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Being u – A letter to my sister…

Being you

Being you

I love you for letting me be me in your presence.
For being able to express my frustration on some concern of mine without it effecting our deep ties.
I love you for being there in the times I celebrate life.
And the ones when I am mad at circumstances…
And as your sister I want you to be aware of the uniqueness of your being.
I want you to bless your presence, your birth and even every second of the lucky person I am to have you in my mornings, evenings, years and days…
I want a whole lot.
I want you to take care of yourself if not for yourself then for me for I cannot imagine my space without you.
I want your joys to be mine. Your laughter to be in synchronization with mine but if it’s not, I will try to erase the shadows of your soul.
I am willing to try alleviate your burden.
Share the tools I stumbled upon by divine providence.
But most of all I feel privileged and honoured to have been given the opportunity of treading the paths together, heart to heart, hand in hand…
This is why I picked up this morning my phone to let you know.
Thank you for being one of the best person I know on this planet.
Thank you for giving so much of you in the eight days I was visiting.
For sharing your time, listening…
For your big generous heart.
For encompassing, embracing all that cross your path.
For showing it.
For the light, the proof that goodness prevails.
For leading quietly without realizing it.
For being.

My apologies for my absence during a very busy winter until now.
As soon as things quieten down I’ll be back liking & commenting again
promise 🙂


My little big brother Dec 2011 English poem with its French original text



My little big brother

In a corner
Of the kitchen
You take care
Of your whitened sheet
A determined
And applied air
You play
Without guile
On your very wise
Peace wanders

A fresh air
Of nearly indecent
Of your childhood
Just beginning.
I approach very closely
In silence
Your darkened sheet
With dense numbers
Your hobby.
An automatic reflex.

I dream
Of a truce
In my nightmare
And I fall
By chance
On a brother
That “lays”
The genius
Without pleasing
Without denying


A thousand years
I take a walk
In the town
Of Tel Aviv
Where you lead
The step
Head high
Without failing
Toward a sea
Where the waves
Whisper softly

Where is hidden
The imaginary
And I tell you
This feeling
That never lies
But you smile.
Like a palm
Your face.
The scenery.
No flattery
Do you “bite”

But it is the truth
That hit me
Your sense of pride
Touched me
I found back
Your very marked
Of the past.
A wave
Of softness
As a probe
Engraves my heart
Erases all pain
Eliminates fear.

With dignity
At your side
I can walk
For eternity.
Never will I forget
This privileged moment
Buried in the past
Dusted away
To compose
This poem
Slightly bohemian
To celebrate
A sacred bond.

Like the sea
You will have a place
That never erases
Not with time
Anchored in the blood
And I realized
That forever
I will call you
Tall and proud,

My little big brother!

Mon petit grand frĂšre

Dans le coin
De la cuisine
Tu prends soin
De ta feuille blanchie
Un air appliqué
Et decide
Tu t’amuses
Sans ruse.
Sur ton visage
Trés sage
Erre une paix
Un air tout frais
De l’innocence
Presque indecente
De ton enfance,
A peine commencée.

J’avance tout prùs.
En silence
Ta feuille noircie
De chiffres denses
Les mathématiques
Ton hobby.
Reflex automatique.
Je rĂȘve
D’une trĂȘve
Dans mon cauchemar.
Et je tombe
Au hasard
Sur un frĂšre
Qui pond
Du génie
Sans plaire
Sans déni


Mille ans
En avant,
Je me promĂšne
Dans la ville
De Tel Aviv
OĂč tu mĂšnes
Le pas
TĂȘte haute
Sans faute
Vers une mer
OĂč les vagues
Chuchotent tout bas

OĂč se terre
Et je te dis
Ce sentiment
Qui, jamais ne ment
Mais tu souris.
Le calme
Comme une palme
Ton visage.
Le paysage.
Aucune flatterie
Tu ne mords

Mais c’est la vĂ©ritĂ©
Qui m’a frappĂ©e
Ta fierté
M’a touchĂ©e
J’ai retrouvĂ©e
Ta personnalité
TrÚs marqué
Du passé.
Une onde
De douceur
Comme une sonde
Grave mon cƓur
Efface toute douleur
Elimine la peur.

Avec dignité
A tes cotés
Je peux marcher
Pour l’éternitĂ©.
Jamais je n’oublierais
Ce moment privilégié
Enfoui dans le passé
Pour composer
Ce poĂšme
Un peu bohĂšme
Pour célébrer
Un lien sacré.

Comme la mer
Tu auras une place
Qui ne s’efface
Ni avec le temps
Ancré dans le sang,
Et j’ai rĂ©alisĂ©e
Qu’à tout jamais
Je t’appellerais
Toute haute et fiĂšre

Mon petit grand frĂšre !

My brother – So gentle Dec.2011 Poem with French original text



This poem was written with rivers of love for my younger brother whom I discovered later, the strength of his soul.

My Brother

Back turned
You watched nowhere
I heard a sob
Waking me with a start

I feigned sleep
My heart alert
Wishing to comfort
Not daring to admit

Desolate landscape
DĂ©cor effaced
All in you cried out
To regain your liberty

Moment of infinite tenderness
Parenthesis in my distress
I trampled your softness
Not thinking about your welfare
Have I expiated my sin
With a rose, a thing?
No, It is with love
For my brother, I feel

Witness of a story
Of a derisory past
A long path
Cultivated by our means

Age, unveiled
The clarity, the truth
Of your soul, beauty
Was revealed to me

I felt beating in me
The rhythm of life
The tom-tom of joy
A window to the radiant

My brother is only sweetness
Artisan and author
Of an inner strength
Kindness, his motor
I needed all these years
To find you, appreciate
To understand your value
Your personality in depth

Perhaps a rose,
Is after all just a thing
But I hold it out to you
In all friendship

As a peace offering 🙂

Mon frùre n’est que douceur

Le dos tourné
Nul part tu regardais
J’entendis un sanglot
Me réveillant en sursaut

Je feignis le sommeil
Mon cƓur en Ă©veil
Voulant te consoler
Mais n’osant te l’avouer

Paysage désolé
Au décor effacé
Tout en toi crier
Pour retrouver ta liberté

Moment d’infinie tendresse
ParenthÚse dans ma détresse
Je piétinais ta douceur
Ne pensant Ă  ton bonheur
Ai-je expié mon péché
Avec une rose, une chose ?
Non, avec l’amour
Pour mon frĂšre que j’éprouve

TĂ©moin d’une histoire
D’un passĂ© dĂ©risoire
D’un long chemin
Cultivé par nos moyens

Avec l’ñge, c’est dĂ©voilĂ©
Une clarté. La vérité
De ton ùme, la beauté
M’a Ă©tĂ© rĂ©vĂ©lĂ©

J’ai senti battre en moi
Le rythme de la vie,
Le tam-tam de la joie
Une fenĂȘtre vers l’épanouis

Mon frùre n’est que douceur
Artisan et auteur,
D’une force intĂ©rieure
La bonté son moteur

Il m’a fallu toutes ces annĂ©es
Pour te retrouver, t’apprĂ©cier
Comprendre ta valeur
Ta personnalité en profondeur
Peut-ĂȘtre qu’une rose
N’est aprùs tout, qu’une chose
Mais je te le tends en toute amitié

Comme offrande de paix 🙂

Reflexions 2008 ( Written in English with French original text )




By missing parental love, in ones childhood,
A person creates a sub-conscious codependency
By failing his autonomy vis-Ă -vis life,
Which is a natural procedure in the adults
Whereby, he remains with a unfulfilled hope to
Receive this missed and lost love that was due to him


En manquant l’amour parental dans son enfance,
La personne crée une codépendance subconsciente
En Ă©chouant son autonomie vis-Ă -vis de la vie,
Qui est une procédure naturelle dans le
Monde adulte.
Qui fait que l’adulte reste avec un espoir inassouvi de
Recevoir cet amour raté et perdu qui lui était dû à son

The flouted child 1990 ( English poem with French original text )



The flouted child

A child,
Is hope, It’s the future
A child,
Is the mirror of your memories
A child,
Is naĂŻve, pure and sweet
A child,
Believes in you, but you’re harsh

A child is not a thing
An object to dispose of
It’s a being of its own
With emotions, a light

Do not abuse his faith
For you shall only have his mistrust
Be his enlightened torch
His exemplar for eternity

You closed your ears
To all advice
You wounded this bird
You broke the branch

This child,
Was the hope of your memories
The mirror of the future
His feelings were sacred
But you’ve erased them


L’Enfant bafouĂ©

C’est l’espoir, c’est l’avenir
C’est le miroir de tes souvenirs
C’est naïf doux et pur
Croit en toi mais, tu es dur

L’enfant n’est pas une chose
Un objet dont on dispose
C’est un ĂȘtre Ă  part entiĂšre
Avec des sentiments, une lumiĂšre

N’abuse pas de sa confiance
Tu n’auras que sa mĂ©fiance
Sois son flambeau éclairé
Son exemple pour l’éternitĂ©

Tu as fermĂ© l’oreille
A tous ces conseils
Tu as blessé cet oiseau
Tu as cassé le rameau

Cet enfant,
C’était l’espoir de tes souvenirs
Le miroir de l’avenir
Ses sentiments étaient sacrés
Mais tu les à effacé

To the mothers of the world 1989 ( English Poem with its French original text too )



This poem from 1989 differs by one word only. Instead of ” example of courage ” I changed it to ” model of courage. ”
As you can see, the sketch is brand new, made among a collection of three others, on the newborn-mother Theme.
This poem is dedicated to the beauty in all mothers, especially those that surround me and teach me lessons of
courage, dedication and selflessness on a daily basis.

Thank you!


To the mothers of the world

Mother divine
Mother sublime
Mother of kindness
Mother of generosity

Model of courage
Love and sharing
You are the heart
Of a beautiful flower

We are the petals
Very small petals
Attached forever
To our revered queen

Mother of kindness
For having given so much
Mother of generosity
Without ever counting

Mother divine
Simply divine
Mother sublime
You are the tip of the peaks

Thank you,

For every instant
For every moment
Of happiness experienced
In our childhood of gaiety


Aux mĂšres du monde

MĂšre divine
MĂšre sublime
MÚre bonté
MÚre générosité

ModĂšle de courage
Amour et partage
Tu es le coeur
D’une trĂšs belle fleur

Nous sommes les pétales
De tous petits pétales
Attacher Ă  tout jamais
A notre reine vénérée

MÚre bonté
Pour avoir tant donné
MÚre générosité
Sans jamais compter

MĂšre divine
Tout simplement divine
MĂšre sublime
Tu es le bout des cimes


Pour chaque instant
Pour chaque moment
De bonheur Ă©prouver
Dans notre enfance de gaité


Point Loma Writers: Mary Karr

I found out about Mary Karr from another blogger’s post ( sorry! I can’t remember the name 😩 )
and looked her up on you tube.
I really had so much fun and information from the literary world that I thought I’d share
it today with you.

Even though I had a whole load of work to do, I dropped it all to indulge in this interview.
I can now, go back to my previous plans with a different frame of mind.

I hope you’ll enjoy it too!

Uploaded on Apr 21, 2011
Noted author of “Lit,” “Cherry” and “The Liars’ Club” Mary Karr reveals her approach to writing these sometimes humorous, sometimes blistering and always candid best-selling memoirs in this interview with journalist Dean Nelson as part of the 2011 Writer’s Symposium by the Sea sponsored by Point Loma Nazarene University. Series: “Writer’s Symposium By The Sea” [4/2011] [Public Affairs] [Humanities] [Show ID: 20666]
Standard YouTube License

Flying balloons 2011

Flying balloons 2011 ©copyright2013owpp

Flying balloons 2011

I have fun with all my paintings but each one is a different experience, this one represented, lightness, life’s gift, childhood, freedom.

A journey in the past, present and future 2009



A journey in the past, present and future

As I sit on the bench of a cold and sunny December morning, In my Chiropractor’s small village, known for its preserved nature-spot, I absorb the peace and calm that descends upon me.
I chose this bench for its full view on the square. The vividly green grass contrasts with the brown and red bricks of the small houses surrounding it.
A pavilion right in front of me, completes the scenery.

The sky is unusually blue for this time of the year. Birds are chirping and passing from one bare tree to another.
The wind softly ruffles the pages of my notebook as my hair blows into my eyes simultaneously, blurring for a second, this picture of perfection.
The air is sharp and invites you to take a brisk walk. At a distance a couple is walking their dog, head bent, sharing some anecdote. The world seems to have slowed down. I’m back to my childhood, in England.

At my grandma’s home.

Mind, body and soul, fly back to the distant, yet vivid, coziness of her kitchen, her love, the clock ticking on the mantelpiece, it’s rhythmic sound, soothing, lulling me, into a peaceful daydream.
The smell of wood and grass after a rainy day. Her small cellar door intriguing us, daring us, to have it opened and climb down the narrow staircase in anticipation of the mysterious, the unknown.
Older men throwing, on a warm summer day, their black,glistening, heavy bowls on the cool grass of the park opposite.

A car passes and I find myself back on the bench. The same couple passes with their dog again.
I find myself sucked up in a vortex. Pulled back and forth between my childhood and this peaceful moment.
I can smell the bark of the trees after a storm. I find a narrow staircase spiraling down. Time, places and houses mingling haphazardly in a flow, of mind-flashes dancing an elf dance. Convincing, teasing,inviting me into a world of make beliefs.

Where am I?

Two enchanting places, where warm memories inhabit my heart with lovingly entangled roots, chaining me, to the beauty of experience, to the wonder of memory.
The young and the older, wiser, merging together in beautiful synchronized choreography. In a flow of light, travelling into the space of time. Leaving sparks on its way, as a guide to the lost, the seeking, the hurting. Inviting them to the wonder of miracle, of hope, of change, of rebirth, to the creation of choices. To the novelty and first steps into happiness.
A mind trail. A magnet. Bursting forth and growing so fast, darkness disappears on its passage, leaving place to color, serenity, awareness of a world growing, changing,moving toward diversity and uniqueness, acceptance and forgiveness.
Forgiveness of a past, fading into the distant horizons.

– – – – – – –

The dog barks and I’m thrown back to the place where time stands still.
Nothing has changed.
My hands are still clutching the notebook. But my mind has landed in a confused, muddled heap, as a ball of wool mishandled by the claws of an eager and energetic kitten.
Slowly, my heart comes to rest after a frantic pace and I imbue the quality and stillness of this small, yet very big place.
I hear my name being called and I realize it’s time for my chiropractor’s appointment.



As I get up and walk to the door, I enter the distant past and profound serene moment catching on the side of a wooden table, the glistening of two black heavy bowls, nearly smiling at me. Winking at me, creating a rainbow of all the precious moments of my life and offering me the gift of two places,

I can call HOME.

The heart of life 1987 ( translation of French original text in post below as ” Le coeur de la vie ” )

the heart of life ©copyright2013owpp

the heart of life

The heart of life

I hear the music of your heart
That blossoms like a flower
You are drowsy with joy
You are a wonder in itself

I hear the music of the night
That shines in all its splendour
You wake up every time
And the sun is yours.

Then, sings the heart of life
And all the children smile at you
They clap their hands and invite you
To remain until the infinite

They do not ” hear ” the night
The thousand lights that shines
They see the wicked shadows
The tree branches coming and going

They crouch under their imaginary shelter
Hoping the arrival of a mother
That will take all the fears of the earth
That will console all the children of the universe

And with them you wake up
Showing them the sun
Life and all its grandeur
Night as well, without its fears.

Because you do not want to hasten them
Very slowly you break the light
With a gentle darkness
That will, for a few hours, last

So, children of the earth
You no longer need this mother ( you only need yours! )
Who’ll take your imaginary fears
The night is part of the universe


If I, the heart of life
Calm your fears, I have not succeeded
I will make the night sing
I will put music in the “noises”

I will make the waters speak
To sooth your aches
I will make all the stars dance
To see your face, with a smile,
Light up!!

Have a wonderful week!