30 April 2009

it was the silence

can't remember what language

we spoke said it all

{& in response to eni & anyone else who was wondering, unless otherwise cited the haiku, poems, words etc.. on here are my own; in my words and i appreciate - more than you'll ever know - sharing them with all of you}

for what it's worth

© Eni Turkeshi Photography

...and as shakespeare wrote

{every time i repeat this quote to myself
it finds new meaning somewhere within me}

"fortune brings in some boats that are not steered"

28 April 2009

sands of grain

katya de grunwald photography

they all write about this, i know, to the point of cliché....
so many words, eloquent, trite, common, touching,
describe a simple notion:
the persistent inability
to firmly grasp the grains of sand that
inevitably fall through our fingers
despite an ever present desire, need,
attempt, to hold on.

they all write about this,
today it is i, who will write, scribbled down on paper,
typed hastily on macbook, repeated over
and over under the falling water
of my shower, the persistent inability
to firmly grasp the grains of sand that
inevitably fall through our fingers;
the ever present desire to hold on.

'like the grains of sand through the hour glass,
so are the days of our lives'
a dramatic voice on the television
if you care to tune in,
speaks daily, from another room.

once i wrote a poem about the beach,
four pages long, and yet
one phrase: ephemeral sandcastles

stands out to me well beyond the rest.

does it all wash away? slip
through the fingers, smooth
out by morning as though nothing had ever been there?
whispers in the faithful return of the crashing

waves suggest to me otherwise..

you are like this.
these soft grains, course, at times
hot, and in moments, surprisingly cool,
damp; dry, too hot to walk on,
i sink deeper when i try to stand still, stumble
when i take a step
toward you;
yet, they seem so firm
when you run away....

i reach down, without thinking,
yet it's all i think about,
and grab yet another handful of sand.
hot in the summertime,
cool in the autumn,
but i always reach for more.

grab a smooth handful of perfection,
a glimpse of
what should be, an encounter
i can't ignore, pleasure
i don't want to forget and then i feel
the grains that slip through the cracks,
my desire fails to close the smallest of spaces in between
that allow you
to escape,
seems the harder i hold on,
the faster they fall,
can't grasp them, watch them, sense them

slipping through my fingers,
devastatingly deliciously caressing
as they fall away, reminding me to forget.

without thinking, and yet it's all i think about,
time and time again, i reach,
somehow faithful
none the less, determined
to try once more;
yet knowing all the while,
the small handful of hope that
i reach for and hold here
is fleeting.

nearly immediate, eventual escape,
return, the grains fall,
mix with
the sand below that spans
as far as my eyes can see,
supporting me,
causing me to sink
with every step.

warm breeze, cold wind,

the grains blow in my eyes,
tears fall,
sandy fingers wipe them away with inherent motion

touched with familiarity and my damp fingers
reach down once more.
know i'll never be able to hold on
yet confident in that whisper,
gently touching me, slipping through my fingers,
but i'll never let go.

will seize them when i can,
feel the smooth, rough grains of perfection
between my fingers when
at last,
your warm embrace
through the cool seasons evading,
gentle, seductive,
fleeting, desperate, even
apprehensive and infinite,
as the grains of sand we so often write about, read about,
walk all over and
brush away with careless ease...

'when I consider every thing that grows
holds in perfection but a little moment…'
writes shakespeare in the first and second lines of sonnet 15...

ephemeral sandcastles

does it all wash away?
through the fingers,
out by morning as though nothing had ever been
; while whispers of the faithful return
in crashing
waves upon these very grains of sand,
continue to suggest the caress of something more..

the complexity was always there..and i saw it..

© Eni Turkeshi Photography

woke up this morning • and everything and nothing • had changed forever

27 April 2009

holding letting go

where i sit in this
moment still holding this breath
again let this go

25 April 2009


jerry yoon photography

“If you hear that someone is speaking ill of you,

instead of trying to defend yourself you should say:

'He obviously does not know me very well, since

there are so many other faults he could have mentioned'"


bon week-end.

© Eni Turkeshi Photography eni's {delightful} flickr

"i will not let anyone walk through my mind with their dirty feet"

23 April 2009

"...and he could be intolerable; he could be impossible;
but adorable to walk with on a morning like this."

virginia woolf
mrs. dalloway

image: jerry yoon photography

21 April 2009

sunglasses on, darkness, fioricet, water, coffee..

© Eni Turkeshi Photography

that headache that i mentioned yesterday turned into a migraine before i was able to drive home from what could have been an enjoyable evening in the very warm spring night air with a very warm algerian. not sure how i squinted past the streetlights and through the stoplights enough to drive home, but i'm here. been in the dark ever since. and thus, for the time being, my post for today will be simple with a rather appropriate blurry image {colorful for those of you who aren't sitting in front of the computer with big dark sunglasses on, as i am!} et voilà ...i'm delighted to share another of eni's photographs. enjoy! and please check out her flickr...

ok. to bed.

20 April 2009

haiku is a city and laundry looks best drying out the window of an old building, weathered and worn and painted a beautiful shade of green...

© Eni Turkeshi Photography

funny and intriguing the things, places, people, images etc. one stumbles across on the internet in this current social media explosion.

the other day, in the midst of a blossoming love affair with haiku poetry {after trying to inspire my students to play around with it} and sharing a bit of it on here
, i noticed a visit on my blog from a place called haiku, hawaii. i thought to myself how rather ironic it was that, in my current obsession with writing haiku, haiku had paid me a visit! as fate {i mean it must have been fate that brought that visitor here on the particular day i made my haiku debut, what else could it possibly have been..?!} thus, as fate would have it, my haiku was visited from someone in haiku {call me ignorant, but i didn't know such place existed, learn something new every day!}. so then i went on twitter to tweet around a bit, and sure enough, had a new follower from haiku, hawaii {by this point i thought fate must be working overtime..} well come to find out just today, a week after all of this, this individual who resides in haiku, sent me a message that she had seen my blog show up in her google alerts for haiku {as in the city}! how very cool, and kind of funny, and now i wonder if i should question the role that fate played in all of this, or simply see it, from any angle, as a sign to share another haiku today. and so here we go:

and with those few words
i'll never be able to
unless you listen

and one more thing, while on this subject, i also had brought to my attention by another twitter follower, the website twihaiku where you can post haiku on the site that simultaneously appears on twitter as well. @twihaiku it's kinda fun. {the first haiku i posted was made
haiku of the day yesterday..hmmm so ya that is kinda fun, kinda cool..}

and about the green building laundry part of this rambling post's title {if the picture didn't give it away yet} i discovered a new very fav flickr friend yesterday {ok well it was more like 3 in the morning today, but who's keeping track} her name is eni turkeshi of eni turkeshi photography, her photos are fantastic capturing 10.5 years of color, movement, light and character in istanbul and also her beautiful hometown of tirana the capital city of albania. check out her photostream and also her blog. she has a poignant view of place and a warm and kind spirit. love her images, you will see more of them on here in the very near future.

ok, that's enough out of me for a while. as you can maybe tell, i had a headache earlier and took two different kinds of my prescription headache medications, so i'm feeling a bit...well, better
on va dire...

bonne journee, tesekkeur eni, and more haiku to come...i'm sure. x c

19 April 2009

6:18 in the warm evening...

"It's past six o clock and even if he doesn’t know it, you fell in love with him
years and years and years ago, right in the middle of chapter 2 when he
winked at you through the subtext."

written by that talented girl laura i mentioned a while back {read more here}
...laura's blog coming soon ;))

flickr fav {image here}

18 April 2009

ah yes, another note...

just a note to thank those of you who comment on here. it's very sweet, and though i may not have posts with endless lists of 30+ comments each as do so many of you, i have such sincere and delightful commenters that i wouldn't change 2 of your comments for 50 of 'em any day.

thanks to all who read, who comment, and who stop by wpm from time to time, this little blossoming endeavor of mine. this whole venture is a huge step for me in actually sharing the writing i've been scribbling down for years and years and..well....years. i love connecting with you, reading your posts, and getting to know you.

thanks to all of you who read this but remain silent...... that's fine by me.. that was how i was all throughout school.. always listening, reading, thinking and coming up with my own angle on everything, but writing it in my notebook and rarely raising my hand. doesn't mean i wasn't paying attention.

anyway, this is just a little random saturday afternoon note to thank you, inspired by one of the most genuine bloggers and a dedicated reader/commenter on wpm miss heidi from finding my way. check out her blog with bits and pieces, fantastic images, reflective questions, daily musings and sweet observations that make a delightful excuse to pause the day, stop by her post, reflect and smile.

also... as i've noticed on many blogs, and particularly on heidi and blair's, i adore the added personal touch of responding to commenters and the opportunity this leaves for conversing with one another, providing a brief moment to connect ....and so just to let you know, i almost always respond to your thoughts and comments by commenting back to you on here.... so check back from time to time... it's great to have that added 'conversation' element.

ok, enough rambling... time to get some coffee from my favorite cafe, get out in the sunshine of my favorite time of fading late afternoon, and find my favorite, silly algerian boy before sunset.... think the evening promises to be warm and golden, what beautiful weather, first moments of spring.

oh ya, and remind me to share some of my writing about spring in paris. every year i was there i would find constant inspiration..in the streets, the movement, the warm days, laughter, and moments from evening deep into the late nights still touched with sunlight, warm breeze and the glowing anticipation -- often overwhelming -- that something delicious was just about to happen.

enjoy the moments wherever you are. à demain. big kisses from cali... c

images: 1}
.littlegirlblue flickr 2,3} le love

thoughts, notes, and another haiku. ......................bon week-end!

torn scrap of paper
edge of napkin, my thoughts, you --
scribbled everywhere

image: littlegirlblue one of my new flickr favs!

17 April 2009

haiku before the weekend..


i sip my coffee
sit before this screen as if
nothing had happened

16 April 2009

just passing through

i started this blog in the midst of one of the hardest periods of my life. and i'm still very much stuck here grappling with finding my way out of this mess. i've never really addressed the issues with you here head on, i guess that's not my style, but i do share a glance here and there, notes of sincerity that i'd never before passed on, and discover that some of us find inspiration and solace in the same things. i was lying in bed thinking and thinking and decided to just get up and write this. i was touched by a comment earlier in the evening by blair from delight by design, {one of her many thoughtful comments} and realized how this distant closeness can help us move on, in a way i'd never imagined.

in a constant state of change, rearranging the awkward and precious elements of my life, rummaging around what i have and have failed to hold on to, what i lost, dusty objects of value uncovered, those i hope one day to grasp, and everything in between... i search for perspective and share with you words and thoughts that i've found in myself and in the conviction of others, that capture a distinct sentiment in a particular light that suits my situation in this moment, and often in the next... only inferring at the heart of the matter, because it's the only way that i can pull myself through it.

it's not yet been six months since i started the blog and i've met some kindred spirits, some great talent, and an abundance of inspiration, compassion, and generosity. i glance through the progression of my posts as it documents -- in a hazy sort of light -- the roads i've tried to go down, the ones that i still find covered in fog, jammed with traffic or with one too many curves, and distant roads just around the corner that i've merely seen on a map and have yet to locate on my own, but at least i've got the license and the nagging desire to search for resilience, the {albeit, stop-and-go} drive, to look further ...and to maybe, someday, get there.

thanks for coming with me, and taking me with you, for the occasional honk or wave, and for often lending me the gps and inspiration for routes that i'd never stopped to consider along the way and that, just possibly, can take me.. where i will discover.. where i'll want to go.

x chantal

images: 1}carla coulson 2}julia galdo

14 April 2009

"there's a curious thing about pain or hardship.
in the beginning it's an enemy, it's something that
you don't want to face or think about or deal with.
yet, with time it becomes almost a friend."

words: audrey hepburn
image: julia galdo

...right now

"whatever you love most, you fear you might lose,
you know it can change.
why do you look from left to right when you cross the street?
because you don't want to get run over.
but you still cross the street."

audrey hepburn

08 April 2009

write now..

i'm sitting in the cafe where i meet the girls who i tutor in writing. both of the girls i worked with today never fail to inspire me in numerous yet different ways. first i worked with olivia who i somehow managed to persuade into agreeing with me that haiku was not boring "but i hate haiku" but actually fun..or at least it is when you sit on a couch in a cafe and write it with me... {will post some of our haiku next.} *O* as we call her by pen name, literally gets bursts of instantaneous inspiration. today she blurts out in the middle of our haiku fest "hang on i have an idea for a poem i need a piece of paper quick!" waits impatiently as i tear out a piece of paper for her and search for a pen, and within 2 minutes, had scribbled down a poem. she's done this in the past, written impulse poems of revelation, but this one blew me away:

the one you love

the one you love
could be right
around the corner

the one you love
could be right
across the street

the one you love
could be right
at your feet

when you find them
you may feel


{written in approximately 2.5 minutes}

i quickly and curiously looked around the room and finally ask her who.. i mean.. what inspired this?! she said it was something going on at school, and i was relieved as i hadn't spotted anyone in the cafe deserving of such a tribute..and ya, and she's in 5th grade. see more of olivia's writing here.

then there's abby, i see reflections of myself in her quietly persistent imagination. among many other things, abby is writing a series called pink princess {see here} this girl (abby) is so clever, her story is not simply about a princess who likes the color pink. in fact, she calls it a tale of sadness, because it's about a princess whose mother had an allergic reaction to pink lemonade when she was pregnant with her, and the unfortunate baby is born with pink skin. abby was sitting in the corner table of the café, writing away as i was working with olivia. she told me later that she doesn't know what's going to happen next in the story, it's the characters who live it out in her mind for her. i told her many brilliant fiction writers would say the same thing. abby's in 6th grade.

anyway, got interrupted with this post when my fav mexican bff sergio walked in the cafe {aka my office} to save the day and say hi, but i will have a haiku post soon!!!

05 April 2009

the story of an hour

image julia galdo

"when the storm of grief had spent itself she went away to her room alone. she would have no one follow her. there stood, facing the open window, a comfortable, roomy armchair. into this she sank, pressed down by a physical exhaustion that haunted her body and seemed to reach into her soul. she could see in the open square before her house the tops of the trees that were all a quiver with the new spring life. the delicious breath of rain was in the air."

from my very favorite short story, by kate chopin, the story of an hour

03 April 2009

just a quick note.... bon week-end.

kitchen 5x7 print
image: photobird

This is Just to Say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

william carlos williams