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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, October 28, 2012

two WordWorks: Full Moon Fury Prong-ed Three: & a Song For Robin


her soft Moon sighs; 
pain erupts from her craters into... satire ? 
Could this be Satire, plus group-attuned hysteria?

Now be Reality for many million frightened Souls

One lonely Word Servant finds no sense sometimes
in what is "real," in which is "meant"...

Her endless moans swear ancient angers; 
trees catch her fury, echo Her yet indecisive Voice;
Need stirs the Violins anyway, to fevery-pitch...

Her Hours' long Sleep: unleash-ed Rage!
the Force of Universal Ire; 
those innocent old Mothers, forced to whisper her myriad-Mooded powers, 
morphed to
... soft ...
...inside your Mind?  

scratches on your walls, like baby cats...
Swollen Silence.

Silence ....
excepting swish-stir secrets whispered,
by marbled old Oaks,
whose rings sing Centurian Storms' dirged Stories,
rumoured cravings for cleavage: desperate grapplings toward saplings* :

"Hold us, children..
We are unprepared to go over;
our Survival Together
glows, is Paramount.
See Her Majesty swirling, Her eyes, bright-glee-glee greedy?
See she's reeling in Others: sentries, strongmen, 
magic maniacal women who weave webs 'round your feet if you sway in Earth's floor;
They take you.
They know only respect for Her Majesty's urgent Expressions

She lunges, tosses pure Emotion, churning, burning,
(TheTrees TheTrees TheTrees!)
May we Be Together Here
We need be strong Together, love,

for only in "Together" 
 may we Live,
may we Survive
 Our kaleidoscopic Journey dictates:
"Ride Her torments,
the Joys, Her Gifts,
 ForEver in plain View,
as long as you want  us;
so long -
Hear Her Fury!" 
Our Chorus can resound at least as loudly as Hers - ?
Our Hearts understand;
Our Genes know how -

I bow my head before Her eyes, "My Esteemed, my wise BeLoved Teacher...!"


"Children, your spindly limbs support sorrows greater than you realize."
Are the ancient Stories True?
Thou hast shown us photographs:
smokey haunted Winter Tempest backgrounds set ... *

Movement II :  For My Only Love, For Robin

You wonder 'bout that argument: 
my anguish begs me whisper you 
inside this threat'ning calm, my love,

My deepest Heart, my Soul's Embrace:

our shouts announced ghosted Starbursts in Her Night's fresh waking choir, 
Voices, clouded, long Before, now Awake! Awake! Awake!
 Her Rage-blown surging powers - 
Their Victory mountains seize, scrape, scream through pipes; you scorch our throats!

Isis speaks:

"Lovers, lovers,  
Still this Night. Be One. Be One. 
Be One."
Ssssshhh.....hush, my darling, quiet your Heart, let me hear you beat;
 please don't leave no matter how I swing in Winds;
without you I am naught; afloat, alone; I cannot Be...this empty LifeTime...I will wait...

You ForEver hear my Voice wail Emily-toned for you, angel Prince
ForEver Yours; my Heart links yours;
I will await you on the Moors;
I will await you in your England, Tolkien's lanes, grey Skies, our Joy;
I will await you

All Night she spent on the doorstep waiting for BigLadyFury..
Her husband wept indoors, dismissed by his lover.
Her tiny insignificant Words flowed on paper, blurred by Winded tears,
til she realized: 

her watered eyes hugged blurred Rainbowed visions, only showed profound, frightened Love:
Fear her Love would go;

wasted Moments

Now he sleeps, her Prince, 
peaceful purrs with Cathy-Cat at his feet,
while his three AM, dazed lady makes a record
not an embrace

Thursday, October 25, 2012

Dear Sir Mick,

      I love how you sing & dance! My favorite songs are:

1) Miss You
2) Angie
3) Sympathy For the Devil

     I love to watch you and all the Rolling Stones sing & play your instruments;  I especially love when you, Mick, play the harmonica (I play harmonica, too, but not as well as you do!) & the guitar (I want to learn!)  I also love drumming along with Mr. Charlie Watts.

   My mommy is from NY State, but I was born in England's West Midlands, where my dad was born. My mommy brought us here in 2005, after she lived in England for 4 years. 
Mommy calls us her "two British-boys" :)

   I will be 9 on November 6 !  I am having a little bowling party near here on Sunday, November 11th.
I would be so happy if you could come.  The party will be very small: a couple of my friends, my parents, & my American grandparents. I am a fantastic bowler!. My high score is 179! I usually get about 110...

   I know you are *very* busy, & maybe I shouldn't ask you, 
but I would so love to have you be guests at my party! 
      My parents told me you might be nearby in November. We live approx. 1 hour North of NY City. 

    Please forgive me if I am bothering you. 
My mom says the only way to do anything is to 
begin with a Dream...    
 It's my bedtime now, & I am going to sleep listening to you sing.  

    I hope I get to meet you. I would never forget it in a million years!!!

   Even if you can't come, thank you so much for thinking about it.   My mom says you can contact her at an email address, although she knows you are very busy with your new tour! How exciting!!!!!
Mom says she, too,  has loved you her whole Life! 
   Thank you, Mick! I love you and I love all of you, The Rolling Stones! 

   Love, Leo

 Please let my mommy know? Her name is CherylFaith . My daddy is named Robin. Thank you!!!!   :) XOXOXOXO

Mostly, my mommy puts Poetry on this site, but she also posts photos of me. :)

*You can see more pictures of me all over this site. 
Here are a few when I played football./soccer a couple years ago:

*Here you can see where my party will be: (**the Bowling pics)

My mom has written to you before. 
On Twitter, she is:
Mick, mommy wrote to you on Whosay. I think she may be pestering you. 
She says to tell you "sorry!" 


ps   Usually, my mommy writes Poetry here;  she wrote you these Words a little while back, not exactly Poetry...

Monday, October 22, 2012

Circles II : Scenes from the Life of a supposed Poetess