Tag: Poem of the week

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When You Are Old

Maria Fokas

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 … Continue reading When You Are Old

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We Have Not Long To Love

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….     Continue reading We Have Not Long To Love

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Love After Love

Maria Fokas

Love After Love by Derek Walcott The time will come when, with elation you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mirror and each will smile at the other’s welcome, and say, sit here. Eat. You will love again the stranger who was your self. Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart to itself, to the stranger who has loved you all your life, whom you ignored for another, who knows you by heart. Take down the love letters from the bookshelf, the photographs, the desperate notes, peel your own image from the mirror. Sit. Feast … Continue reading Love After Love

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To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time

Maria Fokas

  To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time By Robert Herrick Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying; And this same flower that smiles today Tomorrow will be dying. The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun, The higher he’s a-getting, The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he’s to setting. That age is best which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; But being spent, the worse, and worst Times still succeed the former. Then be not coy, but use your time, And while ye may, go marry; For having lost but once … Continue reading To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time

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The Cloths of Heaven

Maria Fokas

The Cloths of Heaven Had I the heaven’s embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half-light, I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.    –  William Butler Yeats Continue reading The Cloths of Heaven

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“How much does a man live, after all?

Maria Fokas

  HOW MUCH DOES A MAN LIVE by Pablo Neruda   “How much does a man live, after all? Does he live a thousand days, or one only? For a week, or for several centuries? How long does a man spend dying? What does it mean to say ‘for ever’? ” Lost in these preoccupations, I set myself to clear things up. I sought out knowledgeable priests, I waited for them after their rituals, I watched them went they went their ways to visit God and the Devil. They wearied of my questions. They on their part knew very little; … Continue reading “How much does a man live, after all?