Arteries... (excerpts)

Parte I :  Views from my bedroom window,
                 Agua Miel (HoneyWater)

Four hundred eighteen fluid Lives

Surge unseen through your Living Stream;

Thrice-gleaned photos, my tossing Dreams,

You glow volcanic strength in Nights,
 silence sirens,  fear-hewn screams

(all I have to do to see you is peer out my window; 

I wish those dogs would leave you in peace)

 jeweled spray, Quash heat's stormed torments' rise;

shoot Life to surface; I realize

your every diamond droplet, guided by Good,

injects Lives, raises alien- coated angels in Blaze...

Who gifted you your kind-Hearted potency,
your unceasing bravery,
your expertise to drown our searing pain?

 You bundle children in smokey quilted air,

cleanse parents' tears,
  you exalted River...

I peer through my bedroom window,

ask your crimson metal sentinel Home a question,

flash his potent flowing honey my largest smile.


~~~~~~

parte IV:  TearDrop

I kiss your teardrops,
taste Earth & Heaven's Salt & Rain...
My finger loves the skin around your eyes' soft contours;
your sweet baby breath soothes my tormented Heart
even in your tiniest TearDrop lives a sacred sentient Life

{Please lose your fright at the sound-barrier-breaking-alarm;

a  Fire Brigade arrived when you were Born & lost consciousness}

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Eighteen Billion *Jewels*

     by "Sky" I metaphorically mean "all around you".

I'll probably change the name of the Project;, as I love ~long vowel sounds. 

Short letters, like the "e" in "Gems," grate at me. 

They are Musically different to my general style.

     Every Friend who visits here, please know:
I know you each from different Times & Places; I've a unique feeling of "Friend" for each of you. 

This virtual page (I mean our new Facebook Page) is a shameless self-promo, :)
for a publication of my material;

 I was coerced into participation there!

      Whether my baby (the "Collected Works" (*a nod to my Mentor*)

sells 1 copy, 0 copies, or...dare I say...~more~...please know you are a part!

     I desire to help people in my Writing...I always pray to do so...

Simply, Thank You. You are many special People...Look around at who has gathered here... 

Peace & Smiles! CherylFaith

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   Many HeartThanks

Peace & Smiles,

CherylFaith

Waiting for Microwave Popcorn

Streets charged with Wild Rain run awry

Amongst ice cream slicky, diabold Dreams;

Children scream in hollows;

Gigantic Creature cameras preview Avenues;

Streets flash frenzy-full faces, 
race with sheets of sleek Wild Rain

Screens illuminate a huge Steel Body

Show tiny people's Joy,

Glow accidental Beings' Love;

Metal Monsters' razored teeth clamp

Down...

Beneath Stars whose Lives weave yours
 and monsters' footprints into faery dreams;

Under doe-large, terrified stellar eyes,
down below the Core,

the seering, seething, slithering, dancing heart,
becalms the Storm;

Wild Rain caresses

but 


Wild Rain flies and rivulets

crazy morphing concentric spirals;

Wild Rain smacks your naked face with
 frigid, foreign, frozen Island Wind;

Wild Rain caresses your heavy limbs, your swollen Heart;
Wild Rain ushers you Home.

( draft II )

Who Rains

This Day...the Mothering Sky weeps cathartic tears;
Who Rains here, 
soaking tiny droplet sugar Hearts,

melting molecules into Earth,
molding

tiny candy Hearts

like Valentines

I didn't get...

ToDay, I do, but fear to blink,

lest my mouth forgets to open

for your Fountain's bounteous Jewels

 

 

I didn't "get" this Song when I was tiny; now I do, & can't stop weeping...

"If I could save Time in a bottle, the first thing that I'd like to do 

Is to save every Day til Eternity passes away, just to spend them with you..."

  "Time in a Bottle"
by Jim Croce, another Artist whose soaring Soul flew...so young he seemed, to us...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QBWDHyAct4w ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

Amy WineHouse

Another bright Old Soul survives a Moment; she Flies;

once more, a stunning Star cries out;

leaves feathers, flowers, felinesque-d eyes;

Your tempestuous gentleness,

so sad, your desperate cries;

Your wavering flame sought breath in mists

In Tune with elder goddesses

My Soul sighs & weeps...

I wish I had ~really known who you were, this Time around...
© CherylFaith Taylor 2011

 

© Robin Taylor 2011 

the princess of Long Island

( excerpt from the series, "Bungalow Diaries" )

Her pretty elvin head
Sweet little deaf ears -
but for the thunder one hears
when diamond boulders play "mad escape!"
down hungry, greedy, dreadful, demonic drains

~~~~~~~~



You flail your arms
All they see: a tiny thing
A curiosity, "a pity..."
"Poor sweet little angel..."
Pretty blind eyes, has she; (excepting largesse);
Impossible they would really see you:
King!
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sweet baby Genius,
(You said I shouldn't tell them)
Sweet baby Genius,
your laps cross lakes far too frightening
for eensy bitsy princesses
to ever even enter.
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Your steady aureolic Globes, wise Eyes, cherubic shining Smiles;
Your silent soft audacious eyes show smile-sprayed Sky, horizons climbed...


You flash past vapid princesses in eggshell blue bikini tops;
They poke each other, side to side, while sun cells claim their shallow eyes;
You dive - whoosh!- "Creep!" their screams decry,
"You stupid boy, my hair, my eyes!"


Your hands squeeze Lightening...


Movie rolls; we see them writhing side by side
We hear them crying, leaving here,
You kiss them, brush mottled doll-hair              
You soothe their fear, you angel King
You smooth their journey, bid them, "Bye!"


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You hold more courage, more Self, more Heart
than those hollow cloned dolls on Ikea's trendy shelf near their beachfront bedrooms...
You know ...You comprehend, have come to ease their playtime wars


Your flailing arms glow in Dark and your hands hold Lightening
Bolts, brightening vacuums -
Your Mind, aeons wiser,
beyond books the Princess ever studied at Yale;
Your Heart, roomy, to calm trembling dolls' delicate new-manicured hands
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Maybe one of these Days,
in Time's wise teasey Momentary spark


the Princess of Long Island
will grow up and up.....


and her Soul, her Soul, too...
may glow half as Bright as yours...
Maybe one Day...


© CherylFaith Taylor

Hope's Daddy

She teases, giggles! "Race ya' home! You *know* I'll be there first!"

Bicycle wheel collides with Rock! Hope tumbles; she shrieks!

Oblivious, my tinny yellow Toodle-loop radio reposes on Earthen bed,
flung in pieces to Ground:
 Top Ten pop tunes silenced
Silence...

(But didn't I hear...?)

Freddie serenades two girls,

 "Beelzebub"   

climbs, climax! crescendoes! - 

oblivious to our pre-pubescent Theatre...

New Silence
til piercing shrill shriek screams!


Hope, brave agonized 12-yr-old,

broken bones cushioned by forest floor's embrace;

Burnt sienna waves a'tangle on Earthen pillows,

Evergreens; March's tentative Sun...

1975...

Sky, whispering, still holding Snow...

Hope, my friend, you broke your collarbone...

but...Your Dad will die in a freak accident, two years on; 

we had no revelation then...

Mr. Ski-Bum drove hastily Home to Brooklyn, 
Dreaming of the White White...

our beLoved Catskill Mts...
"Seven Days on, til I fly those slopes once more..."
Dreaming...

We  didn't know; nobody Saw:
the same Circle held a more deeply sinister view:

Another Brooklyn weekender 
tied trailer to 70's boat of an auto,

huge gas-guzzler holds exotic Nascar-worthy ride 

upon a flimsy homemade wooden bed,

amateurishly tied...
Instrument of your Daddy's death, my beLoved Hope...

displayed prominently in Time's Circle...but...

How on Earth could we see the Circle, then,
 ?

We didn't know...

Your fractured collarbone Pain felt like ether,  
against your Heart's sear-ed ache when your Dad departed...
Daddy...Hope's Daddy...

I knew not how to help...

Our Friendship stole hiatus, as we rode our separate Journeys;

Where are you now, angel?

I'm so sorry, Hopey!..

Sorry for your pain, my girl...

Do you recall...your bone-crunch into Forest's loving furrow 

sent me peddling, speeding home;
  12-yr-old limbs pumping Time's barriers,
( you said, "like orange juice bolts to a hangover,")

I raced Time for Home:
"Ambulance, please!!!"

Years before cell phones...

or  911...

I blamed myself...why?

I do not remember "why"