When You Are Old


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

Scars Set in Stone


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 … Continue reading Scars Set in Stone

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 … Continue reading The Passion of a Writer’s Pen

The Sword


The Sword by Maria Fokas My mind in helpless roam Antique dreams and harp whispers; Between losing and winning Hearts wintered in leaves that float ashore Shallow rays of dizzy lights – Mirrored in the dead of night I close my eyes again; The sword falls from my hand A word sharper than a sword Before we turn to stone. © Maria Fokas 2015/All Rights Reserved / Image: Gladiaotor/Warrior Stock Photos.com Continue reading The Sword

Wheel of Fortunes


Wheel of Fortunes by Maria Fokas I woke up this morning; what a grand thing, to make it through the night. In all generalities, abstractions, and summaries, I can hear the ticking of life: The touch, the scent, and the taste of you, woven in my fairytales – And there, lies the generality of beauty – And there, lies the abstraction of love. Sketched in the mother of time; the secrets of our fate. © Maria Fokas 2015/All Rights Reserved  –  Art Photography by Julie-de-Waroquier Continue reading Wheel of Fortunes

The Flame


The Flame by Maria Fokas Like an Empress of Time, the Flame distorts the mind, dancing her seductive dance, as the wood crackles with each breath. But who keeps track of what is lost, as time goes by. The walls kindle in deep maroon, and time stands still again, then disappears into a darkness, and I dream of impossible things; of distant oceans, under the seas, with gentle crests of endless waves. Soft ripples that caress the sand, then retrieve back into the sea with a soft melody – hidden in the stir of the flame: In a world far … Continue reading The Flame

In The Wake


In the Wake by Maria Fokas Your hand was not mine to hold, nor my lips, yours to kiss – But in that world, I held your hand, and you kissed my lips. Through a dark current; you drew in a path; An epiphany soared within a gush of promises. And before me, a wraithlike image distracts my wake. Unbidden streams of clauses – lacing bare-scented gestures. I render the smile in your eyes, the accent in your voice, And everything you claimed that was mine. That path; deep-seated, between the distance of land and sea; How unfortunate that temporal … Continue reading In The Wake

House of Pain


 House of Pain by Maria Fokas  In the house of pain the music plays softly. There are books scattered in every corner of each room. The lights are always dimmed but the scented candles never lit. There is writing on the walls: Beware things could be Worse – In the house of pain no one complains about silly things like the taste of food. A stormy day is one when we do not listen, The hour of fun is one when we do not speak. In the house of pain there are no cries in the middle of the night … Continue reading House of Pain

The Shadow of the Former Self


The Shadow of the Former Self By Martin Hanley The shadow of the former self is out there now forever seeking. The sitter seated accused amused is forever longing for pastures fleeting. Through pain and torment to save your soul, a spoken law is a hidden roll. The blood that speaks, two hearts that whisper; a golden crown for night’s own sister. All masks removed, all races run for now is the echo of a passing sun. It was never who we truly were but, who could listen and break the mold. And although that orb still shines all day, … Continue reading The Shadow of the Former Self