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...

babysitter....?

(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

thoughts...

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?

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, 

climb

to help form Time's Mountains....

Mountains...

paint

these frosty shrouds remain;
good thing my Clouds refuse to stop their play... 

lazy paint 'pon changing Skies; 

maybe Time's arrived for closed eyes cycling Sands

Netflix' Series, BLOODLINE: Arthur Phillips' Seat in the Writing Room

"Danny can't leave just yet." (He can't!)
We are acquainted with the true Danny, unless the story's waves
sway us toward a different course.

My every muscle tenses; you developed his character

 til we could see, feel, imagine Danny process his most sinister drives, his thoughts.
A tense, taut, intricately wrought task 'tis to write a character as you have;
we're hooked!
Thank you for entertaining us with BLOODLINE'S most enthralling episode yet, Episode 8!
Take a bow, Arthur Phillips, my Favorite Writer in the Universe.
You can Write...Anything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Episode 8: Arthur galvanizes all previous episodes, winds these into a huge ball of barbed wire; aims at our already electrified nerves, and fires!

~~~~~
Episode 11: Also penned by Arthur, clenches previously puzzling plot details, stuns our senses and shocks us more deeply into our seats; if, by some strange chance, we were not fully magnetized before episode 11, now we discover ourselves completely immobilized, prisoners of a plot whose characters' actions and dialogue rock us over the choppy waters of a dark, tormented Sea (a character in Herself). (I imagine I am amongst a very small number of viewers who, due to various vexing circumstances, is forced to wait, possibly a day, or perhaps longer, before I may ride out these tortuously written waves to their tumultuous conclusions.)

Kudos to BLOODLINE'S Creators, 
Glenn Kessler, Todd A. Kessler, Daniel Zelman,

 for your deliciously dangerous, unforgettably original series,

 and for including Arthur on your Writing Team!

Warmest Regards, CherylFaith

ARTHUR PHILLIPS' WEBSITE

Here is a place where my Poety is often Inspired

https://www.facebook.com/CherylFaith.EighteenBillionJewels

"Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.." 

spoken by Catherine, Wuthering Heights, by Emily Brontë