Maria Fokas      

Underwater Waves [3]


Harry Fayt

                                           [Flash Fiction Chapter Three]

Underwater Waves 

The waves pursue your thoughts; they call you their master; their muse. They use words like, unique and genuine. They say, your beauty is rare, and your kindness is precious. Wild with fervor, they play with your mood in the dark of the night. They wet their lips with the thought of your aching needs; they tell you stories, claiming to have seen in the depths of your eyes. They captivate your essence in your every sigh; they wait for you to come in their dreams; they absorb your every gesture. They listen to the rhythm of your breathing; they tell you to let go of everything you knew to be true.

When your eyes turn away, they plead with you to not fear their erotic whispers; they tell you to close your eyes; to feel their energy as they caress your weaknesses. They promise to never harm you; they want only to protect you. They count your every smile; while you thought you only had one, they tell you otherwise. “Trust me, and succumb to your needs,” they whisper in the moonlit world they’ve created for you. You feel their pain, and promise to stay.

When you have proven your loyalty to the waves . . . to him . . . he begins the subtle questions; like, “Do you want me?” You say, “Yes.” Then he wants to know more;“but do you need me?” That question frightens you at first. You explain how important your freedom is to you; that expectations hinder love; that you don’t want to think about the future; only the now exists. This idea ignites a craze in him. He tells you that it will all turn into a need; and you must allow it to happen.

And as you lose bits and pieces of yourself each day, consumed and mesmerized by him, you become vulnerable to his every need. Soon enough, you’ve lost the power to protect yourself from all the things that make no sense. So you stop questioning the chaos and the weirdness, and succumb to his passions; Now you lose your moral values. You stop asking about the other woman he was playing with before he found you; the one he called “mad with fury”. You don’t question his games with women when you have to disappear; nor do you ask for explanations when you return. He tells you that all the others are merely a means to communicate with the outside world, and nothing more. Then he tells you stories about obsessive women he had to throw out of his sea.

 

To be Continued . . .

 

– Photograph Credits: Harry Fayt

 

Underwater Waves [2]


 Harry Fayt 2 new                                           [Flash Fiction - Chapter Two]

Underwater Waves 

Every time you attempt to bring yourself out of that deadly rest, the waves entice you to stay; and you fall back into the depths of their darkness. And with each fall, you lose more and more of who you are. Then you lose some more; first your time, then your friends. You begin to isolate yourself from everyone who loves you. They don’t understand how beautiful the waves are. You keep telling them how much the waves need you, and how you need them; and that if you ever left, the waves would be destroyed; words whispered to you in moments of passion, and times they feared you would disappear. But your friends are reluctant; they disapprove. They are unwilling to understand the beauty that you feel; the alluring-moonlit world you have fallen into; the taste of ecstasy. They cannot savor that soft melody of sadness of the waves’ soul, yearning to escape from madness. Your words are lost on them. You hope some day they too will know. But you will not let them take away this gift from you. You build the strongest walls to keep them away, and succumb to your waves as they move according to the moon and, the melody of the winds.

 

To be continued . . .

– Photograph Credits Harry Fayt

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]

 

 

 

 

My Darling


Burning Man

My Darling 

And this child within;

Sometimes gets trapped in thoughts:

“Wish I knew what his heart was feeling.”

Love is a wilderness that cannot be tamed.

This child within,

 Sometimes dances to his subtle tunes; it seems.

She plays with fire, the same way he plays with words.

This child within,

lives in the present with great respect for the past;

Everybody knows how to walk through fire.

But to recall a burning heart without the flame;

It takes a gypsy’s soul  –

This child within,

Surrendered to her anger, but her rage disappeared,

Before the hour-glass was through.

This child within remembers,

The times she held his hand when he was lost.

She recalls,

The sound of his voice when he said hello.

The touch of his lips . . .  she forgot;

But not the way he held her close.

And, sometimes she recalls,

His promise to protect her.

She also remembers his distrust;

His fear that she might one day disappear.

But most of all, that thing she can’t forget;

How much she still cares.

So you see, with such a past –

There is nothing to forgive,

My Darling.

 

 

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

 

Hamartia


Earth Day

Hamartia 

An eternity of holding onto the edge of her thoughts –

She leads me into her sorrows beneath her celebrated joys.

We play in the waves of her mood with the changing of her seasons.

I lose myself in her cries, when old scars hinder her needs.

Those gestures that delay her sleep, I can never change.

“What burns inside your heart today?” she whispers in the morning bask.

And I am grateful for her generous touch;

In all the memories of my todays,

Knowing she will never miss me –

In the chaos of her tomorrows.

 

Dedicated to the Earth Day

PicMonkey Collage TREE and DAD

At the foot of my father's birth place stands a one thousand-year old Tree. 

© Maria Fokas Photograph/All Rights Reserved –