Through the Breaking
She stood between the cracks,
As far as she could see;
whistling out of reach.
Those beautiful clouds,
Could make any mess disappear. . .
© Maria Fokas/July 24, 2016 – Dublin/All Rights Reserved
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
Which starts with enchantment –
Which belongs to no one,
Which devours its expectations
Which feels unique at first glance
Which abides by no rules
Which traps itself in passion
Which begins to fear its existence
Which shares a weakness to stray
Which keeps secrets from itself
Which lies beneath the sins of a broken heart
Forbidden friendship; which is deadly to the touch
© Artist Credits Unknown
Illustration Editing M.F.
Racing through in slow motion, the ticking of time.
I cannot speak today;
A ruthless sharp haste to my beating heart.
Chaotic throbbing of a grand mistake.
The difference between love, and love –
An ill confusion;
Misconceptions of a mystery.
In explanations, it disappears;
Time to say goodbye –
Oh why, am I lacking such a skill?
What keeps a heart wrapped around an evil hope?
Is it the way his words hold on, when he pushes me away?
Or his silent presence, lurking endlessly in my head?
Does he ever feel pain, when he hurts me?
In a faint whisper, I heard someone say;
“You always hurt, when you hurt the one you love.”
The difference between love, and love –
© Credits: hair-drawing Christopher Straver
Thought of the Day by Maria Fokas
– 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.
Scars Set in Stone by Maria Fokas
Just because you buried our journey
Does not make it disappear
Just because you have forsaken me
Does not mean you never loved me
That I have succumbed to defeat
Does not mean I wanted to leave
Your silence never depicted indifference
As my smile did not prove a trace of hope
Of stories which trouble the heart
In words which sicken the soul
Everywhere an abundance of woe:
A half-finished love affair bound to crucifixion
A misdeed triggered to destroy a kind gesture
A deserted dream to leverage false sense of balance
Courage disintegrates in glass boxes of loose ties
Day races by as night pricks through the cracks of dawn
Oh, but to deny one’s place in this world
That would be the greatest crime of all
© Maria Fokas 2015/All Rights Reserved/Photograph by Maria Fokas [Paleokastritsa – Corfu]
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]
Shattered Pieces of Time by Maria Fokas
Last night, you held my hand
We flew below a golden sky
At a distance a faint melody
A familiar touch; a soft sigh
Out of my sleep; Uncertainty
Has love been cursed again?
All possibilities fade away
No expectations; no apparent fears
My eyes tire; I can barely recall
In a world where time is scarce
Why do we dwell in losing?
[Love that alters when alteration comes
was never love at all]
But . . . my friend.
© Maria Fokas 2015/All Rights Reserved – Photography: Neel 02/01/2015 Abstract Photography
There are moments in life you don’t want to edit . . . because time is of the essence . . .you want to capture the moment …embrace it….and hold on to it as tightly as your heart can stand it . . .Sometimes the raw moments of life are also the truth that reminds us that we are alive but any moment it can all change . . . Oh, the inevitable truth that we are so temporary . . . the fear of whether we will be remembered when we are gone . . . and the knowing that as is now, we still have time to make a difference in someone’s life . . . make it a good one . . . a voice whispers in my head . . . regardless . . . make it worth being here for them . . . and don’t worry so much about being perfect . . . sometimes the worst thing you can do in life is waste precious time editing it!
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