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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

Monday, November 2, 2015

Matte Dusk

 Dusk has painted her drowsy Lights in colours muted, softly sighing, 
Sleep and Moon resume their reign; again, again, in Silent home,
but Cats' caress,
 deep choraled snores in drone...
Dreams Live then, 

Gold profusion,
 Night's sighs paint our Theatre's warm-ed Air

we're ready -
then -
I shall listen, my Heart, my Soul and I,
to thy Music


Saturday, October 10, 2015

Zephry's Breath

the Olde Ones owned me,
then threw me out to Free Air -

I still don't know who caught me -
whilst I burst, spinning, to my dizzy doom-full Fall;

I'd hoped she'd be Aphrodite –

Zepher's heavy breaths
tiny purpled me;
blown, thrown,
                me -


"Prithee...  ?
I seek sanctuary en la santita's flailing arms -
Thou seest  ?
a brand's a’blaze atop me maiden's fire."                                                         

"Undesirable Company.

"but ...but...
Bloody sainted HoldMums bounced me !
Molten Mattress-Springers screeched !
Their sickly cackling laughter sear-ed screams
charcoaled my teeth.  " {sobs}

III epilogue

I've scattered -
I have lost me

amor, be wary ;  can't afford to lose thee

Thursday, October 8, 2015

part 1, Excerpts f/Burgundy Curtains

(a fragmen, firstly penned in Autumn 2015)   to be continued...)

Thoughts on Burgundy Curtains (notes)
Please: Open for me the heavy burgundy curtains,
those you brought overseas from England, my love;
Whilst they strangle me,
their Patchouli incense floats over me, enters me,
they cast their spells; I shall not let them destroy me -
I am protected by every vestige of love you invested in Your Theatre;
each time you touched these Curtains to determine who might visit,
I do remember - but cannot speak to you of your memories- lest I hurt thy tender Heart -
These curtains I found so stultifying in England, they hold your many memories
of Love and Chocolate, (a One, are they not?)

I close these curtains for you only for another Moment...
one more Moment matters not so much as your smile's bloom in my Heart...
Until you are ready to open them again.
I shall try my best to see them only as Curtains for Windows,
hung to hide 'gainst prying eyes' imagined nosy scenes...
but I can't help myself, my angel -
I see your Windows, daily with you;
I enter them,
as we are one, my angel;
We are one.

My ache for your pain has me wakeful more than any Actor, or Poet,
more bruised am I with each injustice you feel...
These aromatic stultifying, cat-haired curtains
speak of our precious love, my SoulMate -
forget thee not that I shall never let you fall,
whilst around us, our shared Universe struggles to breathe;
unceasing battles may ensue in pools of darkness,
but our love breeds only Good and Light
in this world we prepare for our child.
 I am Rich in Love and Joy.

 (distracting, connected interruption notes ? see you later)

I neither Sleep nor eat

Then again, what can be sweeter for me these Days than 
Insomniac Nihts due to being a-Mused?
If I be  a slave to Words and I am driven to inscribe
my Dreams on paper, so it be -
perhaps I'll be a happier Mommy, a better Wife,
if I can Write and Sleep by Day...

....I've heard a person can perish from being wakeful Night 'pon Night.
I do not want to leave -
I'll cling to this LifeTime with every Breath of my tiniest cellular prisms,
despite these Lights which live for me by Night,
 whilst my babies sleep in blissfull peace

Saturday, August 15, 2015


durante la Tormenta... aqui te enseñaré las lluvias mias...
During The Storm; Here I will show you my Rains 

Her Soul in her Eyes
Her Eyes are speaking
Her wild Starred Eyes
glow with a ragefull Morning Sun 

Horizons have changed
Earth scorches her feet
Arrows fly from her Eyes
pierce the stolen Horizon 

Friday, August 7, 2015

Poem by My SoulMate, II

Drawn long ago
The Artist long since passed
Her name lost to us
Then found
Whispered in shadow
O' thy lady of light and flame
With thy name I
Banish the darkness
Though always encircling
For darkness is patient
Darkness falls not fails
Light  changes form
And names. In this
Her circle of light
I stand and wait

© Robin Taylor, August 2015

Poem by My SoulMate I

Erased in seconds
Energy cascades
Air becomes fire
Light becomes pain
Shock wave
All is dust, ash
Despair, all that stands.

Returned to elements
By force instantaneous
The cloud rises
Here man maketh
Hell become real
Here the children melt
Here love and hate
Are gone only the light
Pure annihilation
So great we are
We have chained Nature
To our cause,
A violent percussion.

© Robin Taylor, August 2015

Thou art a Genius, my BeLoved.

Sunday, July 12, 2015

A-Mused by Mads Mads Mikkelsen (hi, Carla) :)

" A-Mused by Mads Mikkelsen "

I fall again into the hands of vultures who parade as man.
A candelabra burns me with His Light
I cannot Sleep.

Already vegetarian; twenty years, no meat!
ToNight a plum’s sweet juices sprayed me - Eat ?

I’ll grow emaciated, meet Kafka in my Dreams again (please ?)
Kafka, dear man, Genius, Vampyre?
How doth it all connect, my friend ?
Why doth each piece caress ?

(a whisper to Twitter's Carla Mikkelsen|| 76 @daddymads

Classic Cinematique Beauty, Male; Phantasmagoric, even sans gore?
See now more clearly how Mads ~must play The Vampyre?)

Oh, dear me! A fan again, am I ? (I am! )
Hold tight to Woman’s goddess Light, (I do ! )
but Play can steer a lady into places drear'ly-lit,
where Hours mean naught; 
Sleep’s but deceit -
Love lies with langourous elegance;

inside my Mind
 he fingers me, 
devours my Humanity

disguised as man
his stroking hand  
seizes my tenuous Life;

His breath still sweet with bella Donna's lips
I'm twice betrayed -
this monster's Kiss be Death 

Within this stultifying vault,
Phantasmagory’s ‘live once more;
With eyes lit firey, men like you
Can only feast –
Sweet Death be mine - you thrive !

But How to do my Day, to love my men, my cats, my “real Life” ?
When Moments flee and I go lost
in mazes mused by foreign men,
Actors who repose whilst wakeful women sing their Songs?

Excerpts from "Burgundy Curtains"

    ~~(firstly penned Autumn 2015~~

    I must now! close my eyes, my weary Curtains,
    rest them ready for a near alarm,
    sweet Music clock, in my little tiny phone-

    I wake for thee and thee, despite my every mundane physical or psychic pain. .

    I ask a Universe of Muses,
    bid them speak through me, 
    as Dawn's yawns begin their cease,
    plead with them to return after I repose, if only an hour,
    as you are my greatest Muse, mi amor;
    you and you, little man, my beloveds... !
    (my child giggled at one of his own Muses -
    they come often into his Sleep;
    he speaks with them, my tiny Troubler, Troubadour)
    You are my main Muses and I pray to every Deity of Good,
    every Light-bearing Lady,
    to do my best for thee Today,
    for my big thee and my little thee ("dee?")

    please help me to do right by them, 
    kind-Hearted, drowsy Moon,
    still sighing softly, hovering, caressing our home, 
    our Solo Heart.
    GoodNight to the Dawning Light -
    despite my many flaws,
    I am going to Sleep before you're fully Borne

Tuesday, July 7, 2015

Fabric frayed to Newly Woven

Fabric de-fraying,
   lately woven,
     always more...

These are either related pieces, or they are not...
They are Borne in different ~places~  but a few of them are multiples of a single Suite

*Please take them as you will...
I would love to know  what you see, what you feel with any of your senses, as you read...
Please comment freely...
Poetry is for the Reader; please open any door, and in you walk...

Poetry is always best read ALoud... even if you whisper...

    If these verses are disconnected for you, you are absolutely *correct*

       If you see connections amongst them, you are absolutely *correct*

   Thank You for being here, my friend...xox CherylFaith


I'd sooner be a Princess, Love and Poetry, my riches,
than a millionaire of monied Dreams;
Fabric frays, while Words remain


sexiest act I Dream he'd perform upon me:
 He'd Read to me, a Literary Classic,
 perhaps a lost Poem by eternal Sappho**
or a bit of Magic Blake...


His eyes skim the inherent Magic, the Mysteries carried in Words;
While he Sleeps,
 Murk births a SeaWeed-swathed angel;
 Lost Lotus Lady emerges 



Step toward thy Dreams with care, steamy nympth;
You know not with whom thy pretty cockerel hath lately lain

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

diamonds flambéed

Your eyes hold Storms;
Your Stormy eyes brew my Magic

Flames lick hot Skies inside your eyes; 
jeweled Raindrops drip from Trees,
Her arms sweep Stormy Air to stroke us...

HeartThank thee for thy blessed Flame, my child, my sweet one; 
see Nina wave us kisses from a NightSkyFull of Flame?

I see your eyes' quick diamond shimmer as you stroke me in my Dreams; 
We lay laughing, Moonlight paints Her Gifted jewels between Trees' eaves

I don't know how to keep going sometimes-
seems each Day holds more pain-
but the aching Beauty of all we are,
our Writing, Paintings, LoveSongs;

II the Loft 
(Irony of the Word, "lofty" -
ought to be a false cognate)

slick bodies, secret faces, dancing eyes hide sick torn memories-
a far-away awakening one drunken night - a NEVER "yes" -
nevertheless - a movement, revulsion; a pounding-
knock knock knock..
she secreted you the key?" ?!
a sister- mine- a "friend" ???
"Off of me! Get away!Get Away Go away Help me Help!{weeps} You are not him..."
uninvited horror grows
attic memory, "girls' night"...grey...down another... c'mon, just one more."

uninvited horror grows
their hazy attic girls' night play, her thighs -

On We Go
All soon falls together again, a ball of Life, a growing Circle-
a glow removed
a growing circle
smoke-rings beneath flourescent lights;
she writes behind all-nighters' eyes **

beautiful Felines, my friends from Ever,
gather 'round me for a session: caresses, petting, coos;
They groom me as a sister,
efficient tongues, papered desert sands...
they sing to me of their birthplace...
Times throughout my Life,
I meet a special one; he knows me more -
'Recognize' flickers between our eyes;
the jeweled flame dances join
the blurry static horizon 'tween places; 
I thank thee, prince, for Gifted entrance to your world,
for opening pathways: feel our Lives touch, go 'round...
I see cats, my parents, my child, my Neen,
I see everyone who's circled...
and always always always
I see thee, me love...
     I begin to see nonsense in my Gifted senses
nonsense makes all sense;
graces for these Gifts
a thousand thanks shall never be sufficient
to show thee
how much I love my Life
love my Life
I love my Life

please don't go

why must everything weigh heavy with meaning
the smallest sparow's chirp,
the changed Words
the charg-ed  Words;
dust speck beneath murky lamplight,
a ceiling corner's webbed home 
milk-swirls in my coffee...

all exquisite,
Beauty omnipresent ,
this flickering flame

Your eyes shine forever in these jeweled diamond dances
Our jeweled flame romances-
We are part of this flame...
We are the flame

 My unbidden tears
I hear your voice again, me love,
I feel you.
as soft pink dust peeks from a corner,
lit by la Luna,
as She colours Skies early in November,
tears at three o'clock PM,
the shock of being somewhere else,
all will come again to one...
Her smile forms tears as we share the secret between us-
All is open, all we share...
Do all lovers feel this way?

Flames lick hot Skies inside your eyes; 
jeweled Raindrops drip from Trees,
Her arms sweep Stormy Air to stroke us...

Your eyes hold Storms;
Your Stormy eyes brew my Magic

© CherylFaithTaylor, 2015 June 

*for my SoulMate, Robin Taylor,
in every LifeTime-
I love you 

** for Joyce Carol Oates; great Literary Lady:
you continue to confound me, confuse me, 
to confront with me
 a few demons
who always linger
I appreciate your affirmation


Saturday, May 30, 2015

Love Letters to Dr. Franz Kafka: Poema I, Poema II, Poema III

Love Letters to Dr. Franz Kafka
Poema I, Poema II, Poema III 
(in review)

 " Love Letters to Dr. Franz Kafka: EnSuite "

July 2015 (first seen in July entry, 2015... from "Fragments frayed to newly woven")
 the Kafka love letters move around)

sexiest act I Dream he'd perform upon me:
 He'd Read to me, a Literary Classic,
 perhaps a lost Poem by eternal Sappho

 (that Steamy July Night, 2012)

 *~* here lay a tiny exercise:
       I showed you the exact Words which flowed as they flowed...pre corrections...
           I continue to polish this beloved piece, as I feel happy within its Telling:

Poema I
Here, Dear Reader:

(I was visiting the meadow's Mind after Kafka stung me;
Eudora* rocked me in her arms);
Theda's wicked wanton lips tickled King T's twice-chewed ear;
she Gifted him his Jeweled years to play anew;
whilst watching this regal show, so privileged I,
my pen a-rose; she flew across the room;
incredulity aside, I thought I ought to tell you...   :

... hide inside the billowy Poem's walls...
Seek comfort in her Poem’s steamy,
 BloodRich, Moon-mouthed chambres

the invisible woman blushes;
for the length and space of an elvin breath
her mind projects faery-hued purple orchestrations
to dance symphonic colours all over the King's walls...
angelic grace, a mid-Moon's face,
a song his Heart hath twice remembered eighteen thousand years from now;
all suddenly flame his grief-torn, solemn Soul;
his Ego steps, shy, gingerly aside -

the Tortoise King lumbers up to the silent princess;
he pretends two strong legs can move his body;
at once he climbs astride his Lady;
Finally, the King’s ride arrives...

Sans cease, of Dark, of Silence Borne:
Night's ivory mares raise regal heads;
their eyes flash joy to know their King shall ride anew

**more than one Muse o'mine animated these Poems:
 Dr. Franz Kafka, who haunts and Inspires me!
For Mr. Arthur Phillips, Author, Friend...
Thank You for Writing, unlike any other Word-Worker; 
Thou Art Magical Inspiration

 Eudora Welty spoke to me a bit as the above, 
Poema I, fell thru my fingers
& more, of course~

*every* piece of Poetry I allow to sail or trundle its way through me,
 I hereby dedicate to my beloved husband and SoulMate, Robin Taylor.

Friday, November 16, 2012

Love letters to Dr. Franz Kafka...

I shall be adding to these. The Words will come from various places.

I have an urge to go another way with Time...
This Time
( ToDay is August 16, 2014, as measured by some)

& somehow, Inspired by Robin Williams,
I wonder if Robin Williams liked Kafka. Somehow, I imagine the answer is "yes" -
I like to Dream so...
Kafka has me captive on his DreamCloud.
Thick black smoke surrounds, but harms us not.
Before he stole me from the Party,
He shrouded us in cloaking-bubble blankets.
(I keep finding Kafka in my Writings. He awaits me here, but
most of the Time,
he lies, bones and muscles, soft, yet strong,-
He be long curved angles all over the pages,

He sweeps circles over the covers, -
my purple - covered,
  spiral- boundless notebooks.

His notebooks astound me; their aromas intoxicate me
so I nearly lose my breath. I grow lost inside his dawning Evening shadows.
Notebooks feel more sacred as Night claims lazyDusk;
as we ascend, we carry upon our backs
satchels-full of Books, pens, papers of every material and size known to Humans;
the load should be burdensome, cumbersome,
yet I feel featherLight, wave hello to whistling sparrows

Dr. Franz' papers are ephemeral, ethereal...
As he moves us across Night's Deep-Eyed Sky, 
ancient papyrus rustles on affable breezes,
a stylus scratches early Stones;
I see heiroglyphs in chisel.


Dr. Franz gifted me a special sack in which to place my notebooks and my pens,
my Crystal blues hide beneath a tiny, invisible Door, much like a CatFlap,    but
more like a mouse-hidey-hole
no pen need ever alone again, without a hand to warm its holy blood
8 September , 2013

Franz' hands; his fingers: long, soft brown; 
his face of purest, delicate Moon - Wolf;
his angled shapes illuminate and round my empty cave;
my long-lost graven Snow-drifts, 
dipped in these Days' solemn honeyed-hopes...
Full now, with dreams; 
my softened screams;
I thank thee, curtsy; 
so clumsy am I to thee, lost Prince...
Rich with his diamonds I'm stranded here whilst in & out he fades

movimientos: I

purple bubbled "p" pops; tis letter number three in "sip your drink, mate..."..
.everything slants shrilly once again;
I feel me slipping...falling---
pity, as Purple stands Royal,
like that Creature in your glass...
purple letters create too much noise...
Movements II : consoling Violets

Limbo'ed Raven-Folk reside in card-hotels;
those who do not fear.
those who do not dare to fear-
they visit -
we kiss them through a tiny violet window in the grove -
candles flicker, blaze the orchard;

our card-hotel sign screams, "Open"

Violet screams when forced to see
these purple letters follow me
I must console my desperate friend -
(I drop her into your glass again)
now breathe....breathe  -

We will pretend our bravest selves
to visit where the Ravens flow in
Violet's Rivers,
beside those card-hotels who stole her name -
I think she'll dream upon reprieve -
Will she dream a new return?

Intermezzo (in a bug-pub)
a "bug-pub is a solution for those who cannot stop the Meta morphoses

"you've poured more than a solo query to the (very ugly) bug," declared
two tense-worthy causers who live in black shoes;
heir stiletto heels in a bunch: (our profound "pretty ponds")
afloat with plasticine piles, protruding beetles
climbing, creeping through thick-fuurred sticky Night.

movements III  "tormenting Violets"
the kafka bug, he be a bloated - bellied guy –
He rolls round toward her purple door
"I love the sound of the Word,
"Violet," he oozes,
his wirey hair askew
askew in a silent whirring wind
we cannot see

all our worlds askew at once
all our Words cyclone, torment Violets,
pass, whistling, through each other's rounds -
May we catch them, ball their electric dream hair into sense,
heal Violet's insomnia?

magenta dustballs rise like lies
afloating round his head as he eats exits.
© CherylFaith Taylor,  2015

Sunday, May 24, 2015

"British Rose".... {hears Elton John tearfully sing to a lost Princess}

British Rose".... {hears Elton John tearfully sing to a lost Princess}

in progress:  this is how it emerged at first, upon seeing:

"Jessica Stam shot by Patrick Demarchelier for British Vogue May 2008. 
"British Rose".... {hears Elton John tearfully sing to a lost Princess}
Profuse Beauty
three Nations' gardens,
wild with Moon...

Moody swooned
Jane's love-gloomed Moors;
Shrubbery, tamed; gnome-guarded-heavens, groomed
Who really guards your English gardens?

your Flowers: aromas, tastes, voices, Music...
inimitable aromatic mix:
blend here,
("no! not there,, like this," - sings a woman in a Halesowen charity shop,
She's twenty years transplanted,
I still see her wide Germanic smile...)

(Be that Rain's harmony on the roof,
or be it me lost Love's HeartBeat?)
sudden brief Rains ensuite...
a pinch of subtle macabre

Cross the Seas,
My special child,
a mix of cultures, yours and mine:
So pass the hours, too quickly- I never knew; did you?

Last Night, as he lay in wait to drift,
Aunty Kate sang "Delius",
then "Oh, To Be In Love,"
another mix;

(My child, if you could know the depth of my love for thee...)
My head upon your big-boy-Heart,
quick-paced as years ago; you're a Lion!
"Oh, to be in love..." Kate's layered Magic,
one track aligned with your HeartBeat, exact.
I laughed; mommy's tear fell upon your cheek,
and your giggle brought it all back, my Life,
me Love,
You both bring it back, everytime we circle.
My beloveds...

My four years Lived in England's West Midlands, the open Air markets of Halesowen and Dudley;

friends I'd made with whom I've lost touch...
Birthplace of my beloved husband and our Gifted son...To thee I sing

** “…my English Rose…” Elton John, Bernie Taupin 
**“Delius” and “Oh, To Be In Love” Kate Bush
place of my beloved husband and our Gifted son...

Sunday, May 17, 2015

full-bellied crickets

when the Air hangs heavy with Winter's frozen memories,
a wish for that sweet aether;
no tears to relieve, lest
Aphrodite's weep devour Minerva's secret smile; 


full-bellied crickets, 
portents in Song,
serenade the Day-
 if we dare succumb,
wait not for Night to lull us

Tuesday, May 12, 2015



  Mother's Day wishes all around.

Here is my first and my ~for Ever favorite Mother's Day Gift. Thank you, Robin.

I am eternally grateful you chose me, Little Man, Leo, 
to be your mom, in this LifeTime.

I have no idea why Leo blushed and said,
 "Mommy, I look like a girl in this photo." :)

However, he persists in his desire to let the back of his hair grow like Jim Morrison, one of his favourites. I must admit: I adore his cherubic curls. His face has begun to resemble Mommy's side a bit more lately; he's been reminding me of my younger siblings when they were his age.

Let me tell ya' The Truth about Time, little man, little man mine...
the Truth about Time...

Thursday, April 23, 2015

all-night-awake-again...little girl, little girl, photographs... lined up in albums like soldiers against Time's

(the "r" key on the Smith-Corona stuck, too)

little girl, little girl,
photographs... lined up in albums like soldiers against
Time's generally perceived stone walls

we wander through;
Little girls cry
little girls cry again.
little girls wander through walls
while tears, big, round, real,
(each tear is noted and rolls like a globe down little girls' cheeks...)

 My sobs at your adieu- thine ears awoke? 
No amount of crystal Words 
this second Dream my Heart survives, I fear

How can you let this happen?
You tricked me into seeing it again,
the same Dream again,
no matter how glossy you make it...

(How can you let him inhabit our memories?)

photos, falling from albums -
sticky disappeared? maybe somebody slipped in a memory.
did she ever really look so beautiful?
you say she still lives in the very same house...
I remember a photograph, the two of them in arms beneath the attic's overhanging eaves...


(How can you let him inhabit our sacred house-full of memories?)

My sobs at your adieu- thine ears awoke? 
No amount of crystal Words 
this second Dream my Heart survives, I fear

Sunday, April 19, 2015


Perhaps one Day we will all find each other in another LifeTime &
wonder where we met before.
What Universe was it, my friend.
Do you recall?

Monday, April 13, 2015

National Poetry Week, Honoured...more to follow

Thank you for posting my favorite Sonnet of all!  @chicagoshakes

William Shakespeare's Sonnet 18 seems uncanningly named. 
The Word for the number, 18, Chai, or Chaya, 
is the same as the Word for "Life" in Hebrew.
Number Eighteen is a Mystical number...

*~*~*Please Scroll Beneath the photos,
or after you  have seen them enlarged,
as i have more for you...

**I have revised my Twittery post, as I did not fit the Words into those one-hundred forty characters:

Upon reading Shakespeare's Sonnet 18

Each time I read these Immortal Words,I rejoice!
I see my Love and I are newly borne.
My fears flicker out as Stars which find Life again in 

a floating, liquid Universe
A "floating Universe:"  
a Waiting Room,
where Souls recycle; 

these "Souls" spring from all which has Lived,
all which has Loved...or has been BeLoved

ignited anew in a Dark smokey chamber,
hashish and deities' incense,
 sweet intermingles with bitter-burnt intent
a purity test...
Souls spring into feelings, spark fresh Hearts, 
to help form Time's Mountains....