beyond the eyes lymit
the sun takes its last yawn
dispersing its mild breath on to the foam below
the night inhales,
gusting crisp winds
stirring the leaves of the palm

the sky whispers to the tide
pulling out onto the quiet sands
soft steps sneak along the shore
awaking resting sands with a soft crunch
footsteps trail the sands
but are slowly eaten up by hungry waves

the night’s orb presents tranquility
to the shivvers of the night air
the winds stand afoot
sending soothing silence as a gift

waves wish wash along the shore line
But the silence still stands
With the breath of the moon
silence still stands.
peace in the sands
Fiends driving suits of meat,
Vying prying,
Wishing wanting,
yearning and burning,
For a single stimulus,
Humanity forsaken,
Traded for,
Fleeting feeling.
A peace of mind
A place to rest

All I wish for is more time
Time out of that endless stream
That endless stream of consciousness

I wish to rest for a bit
Lay down my head
Let my body rest

I want to drown in the light
the light of my dreams

I just want to sleep
Our existence is restless...
Ang aking pusong napagod sa matagal na panahon
Sa iyo nakahanap nang matinding pagkahinahon
Sa kalaliman ng pagtingin, pag-ibig mo'y nadama
Ang batid ng puso ko'y  i k a w  na lang ang makasama

Everything gets better when I'm with you.
Mahal, isang tingin ko lang sa'yo, ako ay napapakalma mo. // 04.23.18
These days in May; oh glorious days
of sunshine unbroken rarely spoken
of in northern climes in modern times
summer 1976 is all we ever here of
if you’re lucky enough to remember
my distant memories of that wave of heat
included swarms of ladybirds never seen
in the living memory of that time
packed beaches and hosepipe bans to the fore
sweating in school; cooled only by milk
before milk snatcher Maggie Thatcher
stole that lifeline from our feeble grasp
bearded Bjorn Borg winning Wimbledon
on a sizzling Saturday in July
while I poked a stick in melting tar
all I needed to satisfy my childhood
simpler times, nostalgia dictates happier times
when you’re 9, every day lasts a week
in middle age every week lasts a day
or that’s the way it feels
I wish for these glorious days in May
to slow down; slow to a snails pace
to become a saving grace
for all who believe and trust in peace
for all to get what they deserve
on a May evening in Manchester in 2017
countless numbers were failed by this
so let’s wish for future generations
to grasp the peaceful baton
to reach a natural finishing line
after running a relay of love
It will be a year tomorrow that evil visited Manchester
If I died right now.

The last thing I would want to see is when you lay under the night sky and sometimes you’ll see the  clouds. Then you see little sparks of light maybe thinking it’s an airplane.

Then about 30 minutes later the clouds move and the light is still there. They are stars.

It’s a reminder that even in the cloudiest times light can still be seen.

And that is my peace.

                       With love,
All, us, them,
Words used to demonize,
As if we always wish,
For hate upon,
One another.
I want to place my bed at the edge of the ocean shore
And fall asleep to the sound of the roaring waves
Where the seagulls sing a reminiscent song
When the high tide rolls in, it can wash right over me
The tide pulls back and comes again as so many things in life
I lay still in my bed waiting for the next wave to hit
Underneath a waterproof blanket I try to keep warm
The sea air surrounds me and my mind seeks shelter from the storm
This time there’s no more anger or resentment
I cast my fate to the wind and let go of the past
Love and light surrounds me
Written by Sean Achilleos
4 December 2013©
Amazon: Sean Achilleos 'An Affair with Life' The Philosophical Poems of Sean Achilleos
YouTube: Sean Achilleos
Sometimes it takes the sky to open my eyes
To what's shone, coming and wrong,
To what's bright, rich and right
Sometimes in the emptiness of the night
when I lie awake to your choir of snores,
I chase the Devils of idyllic futures and more,
I hear me in them, in laments of glory, such songs,
and watch the warm creep by from feelings thought ever gone,
it ends,
yet when I truly wake to the scarlet rise
through the smog and maze on the horizon
I realize that in the center of concrete bushes,
as the wind of doubt whoosh whooshes,
I'm standing awake in the circle of change and growth
And I've waded through the black sludge of failures malicious moat,
and now I see me
as the dirt's swill stills
and I look upon my face
for the first time without distaste
and know that between this mud
and the roaring horizons blaze
stands a champion here present,
self made.
Look in that mirror and smile a while.
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