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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, August 26, 2012

treasure (excerpt III, the "Dolls" series)

Variegated prisms display crushed trampled porcelain doll limbs;
their fragments tumble to the Riverbanked Earth –
 Fingers break and separate from his bleached hands;
the miniscule plaything begins to float, piecemeal, in the dusky, orange water.
The eyes drift gracefully upward, as in a slow-motion film,
bare ripples upon the waiting watching Water;
 their stares beseech for a few moments,
changing colors with the Sunset…
A slender, swarthy man arrives, gentle-eyed…
His hands, masculine, but delicately maintained,
Lift the doll pieces, hold them high, up in the lowering Lights,
as if in offer: humble treasure for the Dusk’s sinking Sun…
His cerulean eyes cloud; his brow ruffles;
He holds her sexless torso flat in his strong Artist’s palm;
he murmurs inaudibly…

He pockets his tiny treasure in the worn leather sanctuary of his left breast pocket.

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

el Rey de Burgundia / the King of Burgundy

thinking of his eyes...
almost I've arrived and then...
the slimy wound re-opens
Mid-SummerNight's molten Dreams scatter like tiny terrified children;
embers fly, fizzling fantasy's seams

Burgundy's King moves cruel,  behind;
slithers saintly through halls of every sickened mind,
until the Queen hits the door-slider;
the curtain disappears;

nobody sees King Burgundy's sneers except for all the cruel old Souls,
who lie in wait with sharpened claws
to teach him lessons gleaned in heiroglyphed prison walls;
encrypted fright - directives; blood-stained messages;
the true ruler set forth laws
with earlier eyes...
Dreaming of his eyes again, hie eyes again, his eyes again,
almost I've arrived -
and then...

King Burgundy's sighs fill the Mountains with the pain of all the terrible old Souls;
Dreams scatter like microscopic myopic, faceless eyes;
the lies of flies' eyes in your wine;
the eyes of flies float in your wine cup,
send their poisoned Dreams to snicker up inside your mind,
with every beat of  filthy daggered wings...
the Dream -  spiders' scatter-shows
are laws concocted based on lies
petrified notions glimpsed in tiny children's 
they can never quite recall...

King Burgundy knows nothing
King Burgundy knows all
she's Dreaming of his eyes again, his eyes again, his eyes again...
almost she arrives
almost she arrives 
almost she arrives
she never quite arrives

King Burgundy knows nothing
King Burgundy knows all
nobody sees King Burgundy's sneers except for all the old sick Souls
who lie in wait with sharpened claws

cease Dreaming of his eyes again
the lies inside his eyes
cease Dreaming

do not stop
your steps
come who may
odious beasts, are these
dream if you so desire, but blame not the Poet
enter at any point you desire {desiredesiredesiredesiredesiresdesiredesiredesiredesire}
i have a feeling you counted
encryptions in this stagnant crypt of motion
drive carefully, but darefully,
realizing all the while
earnest new Souls come dripping
agua mineral de las MontaƱas
miserly men miserable men miserly men miserable men are not nine, nor two, nor ten, nor nineteen; never -
suffice it to say, we are going under now     

Saturday, August 11, 2012

Why I Can't Sleep, and Happy BirthDay, 100 Years

Why I Can't Sleep, and Happy BirthDay, 100 Years

my pillowed head
surrounded by men's purrs, Feline, Humans, amorphous kind angelic Spirits...

I need to sleep,

but each time I close my eyes:

I see a Mind-photo:

tears drop in watercolors, like children's bubbles, blown
through August - sweltered haze,
falling, falling, falling free - purposefully...
into my nearDream Heart, here another unquiet Night -
I am Honoured
                                         Tears fall from widest eyes - I see Her!
Eyes star-strewn, ebonied
She weeps pearls 'cross screens for a saddened world;
she entertains the Immigrants; my Nina is a child;
New York welcomes
 Eastern-European Jews;
my Nina sits in the darkened theatre,
skinny legs dangle above the cinema floor;
she wonders at the huge-screened news,
my Nina, little auburn girl,
watches Theda, Aunty Chicky,
the First Great War;
"Good-bye, brother, Al."

chicken soup brews;
Snow decorates Canarsie's Dream;
tiny Nina wonders, draws circles in her frosty bedroom window,
asks Bubby, my namesake:
"Where are they taking them?"
hollow, wasted bones and flesh
move to rest in old graves, sprinkled now with pebbles;

"Garlic keeps you healthy, Edie.
Rub it into the heel of the rye bread."
and so the bread is yesterday's -
"We have all we need, maidele...Eat."

"They are taking the bodies of the victims of another Great War" -
Cleopatra's sultry eyes, her scandalously clad, barely draped voluptuousness
Gifts laughter and awe,  after newsreel horror.
I meet them then, again in now,
in Time's swirling spirals;
my genes hold their love,
share their schemes,
dream their own mothers' hopes -
one hundred years swim as teardrops in Time's tumultuous Seas
 Sleep eludes me, for quiet Time’s arrived.
I do not mind tomorrow's "tired;"
as I feel so very honoured to see
She kisses a tiny one's luscious lashes,
senses my gaze upon them,
these tiny crystal children;
their Souls ahold in teardrops;
forming puddles before my eyes;
whisper'ng Rain runs 'round the table-top,
a separate leak in Time
My child peeks through the Rain-Painted window 

I dream my hands are moist with sticky old Souls;

I know these arrive from other Lives;
my Gifts are beyond my belief, my worth!
I weep, so privileged to see Life
to hold and love you in my genes
I am so blessed to see
*~*Happy 100th BirthDay to my BeLoved Grandmother, whom I called "Nina," 
                as I could not pronounce "Nana."
Your first granddaughter misses you so very much.
 I love you so much, my Nina."
August 10, 1912 -  June 1, 2009 

*****With ForEver LOve and Gratitude to my BeLoved Mother, who has expounded upon Nina's Story long before I wrote this Poem, in her own Short Story,
Part of the memory-quilt I have tried to reconstruct is based upon my Mother's account, as told to her by her Mother, Edith ("Nina") , while much of my Writing here, as always, is more metaphorical, in an endless desire to show the interconnecting spirals I feel & see all around my blessed Life. 

"We'll meet again, we'll meet again."  (JDM)

* The Great Influenza Pandemic 1918

Friday, August 10, 2012

For Leo: You Do Not Have to say the Letter "S" with such Finesse

My Dear Child,

    I don't know if you realize how much you are loved. I write to you with tear-filled eyes. I love you so very much. Your Daddy loves you as much as I do. I think you ~are~ aware. I hope so!

     I realize you do not *have* to do all the amazing things you do. You don't *have to* say the letter "S" with such intense finesse; you don't even have to read so well. But you do. You do not have to know all the lyrics to "Bohemian Rhapsody," to Kate Bush's and Amy Winehouse's Music, to Doors Songs. If you would rather listen to children's songs, we would not be offended. You learned your alphabet when you were three! 

   Every Morning, you wake up, you dress yourself  (Daddy still helps you tie your shoes, but I see you are working on it; soon you will master that, as you do everything which comes your way.)

   I believe: your Soul is old. You had finished your work, and you landed with us to teach us a few things.
     Mommy has always been a Joyful person, amazed that my LifeTime here is realized, grateful!! You have helped me to grow, to understand who I can be, but only if I persevere. You and your Daddy have taught me how to be more patient. You have taught me to be kinder. From your example, I have learned to move a bit more slowly, to enjoy my precious Moments even more. You have even helped me to see the Joy in darker Moments. 

  You do not have to say the letter "S" with such finesse. You needn't accomplish all these tasks, which could appear difficult; but you do so anyway, because you are driven. You never give up! I have never met a person so amazing as you, Leo!!

   I would never push you if you didn't want to, but you love a challenge, like your Mommy and your Daddy. You have your Dad's technical expertise and his Joy, his patience, his intelligence,  and his obsessive drive to complete any task which is set before him. You love cars and driving, like your Daddy! You tell us you'd someDay like to own a big, blue car. I will buy it for you! You possess computer abilities and photographic skills which I shall never claim. You have your Music, from your Mommy *and* your Daddy. You have your Mommy's free and trusting nature, as well as her wide smiling eyes. Like Mommy, you love language; you practise your English word pronunciation almost obsessively, the same way your Mom learned Spanish. You watch TV in Spanish, even though your first language is English. You may have been excluded from studying Spanish in school, but you decided to learn it anyway. I am so proud when you greet Spanish-speaking children at the playground with "Hola".  I heard you last Night, while you were in your room, practising "Soy Leo."
You have your Daddy's beautifully colored British eyes. 
You love people, like both your parents. And we love you.

     Leo, you are *you*. You have *yourself,* and your *self* is beautiful. I want your Life to be full of Joy. People expect you are happy all the time, but we know that is untrue. You have many moods, as all people do. The only thing different about you is that you have a little bit extra, in the form of a chromosome. When you are a little bit older, you shall understand that more.

     Please take a rest when things seem too much; everybody else does; why shouldn't you? Be Leo. You are the only Leo on this Earth. Be You. I am so grateful to you for Being, and for Being with me on this Journey.

   With all my love always, CherylFaith ("Mommy") 

ps  I fell in love with you the Night you were conceived. No accident that you are a Valentine's Day baby. 

pps July 2015... "Your letter "s" finesse" has improved to an even greater extent. Your speech is fabulous, as is everything about you, my love. You are growing into an amazing young man in so many ways...You are, now, eleven years old!

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

photos of spiders and teardrops: several pictures of an incomplete Suite

Stars tremble, sick with the Air, all sticky stenchy
from the foreign Voices' echoes.

The Stars' stares fill my eyes with teardrops' Souls 

   little spider, little spider, 
       who did you say issued your permit to saunter 'cross his face 
        in Night's deadspace,
        to drag your stringy ink toy,
             (slicing designs you think will heal the Stars' pain)
        Have you the slightest idea of the cost to this earthly person's
          You can't see him now; he has run, 
           trailing screams maniacal, into his fresh plastic bubble;
            his mother calls, tries to tempt him with his past delicacies,
            her breasts heave madly from her fearful flight
              (the fierce battle to pierce his tent has cost her dearly -
                 we all hear her weep)

How will he reach the fire-diamonds now? 
Will the bubble move according to his will?
 Have you stolen his will, sneaky spidey?
  Have you trampled his Soul again?
Their pain cuts through me; tis unbearably heavy;

The Stars' stares fill my eyes with teardrops' Souls
The Stars' stares fill my eyes with teardrops' Souls
teardrops Souls
every teardrop holds a moving Soul, aLive
to be continued, possibly here in the phantasmagory
I don't know what it's about either; perhaps we shall discover together -
thank you for your visit - lonely times here frighten;
please return soon, won't you?
I think Mars may explain, at least in part...
oh, silly! no worries; tis only all in fun
entering your mind-mine...see?

Friday, August 3, 2012

twittery fun, August 2012 (on some people's calendars, anyway)

I follow and he follows me because I 'celebritize' rockin' elfs and secret agents!

Reply  by CherylFaith: (
I <3 elves.They visit me in Moments we can't count. If their attire be secret agent-y,I still know they're elves
I Dreamed I wed my Prince inside a Creamsickle; warm within a luxurious frozen cave,our eternal eyes promised fluffyOrange Love 

Why not?