Saturday, September 24, 2016

Weekend ...

The week is long
with ups and downs
rushing to work
taking care of me,
you or ours.
We don't stop
we don't breed
we just run
run, run and more run
in a city of orange cones,
full of smug, but we
have to live and to live
we need to run,
if you ask people where they
run.... probably they don't know.
So STOP, breed and look around,
enjoy life because it is a very
short two days weekend!

Thursday, September 22, 2016

Floating

Had life given me wings
and not a ice bubble,
I would have floated way up high
in the sky where colors are so fine
it's a fairy tale adventure
through and through.
Little stars would light the way for
me to be floating forever and a day!

Tuesday, September 20, 2016

A little french writing

"Comme la pluie qui secoule et reviens ,
les souvenirs font mille voyages,
parfois mélancoliques autre fois joyeux,
mais se sont toujours les souvenirs
que l'on a bâtis avec le passage du temps
et en nous ils restent....."

Saturday, September 17, 2016

Booms and a bangs

I was there, all alone, playing my violin on
a warm end of summer night.
All was quiet, no wind to disturb or bright
stars to peak on me with just my violin's
notes floating around my heart was dancing
of joy.
The world was still,
one could hear the cicada
singing to the mood of my fingers on
strings all in unison softly at times or
raging at other times.
Then out of the blues all shattered
with booms and bangs, the sky became
busy with lights, colors and strange sounds.
I walked over to see the commotion,
it was a boom and bangs for children of the
area who screamed oooohhhsss and aaaahhhhss.
I took my violin and imitated the sounds
to no avail ... this time around the boom and the
bangs won over my soft melodies, but music
it still was..... only their music was a bit louder
than mine !!!!!!! 

Monday, September 12, 2016

9/11

A date in the calendar maybe,
it's the hole in one's heart that counts.
We search,
we reason,
we shed tears,
it's the memories that counts.
We look at their images,
maybe in black and white,
or an old Polaroid shot,
but in our hearts they have
no color, only beautiful
accounts of their lives shared
with us while on this earth.
Don't cry for them,
don't make them feel guilty
of leaving us behind to deal
with their passing.
Light a candle when they come
in our dreams, ,they want light and
only us can satisfy that desire.
At night look way up in the sky
and wave at the twinkling stars,
It's them passing by and they
salute us for thinking
of each and everyone
of them who left without a
goodbye to their loved ones  on 9/11.

Thursday, September 8, 2016

Angel dreams


Dreams of the angel are
softer than the caress of a
feather.
It turns around in million of
ways leaving you unsatisfied
for a while.  When the tiny
feather touches you hair
you feel it.
It will touch your eyelashes
making you blink a few times.
The tip of the feather will touch
your button nose and steal a
sneeze but the angel will laugh,
giggling for a time.
Our little angel tries to grab the
feather to no avail, it is faster than
the wind, gentler than the early
breeze. It dances around, it falls
to the ground, it goes up again
spinning for a while.
Our friendly little angel just tires,
closes it's eyes and on a soft
swish of the feather just falls
in the dreamy land.
Sleep little one don't let anyone
disturb you peace....

Wednesday, September 7, 2016

Sparkling face

You called Flower,
your words and lips
made me sparkle.
Even I knew that all
sparkle is not always
shinning star.
But all the sparkles blinded me
and now I have to live with
the shame of having shown
you how much I wanted you,
so much so that from the day
you left, my face has not
sparkled for anyone else......

shhhhhh. just listen