Twitter share button


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 9, 2016

Caverns: These are further fragments from a Play-lette which has been in progress (haunting me, so to speak) for several years

a LifeTime in a Moment:Borne of a blaze,
we awakened,
each of us prisoners
globefulls of fire, Earth, Air, Sky, 
all Space
 we're tossed 'round the canyon;

our raven hair flies everywhere,
but it anchors us to the Earth 
(I sleep? I wake?)
'twas a cyclone-like-Dream in a Moment replete...

 Leaves caught, blown brittling, o'er our Windy Raven's hair,
it stops -

our eyes interlock, love a Life in a Moment
We are thrown to The Mountain's arms, reBorn)


ancient goddesses round a chasm;
the Mothers know all, and their Songs, full-concerto,
"I will be with you,
be with you .... be with you, little girl."
Always, Mamá? pa' Siempre?*
Where might you have flown, Mamá
when Lightning sliced open the Firey tormented Sky?

May I count upon you Sister
in Dawn's fragmented colours?
Now the Mothers have - disappeared? 
       (No! No, hermanita** ! No! I can't believe - I know they are with us
still ....
still, in this broken Dawn,
this preternatural stillness of it all ....

the Prism has been tossed beneath The Mountain - listen- sshhh ....

May I call you "Sister?"
Hold my hand as we hide in this ancient Mountain dwelling
'neath the rocky eaves of yore, I may need
Momentary lies.
After the torrential Rains, the torment blown open our hiding place,
please tell me Breathe-worthy lies, dear sister -
I share your Mind's elasticity (you know that)
soothe me with your wisdom
as I refused to listen (you witnessed)

We'll shelter here in this primitive Home.
When Dawn has finished breaking,
hand in hand, down the Mountain, we'll clamber ;
We  were Borne to piece together
The Great Prisms' colours.
Close your eyes, sweet strong one,
of colt-like legs (remember the horses?),
of doe-Dreamy eyes,
and rare diamondine Water, Mothers' Gifts from the Skies.

We are the originals, the morphing invisible saviours,
Please remind me, sister mine.
Remember the mothers, their stories,
their huge eyes of chocolate and gold -
I can see them - I know you can, too.
Come now, sister,

*pa' siempre = Spanish = "for always" (contracted "pa" = "para" )

**hermanita = affectionate Spanish for "little sister"

      Si, queridas amigas mias, estoy pensando en ustedes. Las llevo en mi corazon siempre. Es un misterio hermoso de la vida mia. Las quiero mucho. pero mucho. De veras, aunque piensen que yo soy una loca, creo que nos conocimos en otra vida .... Las extrano y las mando fuerte abrazos y flores las mas bonita que crezcan. Pero ustedes son mas bonitas que las flores ....

     Que sepan, amigas: esta es una obra de ficcion ,... de pura fantasia. Pero ustedes, y sus familias me regalaron la oportunidad de ver el sitio mas hermoso del mundo. Creo que estaba yo viendo y recordando su tierra, y eso me inspiro tanto que me entro la mente cuando escribi esta obra, y la que me vino primeramente - pueden leer el link abajao de estas palabras.) Yo se que ustedes no son hijas de las aztecas .... su cultura es mas pura, aun mas fuerte, mas hermosa  .... Espero que siempre siga   su cultura, tambien su idioma Otomi .... Gracias por ser mis amigas .... tambien mis amigos. Los quiero muchote ustedes. Siempre tienen parrte de mi corazon.

Saturday, October 8, 2016

For my Nina (lines composed early October, 2016)

To all who celebrate:
 We wish you a 5777 full of sweetness, good health, Joy & Love.

Below: My grandmother with me a few years back.

     I am her first grandchild. As a child, I was unable to say "Nana,". Instead, I called her "Nina." The name stuck like honey, and her other grandchildren and her many great-grandchildren called her "Nina". Even her own children came to refer to her as "Nina" after awhile. Sometimes, we shortened her nickname to "Neen." My beloved Grandpa, Leo, had a license plate custom-made for her: "Neen". 

     My Heart broke like never before, that grey Spring Evening in 2009 when we laid her emaciated physical body to rest.Months later, at her unveiling, despite my steady stream of grief , somebody, probably my mother and my uncle, or perhaps my cousins, had had "Neen" engraved, along with her given names, upon her tombstone.

      At the age of 97, Nina remained aware of  world-wide current events; she was more computer-literate than I; she had been working on a huge genealogy project which spanned Centuries. (She completed much of her project, via the Internet and via handwritten letters in at  least three languages, before the inception of ancestors . com.) Even after she suffered a disabling stroke, for several weeks, Nina continued in her awareness of all that went on around her. I actually thought she would recover, because my Neen could do anything. As an adult, I held onto my belief that she was immune, somehow, even to mortality. One of the last things Neen wrote before she journeyed to join her husband, my equally missed and beloved grandfather, Leo, her parents, siblings, and ancestors: a brief note to send love to my husband, who was working during my visit, upon a too-silent May afternoon.  She could no longer speak much then, but she wanted us to know she was still capable of Writing; that she had retained the Spanish she'd learned at NYU as a young woman, and that she had fully accepted Robin, who was of a different faith.
Nina wrote: "mi amor a Robin". She had retained the Spanish she'd studied at NYU back around 1930.

     My Nina's passing has continued to be miraculous. Since 2009, she has appeared to us in various ways. She has spoken to me through several Dreams, as well as by actions. On my birthday, a couple of months after she passed, I was alone, cooking spaghetti in the kitchen, when she dropped the previous year's birthday card on my head . I keep no greeting cards anywhere near the kitchen. This particular card featured a SunFlower, which she knew to be my favourite, accompanied with a message she knew I would understand: She wanted me to focus upon Life's Joys, rather than to dwell upon our sadder Moments. My husband witnessed the birthday card incident, as well as the crystalline marble we discovered, a few days ago, upon a stressful Autumn afternoon; the large marble appeared out of nowhere. Its colour is reminiscent of the beautiful hazel eyes she'd had .... I have come to understand that both she and my grandfather have never really left me.

     Recently, we moved to a new town. As I walked in late afternoon's Summer Sun toward the house, hours before the first Night we would sleep in our new abode, I noticed a piece of ivory-coloured paper slightly a'flutter in a soft late Summer breeze. I thought I had dropped one of my son's school papers. My arms full of a box of books, I crouched to retrieve the paper, which had begun to take on the appearance of a mischievous little feather, waving at me, a winsome grin upon its face. To my utter shock, upon the top step of our new abode, lay, a'flutter, a copy of my Grandpa Leo's United States naturalization paper! He smiled up at me, a handsome, dark-complexioned man of thirty-one. I do not recall ever having possessed this paper. Tears of Joy welling in my eyes, I ran to Robin, telling him that  Grandpa Leo had welcomed us into our new home. I saw, or more like felt, the presence of my maternal grandparents. They had blessed our new living quarters.

    I am not religiously observant, but I feel connected in ways of the Spirit. I honour my gandparents and all who preceded them, for they are each a part of who I am; their genes course through my blood. The love I feel for them shall never fade. They keep constant vigil over their children, their grandchildren. I am not at liberty now to tell their stories, but my grandmother has appeared to help other members of my family, even in clearer, more tangible ways. I view nothing as strange; I am connected and I don't believe we ever truly die. I imagine many other people, or, perhaps all of us, feel this sensation: we are directly wired to our ancestors, our beloveds who have seemingly left this world.

     I have come to understand Judaism as a rich, tapestried culture, in addition to its status of 'religion'. Despite the fact that I do not really follow religious teachings, I know, I physically *feel* my Soul's interwoven strands; I am an integral, interwoven segment of a brightly coloured, musical, magical Soul tapestry composed of all the Souls who have come before me. I am a square in the quilt my Nina painstakingly pieced together for me of the clothing I wore as a child. (I lie upon this artistic masterpiece as I type these words .... )

    I wish *everyone,* all my brothers and sisters around our shared tiny world, beautiful days, balmy evenings, but most importantly, despite our countless varied origins and ethnicities, I wish you sweetness, good health, Joy & Love.

     CherylFaith, in constant Awe

I love you, my Neen. 
     With gratitude, with never-ending love, your first grand-daughter, CherylFaith

                    a brief, related Poem 

Saturday, September 24, 2016

SunFlower's Kiss

A smokey-voiced chanteuse caressed you;
Each time she glimpsed you making love.
She rocked you in her "SunFlower Song"
Perhaps you couldn't hear her Joy,
for your Passion cries,
your DreamFull eyes;
whilst ivory angels held you,
silken Silence
encased you


 the scheduled revelers came to call.
a dark, damp, grey procession
wrapped in Sun-blessed circling Moons,
brass bands, drumheads
bare sugared bones
naked Hearts 
on parade

ForEver, I shall love a SunFlower's kiss beyond all others'

You have loved each other always,
Infinite Lifetimes have watched your waltz
Worlds within Worlds have borne witness to your love

Thursday, September 1, 2016

cat-tharsis (diamondesque deity)

I love thee, my dark Prince,
Patriarch of our Feline/Human Family;
Thou art my Light Prince 

diamonesque deity,
hot-starry Eyes;
Emerald-Eyed Fury,
Scans Eternity's Skies-
perched 'pon Her Mountain,
she searches lost loves ...

She surveys our valleys:
Her gaze levels trees
She silently screams:
       Catharsis amidst Her exquisite, Eternal Hell

Thank you for your Beautiful Inspiration

Saturday, August 13, 2016



Why do I close my eyes?
Each Time I try to Sleep, I awake to your eerie whistling scream;
I watch myself wander, steeped in Stars,
to your silver train, shrouded in the whispering fog.
I feel my voice mingle yours in a hide - and - search Game;
From time number one, your Soul knew my name.

Sleep be not mine.
Her tortured Dreams make love to me, sliding aeons 'cross Minds;
I hear my cries, muffled in velveteen Sky tears;
My feet float aboard your silver train, awash in a frozen mist;
I slip into your body; no game - Reality in shift.

originally posted Sunday, April 22, 2012; revised August 2016

© CherylFaith Taylor
seek my SoulPlay -
oh! You found me!

your deep Seer's eyes remind me,
in their shady Blues:
I awoke here, 
you caught me 
in the Window watching,
Don't know how I came here,
to Cloud Mount's steepest turret;
ancient Seers played, lived, wrote here;

                      Artemis, I do not deserve this visit

@sardoinalto ThankYou, Friend

Sunday, July 10, 2016

Destiny's Painters (MoonShine)

Across Time's Oceans, 
since our dance began, 
la Luna brilliante lights thine eyes as well as mine.
           O! that brilliant Moon - Shine.

My love for you orbits with Jupiter's Moons,
with the Rhythm of 
ever  aLive

 our Souls' shared LifeTimes Circle,
as our eyes, our brushes, reach Skyward,
"Hello to Zeus, to Jupiter, 
 to all Time's Newer Giants."

the Older Souls watch with prismatic
 laughing eyes, 
- tears -

a harmony, decidedly unEarthly,
tingles our ears our eyes our fingertips 
Blooms like humid Summer ThunderStorms' testament
Booms echoes upon every Soul
 "Beseech, bewitch those younger Souls to flower."
this Moment inside the cycling waves, 
Your touch Inspires me, empowers me;
o sister brother mine :
We are Destiny's Painters

la Luna brilliante lights thine eyes as well as mine.
           O! that brilliant Moon - Shine.

*Thank you, my dear friend, Ysabel, Muse.
I remember you each time I tune I tune to the Word, "Luna" <3

Friday, May 27, 2016

the apprentice (2012 - 2016. *****Adult Content; be thee warned***** movimiento el 3, 1943/2016, Night's Mares hired to bring ...


awakening ?
stagnant, soured crypt-born breath.
dead dry dull be-drugged lumberous limbs,
unnatural, torpid, slothful misery - mired miasma,
snake onto the doll's blanched legs
sputom covers its arms as they try in vain to rouse her
(she's a doll! are you crazy?!)

Cries are vain.
Your crying is so very vain.
You are so very vain, my dear,
but this so endears me to you, my love -
now stroke me here, my little doll;
stroke me darling; do not cry;
the comedy: her reddened eye,
a missile aimed a bit too high -
Cries are vain;
you feel no pain.
You Feel No Pain.

You Feel No Pain.
Life hangs in dreams of other times - only - 
nevermore, not here, never here again -
Life's far-flung angels, replaced by saccharin beasts;
flesh rolls, turbid torturous bellows
upon the tiny downy pillows,
pins the petite porcelain creature;
murdered heart; stilled sane soul;
(never really stolen Soul)
stained crimson numbing treachery;
a fortnight sleeps the memory
three - decade death, debauchery -
inanimate creations do not sleep;
man-handled forms no substance make;
life, now a thing to look upon
a once-remembered dream, a dawn,
a song, smiles, love; no morbid steeping;
quagmired hopes, desperate screams - 

She lay in drink- drowsed guilty dreams
drink-drowsed dirty dooming dreams.
crush such lecherous vapid demons
stir curdled leche *  in their tea
malignant monsters pound pale porcelain
dead the dolls who blinded be -
“Take them to your quilted halls;
anesthetize their baths, burn all;
confiscate their tight-laced shoes,
their bottled love; their airless thrills;
feed them tiny rainbow poison
rolled in ether, made by boys
who self-flagellate in basement cells
conspiring to demonic calls…”

be above;
be silent behind your huge oak desk,
where dolls lie coiled in deep unrest;
experiment: the Fury pays -
always offer them a space
to speak; pretend to hear their cries;
in history they find a way
to still the pain
to slay the dreams;                                   
call them crazy
steal their lives
frigid smiling doll housewives
sing on the telly
play world games;
some celebrate a different way;
some celebrate in other ways;
(we pay and pay and pay and pay .... 
what are our crimes?
maybe I shall never know
maybe we will never know
and we cannot confess
we can never tell  
you know why 

She lay in drink- drowsed guilty dreams
drink-drowsed dirty dooming dreams. 
Hold the doll down - down!
Irritated dolls have been known to speak – 
         “down! down, she cried! “

Tease her mouth; the willow switch tickles them;

(drowned laughter foams upward above her; she floats away on its current}
("teacher, terrible thing, what happened to the gold girl - do you wonder where she's gone?")
“ look away; look away; you may find this part slightly unpleasant.”
(how do you survive here?)

Early; too early, four in the morning! I should be dreaming; should have had my sweetened tea! (drifts…)
“…you selfish bastard! Help me finish here. Stifle! Here! A rag - stuff the mouth- there - good- good boy- “

Really? really I may go far? (earnest and hopeful) 

* leche : milk, Spanish

fantasies: the Ancient Priory: Dudley, West Midlands, England

musings: the Ancient Priory: Dudley, West Midlands, England

( always: Be prepared to capture huge round reverberating HeartVibes...)

reedy-piped Music swirls, swells, 

Hills bounce, roll, tussle, shoot emerald echoes over ancient arbors;
once shreds, alabaster ebony birds re-animate,
float down to repose
delicately chiseled stone deities
(hear their Music?)

Divine this Circle:
jeweled nocturnal Mountain Sky,
orange Lights spray tangerine mists;
melt apricots, peaches,
 tangy Southern mangoes;
honeyed nectar Songs, unabashed,
Her enchanted Seas' secrets caress us in whispers ....
 oooh.... these Clouds' tender touches:
(where? oh when? have we moved to now?)

Her drowsy painted tapestries,
dusk's wild horizons, brush-woven bounty
hidden maidens' apparitions
beneath roseate garden canopies
tucked inside Night's turban - 
Once here strode monks, dreaming of lilacs glow', alight upon feather pillows:

(the sweet ones' Gifts, to make you live;
the sweet ones Gift,  to make you  live.)

Here strode monks; 
see their outlines midst Her shadows
Over here inside her valleys
their long be-robed legs stretched to wake upon the Evening Air
drifting in the cool damp grass
beyond the priory, to the cloistered orphaned dove-calls,

O, ye distant cluttered Souls,
where have you gone? 
oh! I see you two
I embraced Round Faeries' venerable dust 
"You float in a new Heaven;
 hear friendship's sweetest whispers?
each Moment,
 widen your eyes.
a little bit more
be not afraid

***Poems in Garlands***
 for my TruestAngel, my SoulMate, my sweet LK, Robin:
 see the grounds where we were wed?

© CherylFaith Taylor 2013 - May 2016

Tuesday, April 26, 2016

arts mélangés: swan

my fevered Soul, disguised:
a royal swan -

deep dream - seas sweep 
consciousness' rounds -

hot prisms light my lover's ardent eyes

 arts mélangés for @bluesonicboy.
Merci à tous.

@garyscottartist @ENBallet 
@photos_byASH (photo credit given to thee; please say if not ok)

Tuesday, April 12, 2016

for Iman and David (and for your beautiful mom, Maryan Baadi)


For you, Iman, with Love and Respect
Sea- blessed moistened Souls of our beloveds soar to grandeur; 
their deep repose lives in our hope; 
their Voices, soft, caress our Hearts;
the whispering Winds foretell our shared Lives

Saturday, April 2, 2016


piano sits silent; gathers dust
the cats leave tracks toward heavens they have lived
My eyes rest on reflections: Daddy's face
Please play a new writ Melody for me.

Sunday, March 27, 2016


"Oldest footage of New York City ever" *
Your genes course thru me, my dear Neen;
              I yearn for half-remembered Lives      
at bitter Winds, we laugh,
for so Lives live.

my corset binds
my ribs to stand
for aeons, straight;
a stalwart race -
We live for Ever.
Birth's desperate cries 
billow wide these
murals' doors to ancient,
painted Souls
You gave them eyes

I yearn to be inside their worlds 
again  ?

your Gifted eyes
paint Time's old grief;
I face me; speak your murals' walls
which billow as
my bonnet falls through centuries,
caught by a man who has yet to be born

© CherylFaith Taylor, 2016

please check out a few of 
my favourite Artists' of varied media, 
their links beneath:

 Inspired by my SoulMate, Robin Taylor, always, for every Ever

please Click above- AMAZING PHOTOS
 and yes, for thee, Master Hawk Alfredson, Painter Immortal; 
  thou Art an ArtForm extraordinaire 

 You give them eyes, these voices who speak to my Soul 

for Sir Arthur Phillips, Word-Magician, Bard-o'Brooklyn,
 for your kindness and for your Freeing Words


Touched by your sacred Breath, your constant Inspiration, my Neen,
perhaps from a parallel place,
but always, you are with me, and I am little again ....
I love you
ThankYou for The Purple ..

.. Your parents risked their Live s to bring you here,
so you'd be born with greater opportunities.
I imagine, by 1912, Life looked slightly more advanced
than it does in this little Film below;

I know I knew you then, but I cannot explain *how*
If you'd stayed a bit longer,
I know you'd have posted a website and so much more.
Even after your stroke, at age ninety-seven,
you knew politics, Spanish, so much more...

link below tells lightly more info about a True Great Lady,
but falls short of telling how truly amazing she was.

(then please return to see the video at bottom)
 I love you, my Nina. Until we meet again...
"Oldest footage of New York City ever"
* Click to see Film from another LifeTime, 
 perhaps thine....  maybe mine

 © CherylFaith Taylor, 2016

Wednesday, February 24, 2016

amdst this frigid frozen mist, I glimpse thy form; I fear thee not;
into thine arms, my Soul afloat;
his glist'ning bell-shower: Living, you

© 2016 CherylFaithTaylor

Tuesday, February 23, 2016

excerpts from a Play-In-Progress: Nietzsche's Sister (Title, "Nietsche's Sister," ThankYou to Robin Taylor

What Universe was it where we met before, my friend?  <3 Peace.
the Night ablaze,
Words scrambled everywhere..)
the Mermaid swooshed her tail,
 rolled prismatic paint stars o'er your Dreams;
savory unguent buries your body,
in sweetsour slicks; 
Deep Seas' Silence screams

 feet-nibble, Mind-wiggle;
farewell to mourning 
old passions
all passions disappear down here
in your world's deepest corners,
your thoughts' murky waters,
stop that giggling!
hey, you, over in the corner (in a stage-whisper)
 no giggling!

on goes his chainmail
to battle


will these boys never learn?
boys never learn

excerpt from:

Flash! (to another Starry NightScape)
 my beloved babies !!!

a torturous sleep facsimile
finally overtakes us;
(Aahh...Who needs her anyway?)

offstage reply: "She writes your memories !"

we lie lengthwise upon an undulating cloud,
 til, of a sudden,
I see you go

up up up I see you float
rose petals drift down (nearby cloud mounts' gifts?)
they tickle me, somewhere,
I can't say in which universe

In Flight
Always In Flight
he mounts you in the coiled temple
BookSnake's diamond tales look on;
 wise women hid here when your home went kindling,

the Night ablaze,
Words scrambled everywhere,
scurried for cover
silently hid their nakedness within bound bodies,
Words jumped, shot,
  over and under,
Words burrowed their bodies deep 'neath foreigner's ancient forests;
Words flew to allied cover,
begged for free asylum -
all those alphabets, letters in minions,
scrawled ancient Words
sneered at another Era's Internet slanguage,
then .... buuuumph!
they embraced in mid-Air

cold Space.

Never had they Dreamed such a humiliating scene
"Bound for doom!No, no!" cried Nietsche,
"We'll be free! Follow me!" yelled Franz.
Sappho smiled sadly; she freefell,
worshipping the Night,
knowing more than I will ever know about anything,
 This Fire
read your name through centuries of dust,
through Time's collected codes, rusty coils,
Her concentrated chaos-
the Storm blew torrents of Words back to us while
we waited for them to arrest us,
awaiting the pain, the torment,
of being brought back to a silent earth

© CherylFaithTaylor

I notice you disappear as my slippery tail closes around your throat... ....