| About Angel, who I'm hoping will one day want to be in my life again |
| About Angel, who I'm hoping will one day want to be in my life again |


Cerridwen"So how did the rest of that story go?"Cerridwen
"Which one?"
"About Cerridwen."
"It's Cerr-ID-wen. Cerr, like, caring for the pigs here. Id, like Freud's postulated source of primal human drives. And wen, like, when's dinner."
"Meaning, crooked white one? Or blessed crafty one? Blessed poet? Bent crone?"
"Something like that. Well, Cerridwen and her husband had twins - a boy and a girl ..."
"I thought it was two boys?"
"Nah, it was a girl, Creidwy, and a boy, Afagdu, who was ..."
"Are you sure it wasn't two boys? Afagdu and Morfran?"
"


A Touch of HoneyMorning light in the kitchen: golden hair, Bright smile, "Good morning, sleepy head! I hope you don't mind, I had some of your bread" Drinking coffee over my angel books, like we've been married for years. Warming inside, I nudge the honey pot, it wants to stay with me. I let your voice wash over me like sunlight as I reboil the kettle, Tasting your words, and the slight "thrrp" as I pry my fingers from the handle. My steaming cup adheres to the table as I sit inhaling your eyes. "Your house has a soft energy to it. Like a lot of love has been shared here." Yes. Soft, and slightly sticky, I thinA Touch of Honey


ChangelingExcuse me, miss, but have you seen my little girl? She looks a lot like you, but without the sullen curl To your lip, or the tightly bound look upon your face, That gazes at the world, and me, with such aloof distaste. From birth she was impatient to see all of life unfurled, She'd sit up in her chest pouch and gaze wide-eyed at the world. As soon as she could walk unaided, off ahead she'd run, And not let daddy catch up till her ramblings were done, Or dawdle far behind, amazed at every blade of grass. Could you help me find her, miss, if it's not too much to ask? Your self-made coaChangeling


pokershe stands as the waterpoker
laps slowly at her feet, staring out to where the blue grows darker and then lighter and lighter and becomes air as light as air. the sand is hard beneath her toes, but it moves when she does. she stands still as the water hits her softly, touching her legs cold but unnoticed strong, but not that strong. she stares straight ahead waiting. feeling her hair blow behind her in the wind,
dancing around her ears and away from her neck like the sail of her ship as she stands


Rage of AngelsShe asked if I was an angel.Rage of Angels
I gazed down into those Beautiful eyes and with A stopping of breath Assured her I was.
As I held her there, I folded invisible wings Around her to hold her, Keep her safe
Caressed those tiny Fingers that had Worn my life around them, Built the gardens that kept me content...
"Are you my angel?" She asked again with a smile. I prayed to all that was holy Again, I agreed.
Her eyes closed. Her beauty broke me all over again. And with the last sweet breath on my cheek, &


To-To-To-
You weren’t meant to be seduced by computer screens and televisions,
four walls and fluorescent lights. You weren’t meant to be swept into reality - you weren’t made of metal. You weren’t meant to be pious and you weren’t meant for reason
(yet you fell to every one of them).
Once you were a creature so wild you convinced even yourself you were born from the earth and trees. Once you were a scraped-knees child and a child of mama sun crawling through thorns and thickets chasing snakes. Once you buried nuts to help the trees grow, and spoke to the leaves as if you knew them. Once. &n


A Modern FaerytaleA Modern FaerytaleA Modern Faerytale
Loose-jointed fingers braced the cigarette against her lips as she inhaled, and smoke curled a lazy smile through her hair. She came here every Monday night, sat in the same stool, took the same poison – four fingers, on ice, the colour of dirty sunshine.
All night she would sit there, drinking and sucking on a chain of cigarettes through lips tinged yellow with the burn of nicotine, staring down the squat neck of her glass from 5o’clock to closing time, 10 hours straight. She’d get up only to answer nature’s call – although I was never sure how natural it was to use your bladder like a lung, filli
for you, my love

She Laughs RainbowsShe told me of her high school art nerd days, With paint spattering her hair and her clothes, Like Scarlatti's kitten, bright-eyed she plays, Leaving a bright rainbow trail as she goes.She Laughs Rainbows
She's not much for jewels, she just owns one ring, Sapphire - she liked the sparkle in its depths. She finds earth's beauty in each little thing, And worships its gods with light, laughing steps.
I picture her in that snowbound country, Spreadeagled as if in some pagan prayer, She silhouettes an angel in the snow, then she Shakes thousands of tiny stars from her hair.
by ~temporary-peace
by *messa
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08 FEB 2005
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