passion

An Emerald Wish


wish-1-final-pic

An Emerald Wish by Maria Fokas

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.

© Maria Fokas/October 28th 2016 – All Rights Reserved: Photography by mariafokas

Compassion for Time


Compassion for Time

Compassion for Time by Maria Fokas

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 -

© Maria Fokas/June 13th 2016 – Dublin/All Rights Reserved – Photograph: Maria Fokas

Underwater Waves [4]


Stuart Stevenson 2

                                            [Flash Fiction Chapter Four]

Underwater Waves by Maria Fokas


Was it not yesterday?

Here, yesterday is the past; and the past is gone.

No . . . something that haunts you day and night, is never gone.

Her patience abandons her, and madness takes hold of her like a tempest. She will rage against everything she believes to be destroying their paradise. She forgets the truth. She shuts her eyes to her cowardice. In her fairytale she is free; only life filled with vivid colors of youth, and the scent of spring in every scene. And in this lonely place, she was not so alone. The sky knelt down to welcome her smile, as her eyes fixed upon the sun-rays of a new day. She felt a soft breeze, and then a faint melody; the melody of a mockingbird; familiar sounds, but nothing real. Then one by one, those forgotten bits and pieces resurface.

She recalls all those things along the way. The gestures of love; the song of hope. He was a compass of dreams, a philosopher of thought, and she, the goddess of his make-believe. And in the quiet of the night, he sang to her with his laughter as she danced to the chant of his sweet delight. She caressed his pain; sometimes with kindness, and sometimes with silence; and in his endless disbelief, she bore his storms. She had become a friend to a stranger from another world; a world cursed to never be.

Between you and me; The bridges . . . The walls . . . And when they said it was impossible, we showed them how it could be done –

A while, and then halfway before her end, that which she thought had destroyed her paradise, was the thing that saved her. And it was never his fault. It was she who willed him to leave; she feared to dream, so she pushed him away to protect him from her pain. She hoped that he’d betray her; she begged for it to happen, and when he’d refuse, she’d disappear to punish him. He had to be her villain, but he was not. He was a kind man searching for hope. He told her, it would be a struggle, but they would get through it in the end – Oh, and he did try to save her in every way, but some souls cannot be saved my love.

To go back to that day, when trust destroyed her; the day he left with a promise to return, but never did –

To be continued . . .

 

© Maria Fokas/May 18th 2016/All Rights ReservedPhotograph Credits: Stuart Stevenson

Underwater Waves [3]


Harry Fayt

                                           [Flash Fiction Chapter Three]

Underwater Waves by Maria Fokas

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 . . .

 

© Maria Fokas/May 16th 2016/All Rights Reserved – Photograph Credits: Harry Fayt

 

Underwater Waves [2]


 Harry Fayt 2 new                                           [Flash Fiction - Chapter Two]

Underwater Waves by Maria Fokas

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 survive 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 . . .

© Maria Fokas/May 15th 2016/All Rights Reserved – Photograph Credits Harry Fayt

Underwater Waves [1]


paco peregrín photography 22                                      [Flash Fiction - Chapter One]

Underwater Waves by Maria Fokas

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 . . .

 

 

© Maria Fokas/May 13th 2016/All Rights Reserved – Photographer Credits: Paco Peregrín

 

The Heart of The Moon


Moon-fairy

The Heart of the Moon  by Maria Fokas

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.

© Maria Fokas/May 9th 2016/All Rights Reserved –

 [Photo Credits: Moon Fairy Fantasy]

 

 

Moved Silently


moved-silently

Moved Silently by Maria Fokas

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.

 

© Maria Fokas/May 2nd 2016/All Rights Reserved – Photo Credits: Unknown

 

 

 

Escape


Giovanni final 2

Escape by Maria Fokas

Surrendering,

The heart believes

Reflections in deceit;

Piercing into a mist for truth,

Redemption comes with a kiss.

 

© Maria Fokas/April 3rd 2016/All Rights Reserved – Credits: Photo © Giovanni del Papa

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.

© Maria Fokas/March 18th 2016/All Rights Reserved