This is no fiction, but reality. This was God’s miracle again for me,
few hours hereafter occurred the bombings in Paris.  We ?  Already at Airport Orly to Home  ............................With love, Sylvia.


Paris after the 12th of November? No one to blame
the Eiffel Tower? Never more the same,

departure some hours later, no resemblance
those slight difference: terror in ignorance

forced to stay in Paris forever
could  never see again your homeland, remember?

no dreams anymore, constant nightmares
but……. WHO  cares?

you would never know, was it a curse or a bliss,
oddly enough, I informed you now about this.

Now Paris for you is still a greatest bliss
you’ve never been in Paris before
we did enjoy, quarrelled and enjoyed more

for you and I Paris was the walhalla
our love and happiness we never measure, and blah-blah-bla

God showed us the perfect view
from dawn till again morning dew

to treasure and honour His Mighty Impact
that life He showed you, enjoy it and show respect !

please, beware of His presence
be careful and love thy neighbours in mine absence
in all hours of this Great Silence....

© Sylvia Frances Chan

Preoccupied:
Being alone does not mean anything
there are more important things to utter,

when your Birthday approaches
it makes all memories getting poaches,

enjoying the delicious cake
is a fact not a fake,

staring at the exuberant colours
in those delivered flowers
the least enjoyment in these hours,

there are more important things to utter
spoken about experiences which flutter,

there are more precious things to say
you have your own style, I do it my way....

I wish you a Happy Birthday on the 22 November
This date I never forget, but always remember.


© Sylvia Frances Chan

An Ode Poem to Present Past Times . As the Mind is following its free creating Spirit. Paper is patient, people are not. About Molenwijk, about a cutting artist, a Tale apart....


I feed you with love,
I nourish you with my smile,

my countless patience, my sunshine, my passion,
I nurture you with all things
what can do to you to bloom.

I have brought you my deepest secrets
and feed you with my own blood.

Only you can make me
as I am today.

Thousands of people,
all kinds of interests,

I came and I go back,
nothing I have noticed.

You came from the darkness,
I saw, I discovered
and I made you my own.

I'm your patient owner,
I hold you in my selfless love,
believe me, my past time hero,
our friendship will last
until many degrees below zero.

A sunlit remoted Molenwijk,
amidst of Indian Summer Autumn
Haarlem, a tale apart
precarious people look at you
like you're a piece of living art.

Is it so funny that
a workaholic, an overly prolific
a cutting artist who creates,
when his heart is on maximum optimum?

Molenwijk is very crowded now
and the beautiful sun rays make me sad,
give me feelings of deep tensions,
discomfort, brand new nostalgia
and latest fashioned depressions.


© Sylvia Frances Chan