A poem about an ordinary day filled with beneficial and harmful habits.

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

I didn’t sleep well the previous night.
I am up craving for another five minutes to rest.
Awakened up by a fucking beam of light,
my eyes gradually open while my heart pumps within my chest.

I wash up and put some clothes on,
and to the nearest coffee shop I bike.
With caution I cycle back home,
since some people don’t care for the red traffic light.

Once I am back, with haste I take a cold shower,
because Thessaloniki may be uglier than Gondor,
But downtown in midsummer,
the town is slightly hotter than Mordor.

I enter my…

A poem about the power of luck.

Photo by Daniel on Unsplash

One summer night I was driving myself home.
Under a bridge I stopped at a red light.
I saw a figure in ragged clothes roam,
asking for spare coins in the middle of the night.

While he slowly marched to my car,
I started looking for some change,
and a couple of coins shined from afar.

Once I looked right at him,
his gaze was very familiar to me.
He was polite, gracious, and at the same time, very grim.
His life’s circumstances have kept him for years unfree.

The cars began to slowly pace,
and a question arose to…

Abundance in time of scarcity.

Photo by Katerina Pavlyuchkova on Unsplash

An abundance of online newspapers,
a scarcity of time to sort out fake news.

An abundance of books and online courses,
a scarcity of time to think, read and produce art after work.

An abundance of places to travel and see the world,
a scarcity of opportunities to take the rest of the day off.

An abundance of potential partners,
a scarcity of attentional span to consciously listen to each other.

An abundance of money issued around the world,
a scarcity of generosity for the people who are in dire need.

Abundance in Time of Scarcity

A scarcity of kindness within a workplace,
an abundance of…

A poem about the best part of my morning routine.

Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash

Of all the tasks in my morning routine,
one habit shines a light on my day.
It’s not my favorite induce of caffeine,
or listening to the maddening sounds the pigeons make every day.

Once I get up from my bed,
and wash my face with cold water.
Numerous thoughts start emerging from my head,
to remind me of the day’s obligations that matter.

Then I’ll read some pages of a book,
and take some notes for future use.
I’ll order a freddo espresso without a second thought,
and go out the balcony to breathe some fresh exhaust fume.


A poem about a small excursion.

Photo by Ibrahim Adel on Unsplash

Once the quarantine rules got a little loose,
my partner and I grabbed the chance right away.
Although staying home and wearing a mask outside I don’t refuse,
When it comes to a small excursion, I wouldn’t miss it for a single day.

Our first goal was to bring to our mind,
how it feels to be in the presence of nature.
To give ourselves a chance to unwind,
and leave our “to-do” lists for later.

We walked through muddy trails,
and green fields, filled with trees.
I absorbed nature’s fascinating details,
and forgot my town’s noisy cars with ease.

No matter how small the audience, you can still make an impact.

Photo by Philippe Bout on Unsplash

What do you want most as a writer?

The magic ability to make every post you publish viral? Connections with famous writers? A loyal audience anticipating your next piece every time they log into Medium or your blog?

They are all worth pursuing, and they all come down to views and money (except the viral magic, which I don’t have a clue about it).

For most writers I’ve met, professionals or amateurs like myself, there is something deeper than that.

When I use the word “deeper” I am not implying that this “something” is superior to money or views. Not…

A poem about my brother.

Photo by Kylo on Unsplash

When I was young and very small,
my parents would buy me all kinds of gifts.
I was a spoiled only child that wanted it all,
ending up being responsible for many conflicts.

One day, I came back from school,
my mother told me we should have a chat.
She told me a new little brother would come soon,
and that we will love and look at.

When my brother came to our home in soft cloth wrapping,
he was so small and fragile,
I recall picking him up while he was napping,
to hug him and see him smile.

A poem about how your inevitable death helps you beat procrastination.

Photo by Sinitta Leunen on Unsplash

There are days within each month,
my inner resistance comes out with pride,
and commands me at once,
to leave both my work and side projects aside.

How delightful it would be to unwind,
and play all the games included in the Xbox game pass,
or browse through Netflix and pick any movie or series I can find,
and sit on my couch to numb my brain and my ass.

When I was young and quite dumb,
I didn’t consider that someday I’ll reach the end of my existence. …

A poem for those who died.

Photo by Kyle Smith on Unsplash

There are times I get nostalgic,
and dream about my family members who have died.
They appear before me just like magic,
and have a chat with me while they rest right by my side.

I would say I’ve missed them,
and ask how they are doing.
It seems like yesterday I talked to them,
even though years have passed and my dream is pointless in pursuing.

I am sure I won’t see them again no matter how unjust,
since I am sure my body will decay once I pass away. …

George Bakoulis

I steal ideas from great books. I write poetry to express myself and articles regarding mindsets about work. New content every time I write.

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