She takes back her heartless tone
And of all the outcomes her fury may bring
She hopes she made him smile –
Because; one thing she knows to be unshaken
Time runs out without a cause; without a glimpse of warning
We were one; once upon a time – it cannot be forsaken
Though a champagne path; without a sip to reminisce –
Yet what better way to be remembered, than that you loved
For you can bleed so long without a gust,
Before your heart tempers
And last, the sweet hushing calm –

© Maria Fokas 2015/All Rights Reserved – Photograph by Maria Fokas, at Corfu; Paleokastritsa