More inspired thoughts….

In 2006  Katie Melua released her album, “Piece by Piece”.

IN 2007 I left Europe for America and I wrote this:

Piece by Piece

I’m selling my past

on ebay

for a bunch of cheapy Euro tears….

Box by Box

I’m shipping my past

on a boat

sacred secrets of my Euro years…

Trash or art?

Like murky Van Gogh

and snazzy Matisse

in one frame agony and bliss

painted by moments

selected by

the only witness

  of my sin-nocent story

my memory…

There will be new cars in the life to start

There will not be Me-at-42 Louizastraat

Inspired by an inspiring quote… Have a great day!

As read on Twitter…

“I didn’t understand that if I stopped trying to recapture the past, there might be a future waiting for me.” THE BOOK OF UNKNOWN AMERICANS

As I wrote in my poem…

In the Presence of the Present

No time for the Past

High time for



Emotions opened the door

To tears

And incoherent hush.

I hugged my Past

And finally it felt

So wrong…

Guilty but free

I locked the door behind.

In the presence of the Present

The Past is in the past,

And nothing compares to the future.

Rules of Attraction

With a few trips to snow planned within the next weeks, I started contemplating my relationship with winter…


Rules of Attraction

If similarities attract,

we should be best friends

or something close to that

the snow-white type beauty

with an icy smile,

boring, bitchy, brutal-cold

both you and I

we are so alike

I should like you, no doubt.

Yet every time you come to town,

I’d like to hide or hibernate

or flee

where palm trees and beaches

drinks with ice

Italy, Spain

or Southern France

somewhere, where either Celsius or Fahrenheit

would melt you in my eyes,

in case you decided to follow me,

groom chasing his runaway bride.

That similarities attract, I can’t deny,

yet with one exception

of winter and I

What is it Like to be a Mom?

The other day a young, single guy asked me what it is like to be a mom.  I found it odd that a young, single guy was curious. It’s not like he was interested in the position, right?  But his question made me think and re-think the meaning of motherhood.  Lots of thoughts were going through my head. Which ones describe it best:  lots of  multitasking and coffee, little sleep, little time for yourself and friends? Unless you are a super-mom that is. I’m not. But there are perks. Children bring out in us feelings that we would never experience otherwise. That unconditional love for another human being, who we gave birth to.  Or the better understanding for our own parents’ feelings.  What’s more, we get to see the world the way children discover it. We notice bugs on the sidewalk again.  We remember that puddles are for splashing.  And last but not least, little children are such wonderful snuggle-buddies.

But if I had to put  the meaning of motherhood in once sentence, I would simply say: Being a mom is like being in Heaven and Hell at the same time. 

Or, if I were to wrap it with metaphors, I would quote one of my poems, “Piece by Piece” (The Poet’s Place”)

“Like murky Van Gogh

And snazzy Matisse, 

In one frame

Agony and Bliss”

By the way, today someone else asked me how I stay so thin taking care of the kids all day. I told her that she basically answered her own question: Taking care of the kids all day.

“Mom-to Be & Mom-I-Am” by Agnieszka Chapas

“week by week



on two hearts

my wheels”

No, no, not me this time. My turn is over.  But I have just heard the big news from a friend. And y brother and his girlfriend will become parents in a few months. Another friend has just become a mom. The Miracle of Motherhood happens all the time and everywhere! And this little book of poetic reflections is dedicated to everyone expecting or living it.

The Fall

One thing I sure miss in the Bay Area is the colorful Fall. Yes, some trees turn red and yellow, but it is not as I have seen it in Poland, Belgium or Ohio, for example. The California Fall would have never inspired me to writing this poem. Enjoy your Indian Summer and the September palette of colors!


the fall

you come like a queen

dressed in gold and ruby-red

but your perfume’s so a-royal

cinnamon- apple blend


come simple girl or queen-

you’re never unannounced

but it is you to choose your time,

you always surprise

like a broadway show,

a parade of dance and light

as if hypnotized

the world chants for you and sings

to the wildest music

by Maestro Wind,

and trees, for their summer-lover bright green clad,

keep dropping leaf by leaf,

(like strip-tease, quite sad)

till naked, ‘you’ve betrayed the summer!’-

November rains

(or cries)