The world, through my fingertips
Thoughtful concoctions of reality and fantasy
Make art
It’s free
And lasts forever
Write the story
Snap the photo
Paint the canvas
Sing the song
Dance the dance
Make the art
No matter the medium
Put your name on it
Shout as loudly as you can
Through your work
No matter how quiet you may be
If you’re lucky
You’ll pull a Vincent
And they’ll notice
Long after you’re gone
It cost you nothing
But has the capacity to be eternal
And you’ll never starve
If you make something that lasts forever
Because that’s the only sustenance
You’ll ever need
Straight as an Arrow
By: Stamatis Kakleas
The tangent lines
The lives we could have lived
But never did
Will pass us by
Or catch the wind
Day or night
Life on two paths
Cannot exist
We are straight arrows
Moving through space and time
Waving goodbye
To the opportunities missed
The steps never taken
The journeys never had
The loves never made
The fires never started
The path is always forward
The direction we face
Is the direction we go
Never the tangent lines
But straight as an arrow
On the life that we choose
never the one that we didn’t
But could have
White Swallow
By: Stamatis Kakleas
The purple martins of the night fly swiftly overhead
The sounds of their calls drape over the city, an undeniable presence
The whole flock leaves us in awe as we gaze upward, a sight for sore eyes
Amidst the magnificence of the crowd of swallows, a single white bird appears
Effortlessly standing out among the vortex of purple overhead
A rare find in an already rare sight, the moment is swifter than a sparrow
Be it fish of the sea or birds of the night
If we miss the many, we never find the one
Written in Nashville, TN
8/7/22
The Mason
By: Stamatis Kakleas
I’ve got holes in my shoes
That is the path that I choose
I work long days and sometimes at night
To provide for my kin and for my wife
I do not buy things which I cannot afford
I’m a bluntly honest man of his word
I’ve worked and I’ve sowed, and planted my seeds
For my beautiful garden and family tree
I will fight every day, and someday I’ll die
But I am certain that I will leave things behind
Because it is with these hands, that I’ve learned to survive
And that’s how I choose to fulfill my life
The Wild Rose
By: Stamatis Kakleas
I was strolling through the park and I saw something red, a single rose all by itself
It was so beautiful and elegant that it made the world around me temporarily disappear
This rose, I thought, will not survive through the seasons; I must bring it home with me
Something so lovely should never be left alone in the wilderness
I tried to grab hold of it but was pricked by its thorns
I was so mesmerized by its beauty that I had failed to notice
Those sharp thorns that rest upon its long stem
I didn’t want to let go, but the more I pulled, the harder my fingers pushed into them
I had no choice but to loosen my grip and let go of this magnificent flower
I had to leave and go tend to my new wounds
As I walked away I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen to this lonely rose
I only wished that I had gotten there before its thorns grew
I learned, this was never a rose to be uprooted and brought home
It was only one to be admired and cherished in the moment
I was not angry as I looked down at my bleeding hand
Because, I should have known better than to try to grab hold of a wild rose
But it was too beautiful not to try
And these wounds will eventually heal
But I will never forget
That beautiful wild rose
Candlelight
By: Stamatis Kakleas
I see orange and black shadows dancing on the walls as I drift away
You’re the softest thing I’ve touched all day
A slow caress to let you know I’m here
I may be tired but your presence ignites my senses
Slow breathing drapes over me like a warm blanket
Is this candle our only source of light – the only reason we don’t feel the darkness around us?
What happens when the wick burns through?
Every moment melts away; just like the wax beneath the flame
Leaving nothing but a soft glow to guide us into our dreams
Dreams where flames never extinguish and light is forever imminent
Stella
By: Stamatis Kakleas
My dear Stella, your lovely ways have gotten the best of me
From the moment your lips touched mine, I knew it was meant to be
These other typical girls, they can’t compare
To go near them again I wouldn’t dare
You made me sparkle with charm and tingle with confidence
You helped me see beauty and forget things irrelevant
With your hand in mine I can conquer this world
A warm feeling lingers, thinking of you as my girl
You stretch smiles and amplify laughs
But I’ve figured you out …my dear Stella
I’m not special to you; I’m just your next target
You raise me up, drop me down, and you’re quick to forget
I want you to stay, but you won’t be there in the morning
You made me love you with everything then you sent my world spinning
The warm feeling dissipates and the smiles disappear
The excitement fades and my thoughts become clear
When I wake I’m filled with a sense of regret
No matter how hard I try, I can’t get you out of my head
Only time can save me from the pain that you’ve caused
I promise; never again for a girl like you I will fall
This was the last time, it’s over; we’re through
You’re not worth the headache and that is the truth
It was great while it lasted but there is no cure
I’ll never be the same again…my dear Stella Artois
Drink responsibly 😉
The Shooting Star
By: Stamatis Kakleas
Without warning you broke the horizon, catching my eye
Stealing my attention from everything in sight
No one was around to judge, so I stared up high
Surrounded by darkness, you provided me light
I was speechless in awe, as you made your way by
The sensation you gave, I cannot describe
Your beauty, your magnificence, they lit up my sky
You wouldn’t be there for long and I knew why
Because you’re a shooting star in the dim of the night
So I made a wish…I wished I could fly
To be able to chase you, to catch you I’d try
And then;
Without warning you vanished, never saying goodbye
One of my posts, ‘Curveballs and Shooting Stars’, was actually based off this poem I wrote. I was just sitting there one day thinking about the various curve-balls life throws at us and that is when it dawned on me that certain phenomena can’t simply be deemed as ‘curve-balls’ and deserve a more majestic title.
The Chronicles of Stam 