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Neen and Grampa, Love You Always

Neen and Grampa, Love You Always



Angel Robin

Angel Robin
MANY of these photos are courtesy of my SoulMate, my Beloved Eternal, Robin Taylor.

We Meet Again...

We Meet Again...







Cathy's Babies

Cathy's Babies

Sunday, July 8, 2018

The Empath

Thou art The Empath
     Angels fly from your eyes.     
 They caress me with Cloud,    blanket my Heart in
       warm soothing aether pools

            Your eyes' Heat            Shimmers with your Soul
                  Gifted, Pure                
    Blessed by Hot Old Stars ....
                    I leave,
        your eyes inside me,
          gentle, Full,
          pouring angels

  Your eyes pour angels over me
      as true mourning grips me;
            The angels hold me
               Kiss my tears
          my fragmented Heart

      Mourning finally fills me ....            Full flowered tears fall,
              Flow for hours;

My Heart clenches my stomach

Thou art The Empath

     Angels fly from your eyes

 They caress me with Cloud, blanket my rushing blood
My Heart pounds as the
    unfamiliar weight of Pain
       seizes me
   I am no longer an empty,  floating, Cloud, alone;

        I exist again,
            I have Become
             a scorching Star               frozen in my Space, alone,
but for those entranc-ed eyes,
             standing still
             on my silent Stage,
              blanketing,                  the quiet, firey, whisp'ring eyes
            of The Empath
        holding me together

as I am seized -
the Cleansing squeezes me;
I have no fear,
flow with my
Rivers of Tears,
   only for Moments insufficient
             for a LifeTime lost,
                 but a Beginning,
                    a Becoming,
                six months on

with gratitude & love, for our
     Dr. B.










Thursday, March 8, 2018

Cloud Surfing

witches White
Surfing Clouds
circling Eights
eight, eight, eight, eight, eight

            into your arms
            into your Light
            I wish you would
            hold me,
            my tear -frozen eyes
            my hands of
            Her crystalline fury,


Witches White
Lift me up to your Circle
I yearn to dance
I long to Cloud-Surf with  thee
Grand Mother, as your filmy White robes
Sweep the SunSet, Storm-lit Sky

Please protect the kittens,
Grand Lady,
as I am waiting for thee
Please keep them warm -
I know you will

witches White
in silent song
Surfing Clouds
Circling Eights
Eight, Eight, Eight, Eight, Eight

copywrite CherylFaith 2018
**the #8 also means
"other world"
in another tongue


Thursday, September 14, 2017

Bourbon Kisses (Bloody Fire)

Bourbon Kisses, Bloody Fire (a prayer)

She floated in with Her Fury, clothed in blue-grey Clouds;
I'm swathed in calm;
She took my arm, for a dance
'midst highest azure Air - 
I felt no fear, no fear, no fear,
only honour: pure enchantment


upon a Night soft and still

Thy form elongates!
Frightened shadows scurry Home;
Home has flown, 
blurred with Her tears.
Home has flown
my Sisters, my Brothers, my lover!  
My Lover!
move away, run away!
Shelter us, please!
Shelter these sacred Lives 
We beg thee

dissipate, disappear!

all has flown -
where have you sent the angel - fish,
please tell us they've a new-born Home -
Where is Home?   
Where is Home?
Forgive us, please?
 spray your Joy anew 
whilst we repair our thoughtless ways

Lost in hazy fields,
I've seen your mournful smile;
prithee let us try 
may we learn the means by which
Thou shalt forgive our wasteful ways;
 thine weeping Trees wrench my Soul -
Oh! to feel thy gentle breeze anew,
beneath your gaze, 
your Heart
new Stars, please live
in MoonLit fields 
where your corn, your wheat 
weave once more,
  beneath your clear soft Skies

we need thy kindness in this Moment 
I believe in you -  
please believe in me, in us

but this Night
only smoke doth define thee...
  ice crackles 'pon the ailing roof
Her Truths become lost Songs unknown;

your Sisters sang your Songs last Night,
opened fog-full doors; 

you flowed in 
like bourbon kisses
tall dark flames

You awakened bloody Fire
long - denied, long denied - 
centuries long-denied -
 Burn your buried fire in bourbon.
James told us aeons ago, it seems 
Why were we deaf to his cries ?
Why did we wait in apathetic bliss
until your rushing bourbon screams -
blood flows upon your Creatures 

  "What have they done to the earth?
What have they done to our fair sister?
Ravaged and plundered and ripped her and bit her
Stuck her with knives in the side of the dawn
And tied her with fences and dragged her down .... " **
LightStorm, SnowStorm, Winter-in-the-eaves torment-
sorrow as the huge Sea throngs
gallons, huge Ship-fulls of rage;
She howls 

She howls !

as strangers
bring in cloudy arms, round shoulders clothed in blue-grey smoke

I pray to thee, my Sisters:  hold Her to your Hearts.

I love too deeply; 
my Heart breaks 
over sloping hills
 facing sickly fates -
these Storms, She sends -
We whisper Hopes and prayers,
drowned cries! hidden within rocking crevices;

Scream !
a Chorus need be heard, 
upon foggy, moody moors,
upon Windy angry flatlands, 
Her blood - drenched coasts, 
guards fall down
 to tumultuous Seas,
a sickened lullaby;
Good - bye, my loves,
Sleep deeply, angels,
be soothed by "Dreams of Sheep"****

please tell us how we must caress you -
Your servant am I; 

tell me how to move; 
we need thine Ancient Songs

o honour us, sweet mournful Soul
o honour me, these Lives, 
untold til Moments
come, forgive -
thy Mind aglow
upon thy Heart
I taste thy seeping Life -
tears blur mine eyes -
if you share
you honour me
you honour me
impossibly -
I sleep
I toss with star-drenched Seas;
Her tears doth fall 

**from "When the Music's Over," The Doors, 
featuring the Poetry and its deliverance
of James Douglas Morrison 

**** "And Dream of Sheep" Kate Bush 

Wednesday, September 13, 2017

ANGELICA (Arthur Phillips)

ANGELICA is Arthur Phillips' third masterful Novel.

Director, Mitchell Lichtenstein, has interpreted Arthur Phillips' Novel into a Film, which
opens NOVEMBER 17, 2017 !
Congratulations, Arthur !! *~*
      Do read Sir Phillips' Book ~~before~~ you see Mr. Lichtenstein's Film.
Arthur's Novel transports you to another genre - defiant,
literary smörgåsbord of a world.

(Each of Mr. Phillips' Books is a genre of his own Creation; every novel is a genre distinct to the other (thus far) four amazing novels.
ANGELICA is written in our 21st century's *~*Arthurian Genre*~* )

     Mr. Philllips' ANGELICA is a chilling concerto of a story (or several in one ?) set in Victorian England. Readers, the world over, including a few of my other Literary Loves,
(Stephen King is one) have fallen into the subtly horrifying world which *only* Arthur Phillips can create. You, the Reader, will find yourself on a haunting, psychologically chilling trip. Arthur's Writing is an ethereally
magical, menacing tour of the psyche Human and its capabilities, desires; what needling, mind-cycling trips our own sub-consciences play upon our unsuspecting lives.

      ANGELICA has been critically acclaimed, praised by the likes of Stephen King, Kirkus Reviews (a Starred Review) and Elizabeth Hand, of The Washington Post (Best Fiction of 2007 List), to name a tiny few.

      Kafka, Nabakov, Shakespeare, and countless other Immortal Word-Magicians, applaud Mr Phillips from beyond; they hold for him a golden seat (which he should not take before he enjoys the fruits of his Immortal Literary Creations for another hundred-plus years, at least!)
Please never stop writing, Mr. Phillips. You are Gifted, and you Gift us.
ANGELICA, by Athur Phillips

 Mitchell Lichtenstein's Film Adaptation of Athur Phillips' Novel, ANGELICA 

Friday, April 28, 2017


Upon witnessing a Song Sung for Bowie

If I let rest my burgundy velvet eye curtains
all I hear is Bowie Love, respect,
as felt by millions upon billions of Beings, inhabitants of everywhere.

I wonder where he's off to,
candle - lit, rocket - fired,
starlette's beloved Jewel
a Human she permitted us to see
Where do our Souls live before or after,
or Simultaneously?

If incinerated, where might our (physical) temporary, endlessly recycling molecules go? Do they storm up into a cyclonic dance, then seamlessly stitch themselves together over a new Soul,
a sacred silent sewing ceremony,
performed in a silver palace,
secret, discreet
as undefined Air?

with love & special thanks to
my friend, Hawk Alfredson

Copyright CherylFaith Taylor 2017

Saturday, April 1, 2017

space .... ?

Words and Words and Dreams I sing for thee, love
my Words float, my face awash in mellifluous MoonDreams
where more than once, a nearby Star has caught my eye:
He glamoured me!
deep Space's tapestries feel surprisingly warm
Come .... Take my hand
Follow me: I promise thee a Show like no other

Young David Bowie gleamed; his Eyes glimmered;
(He glamoured!)
The Galaxy's grand and thunderous reply lit Universal Darkness -
Lesser Stars flickered

His Soul shone out through his extraordinary eyes;
He shot me a smile, straight into my own eyes !

His smile so enchanted me,
I felt my own smile
could never leave my face;
as your relationShip with
Your LifeTime
is more of Same to mine
than not -

these past several months have unsettled me -
I know they may have done the same for you.
If Life is a relationShip, a' movin' we go
We never end, we never truly die.

Thank you, Mr. Bowie.
I curtsy deeply before thee;
as tulle, lace, taffeta crunch
I crumble

With most gentle humble living eyes,
he says our cry's heard everywhere
each separate Home holds prayers for Peace
though mostly, I may pray to Trees

My attempt's for naught -
I weep and weep
as his rapture caresses me
His smile has yet to leave my face
I have no fear -
I hold no fear.

David Bowie walked here in the 60's,
or so they say,
     (Who was he, really?)

  He glides toward​ fly up
Silence becomes quieter;
I watch him swim smoothly toward a different place - I realize it's hush - hush
I make myself move; I weep,

You hold my hand.
Thank you, my friend.

His gifted smile has never left
Thou art here and now, dear friend,
and I love thee, brother.
I love thee, sister.
I love thee, mi amor, for Rivers of Evers
My True Adventure Began with Thee

Copyright CherylFaith, one cold dia de marzo, 2016

Saturday, January 14, 2017

Hidden Verdance

a PreLude

ooh! How truly jeweled She be!
Our Forests' magic speaks through thee;
I breathe in every gem She's shown thee,
every glimpse you've shared with me
Dear Soul of Time so long ago,
or might it be the 'morrow? Always
wandering, I wonder
lost in Dreams inside these Forests;
Love; thy beacon Lights my way

dearest Brave, you save Creation,
kissed by our Great Mother's
wide olde eyes,
whilst high upon thy Ebony stallion
on you lead; my fears fall away

these Stories, sweet, of other Times
breathe new Life 'pon a forest's floor,
where Dreams caress each other,
turn doomed lovers into newborne trees?
meandering spirits plights are here aLight,

All ways,

a Light ....

Dear Dream, prithee stay with me


Hello,  dearest angel found
in misty Midnight Forest plays, 
where faeries form floral garlands,
suspend them up, above this Earth,
beneath the wandering  Clouds,

wee girls! see them, seeking Sir:
tiny fingers, firm in  mothers' hands,
clasped; their elders, ancients,
cycling past each other,
awash, gleeful!
catching dewdrops barely born;
white roses, crimson poppies,
bluebells, moonflowers on parade;

no charade, no Earthly Lives
have lived these ladies, trailing
wispy smoke,
their gossamer nightgowns
shrouding moonlit riders' eyes
from those who'd steal their Dreams away,
each goddess, ancient, barely babe,
chosen for this Vigil, sacred,
to celebrate our secrets Borne,
enchanted trav'lers
beckoned in to breathe free - form
to mystify
each other's eyes,
tho they may be from other Times,
conjoined in Eternity's mirrored  Minds  ....

Look! Goddess of those Northern Lights!
She leads them 'round!
Gaze deeply, Sir;  She sees thee now
and then and here, as over there,
two Souls to hear old Stories spake
by Skadi; her spectacular Show,
her blessings:
throwing Poets glowing Lights