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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 31, 2011

Arteries... (excerpts)

Parte I :  Views from my bedroom window,
                 Agua Miel (HoneyWater)
Four hundred eighteen fluid Lives
Surge unseen through your Living Stream;
Thrice-gleaned photos, my tossing Dreams,
You glow volcanic strength in Nights,
 silence sirens,  fear-hewn screams

(all I have to do to see you is peer out my window; 
I wish those dogs would leave you in peace)

 jeweled spray, Quash heat's stormed torments' rise;
shoot Life to surface; I realize
your every diamond droplet, guided by Good,
injects Lives, raises alien- coated angels in Blaze...

Who gifted you your kind-Hearted potency,
your unceasing bravery,
your expertise to drown our searing pain?
 You bundle children in smokey quilted air,
cleanse parents' tears,
  you exalted River...

I peer through my bedroom window,
ask your crimson metal sentinel Home a question,
flash his potent flowing honey my largest smile.


parte IV:  TearDrop

I kiss your teardrops,
taste Earth & Heaven's Salt & Rain...
My finger loves the skin around your eyes' soft contours;
your sweet baby breath soothes my tormented Heart
even in your tiniest TearDrop lives a sacred sentient Life

{Please lose your fright at the sound-barrier-breaking-alarm;
a  Fire Brigade arrived when you were Born & lost consciousness}

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Saturday, July 30, 2011

Eighteen Billion *Jewels*

     by "Sky" I metaphorically mean "all around you".
I'll probably change the name of the Project;, as I love ~long vowel sounds. 
Short letters, like the "e" in "Gems," grate at me. 
They are Musically different to my general style.

     Every Friend who visits here, please know:
I know you each from different Times & Places; I've a unique feeling of "Friend" for each of you. 
This virtual page (I mean our new Facebook Page) is a shameless self-promo, :)
for a publication of my material;
 I was coerced into participation there!

      Whether my baby (the "Collected Works" (*a nod to my Mentor*)
sells 1 copy, 0 copies, or...dare I say...~more~...please know you are a part!

     I desire to help people in my Writing...I always pray to do so...

Simply, Thank You. You are many special People...Look around at who has gathered here... 
Peace & Smiles! CherylFaith

*~*~*Please Scroll to Bottom 
& Click Upon Link 
to see our new Facebook page
   Many HeartThanks
Peace & Smiles,

Monday, July 25, 2011

Waiting for Microwave Popcorn

Streets charged with Wild Rain run awry
Amongst ice cream slicky, diabold Dreams;
Children scream in hollows;
Gigantic Creature cameras preview Avenues;
Streets flash frenzy-full faces, 
race with sheets of sleek Wild Rain

Screens illuminate a huge Steel Body
Show tiny people's Joy,
Glow accidental Beings' Love;
Metal Monsters' razored teeth clamp

Beneath Stars whose Lives weave yours
 and monsters' footprints into faery dreams;
Under doe-large, terrified stellar eyes,
down below the Core,
the seering, seething, slithering, dancing heart,
becalms the Storm;
Wild Rain caresses


Wild Rain flies and rivulets
crazy morphing concentric spirals;
Wild Rain smacks your naked face with
 frigid, foreign, frozen Island Wind;
Wild Rain caresses your heavy limbs, your swollen Heart;
Wild Rain ushers you Home.

( draft II )

Who Rains

This Day...the Mothering Sky weeps cathartic tears;
Who Rains here, 
soaking tiny droplet sugar Hearts,
melting molecules into Earth,
tiny candy Hearts
like Valentines
I didn't get...
ToDay, I do, but fear to blink,
lest my mouth forgets to open
for your Fountain's bounteous Jewels
I didn't "get" this Song when I was tiny; now I do, & can't stop weeping...
"If I could save Time in a bottle, the first thing that I'd like to do 
Is to save every Day til Eternity passes away, just to spend them with you..."
  "Time in a Bottle"
by Jim Croce, another Artist whose soaring Soul young he seemed, to us... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Saturday, July 23, 2011

Amy WineHouse

Another bright Old Soul survives a Moment; she Flies;
once more, a stunning Star cries out;
leaves feathers, flowers, felinesque-d eyes;
Your tempestuous gentleness,
so sad, your desperate cries;
Your wavering flame sought breath in mists
In Tune with elder goddesses
My Soul sighs & weeps...
I wish I had ~really known who you were, this Time around...
© CherylFaith Taylor 2011


Monday, July 18, 2011

the princess of Long Island

( excerpt from the series, "Bungalow Diaries" )

Her pretty elvin head
Sweet little deaf ears -
but for the thunder one hears
when diamond boulders play "mad escape!"
down hungry, greedy, dreadful, demonic drains


You flail your arms
All they see: a tiny thing
A curiosity, "a pity..."
"Poor sweet little angel..."
Pretty blind eyes, has she; (excepting largesse);
Impossible they would really see you:
Sweet baby Genius,
(You said I shouldn't tell them)
Sweet baby Genius,
your laps cross lakes far too frightening
for eensy bitsy princesses
to ever even enter.
Your steady aureolic Globes, wise Eyes, cherubic shining Smiles;
Your silent soft audacious eyes show smile-sprayed Sky, horizons climbed...

You flash past vapid princesses in eggshell blue bikini tops;
They poke each other, side to side, while sun cells claim their shallow eyes;
You dive - whoosh!- "Creep!" their screams decry,
"You stupid boy, my hair, my eyes!"

Your hands squeeze Lightening...

Movie rolls; we see them writhing side by side
We hear them crying, leaving here,
You kiss them, brush mottled doll-hair              
You soothe their fear, you angel King
You smooth their journey, bid them, "Bye!"


You hold more courage, more Self, more Heart
than those hollow cloned dolls on Ikea's trendy shelf near their beachfront bedrooms...
You know ...You comprehend, have come to ease their playtime wars

Your flailing arms glow in Dark and your hands hold Lightening
Bolts, brightening vacuums -
Your Mind, aeons wiser,
beyond books the Princess ever studied at Yale;
Your Heart, roomy, to calm trembling dolls' delicate new-manicured hands

Maybe one of these Days,
in Time's wise teasey Momentary spark

the Princess of Long Island
will grow up and up.....

and her Soul, her Soul, too...
may glow half as Bright as yours...
Maybe one Day...

© CherylFaith Taylor

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Hope's Daddy

She teases, giggles! "Race ya' home! You *know* I'll be there first!"
Bicycle wheel collides with Rock! Hope tumbles; she shrieks!

Oblivious, my tinny yellow Toodle-loop radio reposes on Earthen bed,
flung in pieces to Ground:
 Top Ten pop tunes silenced

(But didn't I hear...?)
Freddie serenades two girls,
climbs, climax! crescendoes! - 
oblivious to our pre-pubescent Theatre...

New Silence
til piercing shrill shriek screams!

Hope, brave agonized 12-yr-old,
broken bones cushioned by forest floor's embrace;
Burnt sienna waves a'tangle on Earthen pillows,
Evergreens; March's tentative Sun...
Sky, whispering, still holding Snow...

Hope, my friend, you broke your collarbone...
but...Your Dad will die in a freak accident, two years on; 
we had no revelation then...
Mr. Ski-Bum drove hastily Home to Brooklyn, 
Dreaming of the White White...
our beLoved Catskill Mts...
"Seven Days on, til I fly those slopes once more..."

We  didn't know; nobody Saw:
the same Circle held a more deeply sinister view:
Another Brooklyn weekender 
tied trailer to 70's boat of an auto,
huge gas-guzzler holds exotic Nascar-worthy ride 
upon a flimsy homemade wooden bed,
amateurishly tied...
Instrument of your Daddy's death, my beLoved Hope...
displayed prominently in Time's Circle...but...
How on Earth could we see the Circle, then,

We didn't know...
Your fractured collarbone Pain felt like ether,  
against your Heart's sear-ed ache when your Dad departed...
Daddy...Hope's Daddy...

I knew not how to help...
Our Friendship stole hiatus, as we rode our separate Journeys;
Where are you now, angel?
I'm so sorry, Hopey!..
Sorry for your pain, my girl...

Do you recall...your bone-crunch into Forest's loving furrow 
sent me peddling, speeding home;
  12-yr-old limbs pumping Time's barriers,
( you said, "like orange juice bolts to a hangover,")
I raced Time for Home:
"Ambulance, please!!!"
Years before cell phones...
or  911...

I blamed myself...why?
I do not remember "why"

Friday, July 8, 2011

A Friends' Guide: How to speak to a parent whose Child has Trisomy21; aka I do not have a "Down Syndrome Child..."

(Thank you, sweet Joe, for Being the Person, a Friend,  I have always known you were...Love you!) 


 (rough draft, upon finishing a Novel, which I thoroughly enjoyed, until my Heart sank, page 266)

(My forgiveness to you,  Authoress, as your ~*character*  was speaking~)...Still, after a thoroughly haunting, emotional, mesmerizing ~Experience~ of a Read, I felt completely dis-Heartened (redundant Word) at seeing:  "...helping Down syndrome kids make and sell printed sweatshirts..."  (anonymous, as I truly loved your Book, until this point, a surprising poisonous dollop of curdled whipped cream, atop your decadently delicious treat of a Read.)  When I message you, Ms...., please listen as a Mother, with your Heart; please understand that your Book has struck me as an absolute Literary Classic - you deserve every award you have earned. However, (I re-iterate) please hear me with your Heart.... And....Please feel free at *any* time, to interview me; please ask me any question you might have as to *our* experiences in having/raising a child who has Trisomy21. Please ask about my babe, who is no longer a baby, at the ripe old age of 7!

~~Reader, if you tire of my verbosity, please, at least, Read here? HearthThanks...Love to you!

     I don't have a "Down Syndrome Son" (or a French Poodle!). I have a son who "has" Trisomy 21," or "Down Syndrome". I have a son who happens to have been born with Down's Syndrome, a condition which is *not* medical; nor is it a disease. Leo was blessed with an extra chromosome. I would choose my Leo over any other baby in the Universe, given myriad choices over InFinite Centuries. I chose not to opt for amnio or any genetic testing when I carried my child, as I knew, as his Mother: Leo is strong, healthy, dynamic, intelligent, resourceful, creative; he will be more than capable than living independently in this World. Like your little boy(s), Leo plays baseball, loves vanilla or strawberry ice cream, disdains chicken (well, maybe not like your son...after all, Mommy *is* a Vegetarian); Leo lines the perimeter of his room w/his favorite Books, having decided to call them, "Leo's Library."  Leo may learn via slightly different channels than your little boy; he may be delayed in one area or another; these capabilities/differences do not make Leo pitiful or less intelligent; he is Leo. Please do not feel sorry for us, or, even worse, tell me, "I'm sorry."

Please do not assume (or say!) "He's such an angel!" All children are angels sometimes, devils at other Moments.

*~*  Sometimes, my son is the one who "helps". 
He is masterful at a great many pursuits.  He loves to "volunteer, " 
& knows the Word, even if he does not pronounce it with expertise...yet...  :)

Things you might say (or not say) which a Friend might say (or not):

1) He has beautiful eyes (they're his Daddy's British eyes) :)

2) Upon hearing Leo's "No," simply to assert himself, remind me how your son/grandson/nephew/friend's son/cousin/lover's child/surrogate son/ any little boy you adore... defiantly proclaims "No!" & will do the opposite of what you may ask him to do.

3) Tell me how your (little boy) used to...{       } Find the not focus on the differences

 4) Neither Robin (hubby) nor I = angel;  neither of us has loads of patience. Please assume I am likely a little bit tired after a Day with a young child, (remember when you may have felt the same way?)
How about sharing a bit about *your* experiences.

5) Speak with *Leo*.   Leo is a Human Being, as you are, as are any children in your own Life..
Leo is a 7-yr-old boy, & he wants you to ask ***him*** his name; he wants you to ask ***him*** "How old are you," altho "seven" can be a difficult Word to pronounce (he practises obsessively, on long Rainy afternoons, Home, with Mommy, surrounded by the wealth & Colour of his proudly, lovingly Created "Leo's Library" )

He may begin your conversation quite shyly, as, like his parents, he feels very shy about pronouncing Words/expressing his deep Thoughts, when he has not yet perfected his desired outcome of your meeting.),
He would like you to realize he is a *very* smart boy.
He loves women, from peer girls, to more mature ladies. He has a fondness for the dramatic, as well as for "femininity;"
  ok...he is curious about the differences between males & females (as I was,at his that normal?)  
....He likes women's chests! (that's something I *didn't,* at his age....or ever...) :)
He once stole my liquid eyeliner & lined his right eye, perfectly, waterline included, while lying on his stomach, without a mirror.
I still have trouble, after a couple of decades... :)
6) Read to Leo...better yet, ask Leo if 
he would like to Read (or Write, use his computer, play, Color) 
with ~you~....
(He adores your attention, & 
perhaps he might help you out with a project.)

(Every game/playtime need not be a "lesson," of any sort.
We all simply want to"Play" at times, don't we?)

7) so much more to follow, but I must curtail for ToNight; altho I love these Hours for Writing, my hubby says he cannot Sleep. My spacebar key sticks & every time I hit it, he coughs...
To Be Continued

  8) Ask me about Trisomy 21 {gets out Books, to review Science, in case that's the angle you'd like, altho, surely, you can do a Search...}           

      Leo is Musically, Athletically, Socially Talented (as well as Literally, like his Mom) :). 
Leo received the above Abilities
  a)because he is Leo,
& b) because children who are born with Down's Syndrome are **more like their parents than they are like other 
kids who have Down's Syndrome.**
(NOT: "Down syndrome kids...")

  When you meet my babe, if you are my friend, please be like my angelic friend, Joe, whom I've known for centuries, & t& tell me, "Oh, my nephews hate..." or "My nephews are afraid of..."  Normal talk about kids!

To Be Continued...Please Remember:
My son *has* Down's Syndrome.
My son was born with Down's Syndrome (Trisomy 21)
I am the proud Mommy of a child who happens to have been born with Trisomy21 (please look it up if you are uncertain)

This is a **Rough draft** !!  I can    Write more refine-edly than this Emotional Catharsis (ok...vomit)...

18,000 Thanks for Reading, Authoress...Your Novel is of a rare, Magical, imminently skilled Heart...You are a wonderfully skilled WordCrafter...I must grow a thicker skin...I do not wish to hurt you...please forgive, if I have...****Members of my own family have "slipped up" & used the exact terms you've utilized; my Mom's a Writer, too...and a Mom! always...

Sunday, July 3, 2011

Most often, the Words I Write are already inside my ...head (?) 
I discover them , as if  I've entered a secret room,
a  place where Dreams make love with Thought..

"Poetry is not a message. Messages are read and understood: 
I have a very intense dream world.
I receive 'messages'. 
I can feel it, but I do not understand..."

"Poezija ni sporočilo. Sporočila preberete in jih razumete: Imam zelo intenziven sanjski svet. Prejemam 'sporočila'.Čutim jih, a jih ne razumem, ..." 

(Thank you, Ivo Frbezar)


's review
Jul 01, 11 

5 of 5 stars
Read in April, 2011
anxious pre-Book-receipt insanity:
alas I have not read it yet...I did, however, hear the Author...discuss it...I am intrigued beyond words...
April 12, 2011

Interim comments!

I am immersed in this extremely unusual novel, reading as slowly as I possibly can, while I feel desirous of devouring the Masterpiece in a single sitting. I resent the very Moments I must steal to type these words! Yet, I am unable to contain my thoughts. Mr. Phillips has gifted his Readers with Gold. I feel so involved with the quirky, intelligent, realistically portrayed characters and their lives, they stay with me Day and Night; the Author's insights into Humanity are striking and unrivaled; he expresses these Truths in myriad, flawless, seemingly magical manners.

The comedic, ingenious narrator's "autobiographical introduction" kept me rolling with laughter, although I even shed a few tears. The Author's Creativity is unrivaled; with his uniquely imaginative ease of describing his characters and their lives, the Reader constantly wonders "Is this true?" I saw what I can only describe as ~circles within circles, or ~mirrors within mirrors, as certain characters and events, having been available to the public, reflect actual aspects of the Author's Life...or do they??

As the pages become fewer, I feel a deepening sadness...I have tried to savour the Story, delicately, carefully, so as not to arrive at an end...The Play still, my Heart! DO NOT MISS THIS NOVEL

April 17, 2011

more Interim Comments
I could have swallowed this Book whole in a Night...but I starved meself a bit, & went to see the Bard himself, at a Reading in NYC's East Village :)

*Disclaimer: I am not a Reviewer; I'm a Poetess. Perhaps more importantly, I am a Reader.
I couldn't continue to ration the "Intro" part of this Novel any longer I simply could not bear the torture of saying good-bye to the characters. Instead, I gave them each a sad little wave, and a promise to visit again soon. Unable to restrain myself, I began the Play. I feel neurotic Joy and worry. I read so quickly, I am liable to swallow this whole, in a single sitting. Discipline. Must employ discipline.

The name of the Bard who composed this Masterpiece will resound for at least another 400 years in the Minds and Souls of Readers, Actors, Scholars...
I'm sure to write more when it's all over. I'll try not to spill tears upon this page. I have not enjoyed a Literary *jewel* as much as The Tragedy of Arthur since...Mr. Phillips' other Novels: Prague , The Egyptologist , Angelica , and The Song Is You .

Release is two ! Days away! I doubt the Literary World suspects the rich surprise which will soon be unleashed, to grace Universal Bookshelves. Save a special space for Arthur Phillips' amazing Gift !

July 1, 2011

Due to Life ~stuff,~   bundled with the fear of  "I'm not a Book Reviewer,"  I am tardy in completion of my review of the *Play,* The Tragedy of Arthur , especially the second part of the Novel, which completely thrilled and amazed me. I thoroughly enjoyed every Word, everything EVERYTHING about this Play, which most certainly may have been composed by Shakespeare (or Shakespere).  I love the so - very - similarly -   Shakespearean humor, characters (flaws and lovely qualities, alike); era-appropriate-language, double entendre, iambic pentambric meter (which, endearingly, & so Shakespeareanly, often extends itself within a conversation spanning the lines of more than a solo character); I am enchanted by the extensive, oftimes modern, footnotes. The characters engaged my Heart, and I shall never forget any of them...They are multi-dimensional ~people.  The entire Book illustrates an intense love of Writing, of Storytelling; the Author showcases his ability to think and to Write layer upon layer of complex thought, multi-sensual imagery/feeling, plot, in "Seamless Circles" {Footnote below!} which I have not previously observed in any other Author of this Era...(I met Emily Bronte and a few other beLoved Muses mine who had passed before I read Arthur Phillips)... The Tragedy of Arthur may very well be immortalized as Mr. Phillips' most royally - crafted Masterpiece.

"seamless circle" are Arthur Phillips' own Words,
as mentioned in his recent essay for the Official Blog of the Library of America:

Saturday, July 2, 2011

ardour's no release

Your cerulean eyes smiled down into mine,
The Seas rocked and tumbled our steamy sweet bed
Souls touched and kindled a blaze for all Time
I remember you Then - 
Do you recognize  me?

part deux

those two tiny marks on your neck lead into the vast House of your Soul
your deepening Soul...our Souls flow'ring Mountains ;
meeting nor meeting nor speaking with you
served to break the spell you cast upon my Mind,
only deepened Torture's omnipresent, omniPotent embrace 

(experiment à deux ?)