Agios Sozomenos 

Over the healing hills of Agios Sozomenos my grandpa Antonis would stand with binoculars for a chance to get a glimpse of his village Tymbou. Now part of the turkish occupied area, everything that once belonged to him and his family were lost…only left in blurry images to be viewed at a distance. The house my grandparents Antonis and Nikki had built, now belonged to someone else, the land still ripe with fruit now picked by foreign hands…but let us not dwell in the past. Let us start at the very beginning…the magic. Before Antonis was born, his father Demetrios owned very little, so little that his family had barely anything to eat. These were poor times, where people were forced to survive out of hard work and determination. Demetrios invested in farmland in his village Tymbou but the land proved barren and dry. Day and night he prayed for a miracle, yet nothing seemed to change. Despite it all Demetrios never gave up, his iron will always pushed him forward. One morning, while digging in the land, Demetrios stumbled upon something strange. It was a wooden frame, when he turned it over it was a silver-plated icon of Saint Marina. It looked very old, almost 100 years old or so. A strong believer in the mystical, he brought the icon back home as he took it as a good omen. That night, he had a vivid dream, a woman dressed in white spoke to him telling him to plant cotton in the land and that it would soon turn to gold, in return she wanted him to build a church in her honor. A few weeks went by…everything in a constant standstill, Demetrios prayed to Saint Marina and asked for help as he decided to plant cotton in the fields. In the coming months a miracle happened, the land prospered in cotton…leading to Demetrios receiving profit…business flowed so well that he soon hired employees of his own…leading to him buying more acres of land…leading to him practically owning most of the land in the village and becoming the richest man in Tymbou. He hired people with the kindness of his heart, offering them a stable pay and even food for their families. And in the land, the first piece of land he bought he built a church in the name of Saint Marina, a home for the icon he had found. This was a church later known as a miracle giver, people would pray to the Saint and give her offerings as she performed their miracles. My grandpa Antonis and his brothers inherited the land when his father Demetrios passed over, and kept it in prosperous conditions as they also had the charm of hard work, blessed with the gift of kindness. In 1974 everything was lost after the war but what surprises me the most is that my grandpa never ever lost his smile. It still shines bright to this day, his face is one of gratitude and grace. 

© Nicoletta 

Taste of a Perfect Storm

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My soul cried out remember,
My mind pounding in thought
The crashing waves
Drew closer
In time for a perfect storm.
In the rolling waters
I lost myself,
Bit by bit a little more.
And as the faintest light
Touched the corner of my eye,
I breathed a sigh of the ocean
Into every part of me.

© Nicoletta

If this poem had a voice, this is what it would sing…

Photo by me: Limassol, Cyprus

Happy New Year


If the stars

Would paint a picture

In my mind’s eye

For years to come,

I’d hope to see

A future

Full of innocence

Beauty and Love.

If the stars

Would make my dreams

Come true

I’d ask for All magic

To be shared with you.

 

© Nicoletta

 

~As we let go of yet another year, let us be grateful for all our accomplishments. 2016 blessed us with gifts, made us stronger, taught us powerful lessons. As we embrace 2017, let us focus on manifesting positivity into the world. The earth craves for an abundance of gifts: peace, love, wholeness. The only person who is able to grant these blessings upon Mother Earth is YOU. So begin by being grateful for who you are because there is no one in this world that is more alive than you. 

Skye

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Tears roll down my chin
Like the raindrops on my window.
How to describe this beauty
Oh Lord
I try my best to sink it all on paper.
The fairies song
Ring my heart awake
As I stare at endless green
Above me
Below me
Turning all around me.
I am the greenness of this place
The greenness is me.
The higher the hill
The freer my breath rises.
My soul redeemed
In the shelter of each turn.
My head rests
On the comfort of sheep coat.
My body unravels
The mysteries of endless castles.
My eyes fly in the arms of raven wings.
My feet ground roots into the earth
Becoming one with it.
I am forever this land
And this land is forever me.

 

© Nicoletta

 

If this poem had a voice, this is what it would sing…

 

Photo by Nicoletta: Isle of Skye, Scotland

Song: Lost Patrol- Big Country

All the Difference

Diverged in a wood

Two roads

Implanted in our genes.

A seed paints it’s

Own picture of destination.

The sun brewing

A beam of light

Steaming forth

Steps

Dragging dripping trails of mud

Along the way.

Trampling riddles

Shedding fragments of solitude.

Lonesome travelers

Stamping footprints

Of stories they once called companions.

Tales tailing their way into

The slippery tunnels tailored

By fashionistas,

Pinned by layers of dress.

Two roads.

One choice to make

He described

Never invoking a prescription.

Mercury running down a thin

Line of craze.

One slip,

A single cut of wrong direction

Crippling the skip of a mad hatter.

With a cringe,

Each lift of leg

Stinging its way onto the path

The beginning always,

Never the ending.

Finish line

A bird’s eye views the Exit

Far off in the distance.

Tempted to jump the hurdles

Reach the finale,

No longer can pretend.

A hint further,

In the steepest of the woods

There lies the One.

The One

Description.

Imagination prescribes itself.

A difference

Crafted in art,

Stagnated in the minds of

Endless dreamers.

An all knowing eye

Seeing the choice as wise.

A prophetic ray,

Slyly hidden in the seemingly gloom.

Torn between a choice of two.

With only the courage in their hearts,

The path decides their way.

Paving sight for those willing

To look with a direct precision.

Condemned to blindfold

Those shadowed by the mind.

They.

Those few

Took on the creative genius

Of a Bard.

To prove

Through stumble and fall,

Shaking off gravel of abrupt turns

Stepping steep stones of uncertainty

Lessening lifting loads of lessons.

That One

Dear Sir,

Though tempted by a curious few.

Does make all the difference.

 

© Nicoletta

 

One Two Three

Life laughs

As it throws you an unexpected gift.

It giggles

As you look to the sky in gratitude.

The clouds you thank,

Celestial shapes guarding the canvas above.

The pure comfort of white

Like endless fields of cotton.

The breath you once exhaled with pleas

Now a thick air of satisfaction.

Bubbles of joy burst from its mouth

As it hears your blissful callings.

A wish you once whispered.

A dream you once envisioned.

“Do not fret,” Life said, “I hear your wish. I see your dream. Now let it go and count to three.”

Let it go?

When all I desire burns in me like fire?

“Desires burn hazardous flames when ignited in the mind rather than heart. Let it be. One two three.”
But this is all I want. All I need.

“Then set it free.”

The sky I saw. The birds in awe. The morning light, wings in full flight.

A deep breath. Need. Want.

Exhalation. The sun warming my head.

Squinting my eyes, golden rays danced like angels in the heavens.

Glory. This moment. All moments. Every moment.

Clouds bounce in the embrace of fluff.
Birds soar in a coat of feathers.

The sun peeps in the shadows of the night,

Eager to bring on the day.

The day, where anything can happen.

Any thing.

Imagine. Create. Release. Receive.

Now, I need. The present, I want.

“One. Two. Three.”

© Nicoletta

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