A LITTLE LATE.....;

Hey Friends

Merry Xmas to all of you..hope your day was Blessed and rich with the love of family and friends. May the New Year bring you peace and fulfillment.

Cher

UNTITLED

Knotted thoughts

Tangled,

Struggling for release.

Rising, falling like thermals

Air pushing battling bingo balls

Who will win?

Thoughts unsnarled,

Writhing, rushing, raging to the rim,

To the brink of the frontal lobe.

Pick a number from the globe.

Lucky seven!

That’s mine you calling.

Finally,

Now it’s me that’s balling.

Wake up, wake up!

Dreams dim as dusk dawns

Go wash the crud from your eyes!

Thoughts to action

Now fully unraveled

Awakened

Realized

THE PINK SLIP- VIDEO

Hi Guys

For your enjoyment.......comments, like,hate, love...just let me know

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ADNuErXiujY

Click on the link and there we are

Special Shout Out....

Hey guys

This is a special Bajan shout out to my readers in Malaysia, Brazil, Russia, India, Korea.....Wha Goin On Peeps......

Drop me a msg sometime....it's really cool that you are reading my stuff...will keep posting but I have been pretty busy these past few weeks....but hey...its DECEMBER 1ST.....Yes Yes...it starts....lol...our most favorite time of the year.....


Talk Soon and Deck the Halls....

Blessings

Cher

Link to other Blog

Hi Guys

For those of you who wish to catch up on some of my older poetry and thoughts...here is the link to my other blog

http://cherbeautyglam.blogspot.com/

Hope to hear from you here as well.

Cher

RESPECT is earned...

Dear Parents

This is an open letter to you. Today I am particularly frustrated with a situation that has been ongoing and has come to the first stage of what I am sure is going to be an ending that will be very bitter in the mouths of many.

Why do you insist on the double standard? Your children learn from you, from your actions  and from your lives. You are the example. 

Children have an instinctive love and obligation for and to their parents. But as they grow and become more aware all the veils are lifted and your true self is revealed. 

‎#parents need to #respect their children especially when they are grown men and women.

Respect is earned.        It is not a parental right!!

I may not be the 'perfect'  parent but I have always given my children space to grow...they will make their mistakes, I will  make mine....but I can never blame THEM for the choices I have made.....how do we expect them to respect others and the world around them if we do not teach them the process.....forgive my ranting but I am frustrated with some members of the OLDER 

generation....whose membership I think should be revoked forthwith!

Children, you cannot cure others of their blind ignorance. You can only keep the light burning inside of you to guide them when they decide to open their eyes.

Annoyed Mother

Looking on from the outside

Making Contact With You

My Dearest Friends

I just want to take this opportunity to express my thanks to those of you who take the time to read my blog. Over the past few months I have had readers from as close as Dominica to as far away as Brazil and Russia.

I would like to do something a bit different in that I would like you to contact me and tell me what you really think of my postings here.  I know some of you prefer not to post publicly so I am attaching my email address

cher.insight@gmail.com   I really hope to hear from you soon and I promise to answer every email.

Take care

And

Blessings

Cher

REDEMPTION

She sat on splintered board

anxiously waiting to hear

God‘s soothing words 

to relieve her dispair.

For far too long

she has suffered the pain,

her family's indignation

their cruelty and shame.

It needed to end

something had to give 

her life must be mended

she needed to live.

"Oh God, please help me!"

her lips muttered prayers

"I am feeling so empty,

so scattered and frayed.

I left You too long

I blasphemed and I cursed.

I hated,  beriled you

now for what it is worth,

I have come seeking forgiveness

a lost lonely child 

a sheep in the wilderness

no direction, no guile"

Her tears started spilling

over ruby red rims 

Her throat was just tightening

as she heard the first hymn.

"There is a green hill far away.."

she remembered the tune 

she gathered composure

and started to croon. 

She stood fast in the pew 

Holding tight to the seats

Still trying to focus

and respond to the beats

The congregation sang

their voices soared high

"... He died to save us all.."

so who could deny.

The lights from the alcove

Twinkled bright in the night

fragrant smelling evergreen

a most beautiful sight 

 pine trees standing tall

with tinsel and angels,

the gold leaves enthralled

"Oh come all ye faithful..."

Another year will end soon

And a new one will start

This time will be different

With renewed strength of heart

It has taken too long 

To admit to her wrongs

now standing before Him

and singing His songs

"You are my Holy Father

And I am your child

I was made in your image

This I am told

So nothing's impossible

With You in my soul" 

She left the pew then

With peace in her heart

To greet the cool morning

His veil lifting the dark 

The Xmas service ended

Will the cycle repeat?

The uncontrollable lusts,

the episodes, the cheats 

She is temporarily troubled

Disoriented, unsure.

Smiling timidly now

she exits the door 

for she knows that her Father

Will always be there

To give her the strength

To face the New year

Here's wishing you.....

a wonderful weekend......

Blessings to all of you.....

Cher

My Contact Info

Hey Guys

If you wish to contact me here is the new email address....  cher.insight@gmail.com

Hope to hear from you and would welcome your thoughts on my pieces.

Regards

Cher

PINK SLIP (SHORT FORM) - More to come

His words echoed in her mind. His chosen sequence signaled the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. If given the opportunity to adjust her life’s diary, she probably would not change very much, if anything at all, despite there being times when the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel definitely seemed like the oncoming train.

The dynamic between men and women will probably never be understood in its fullest, well to her at least.

This and other probing thoughts played with her mind often, especially when she had those fleeting moments of “my time” and she tried as best she could to pull from deep within the strength and calm that her count-on-one-hand female friends insisted were key to her being a successful woman, mother and wife.

The choices she made in her life were her responsibility to bear and hers alone. She knew this.

Choices, many times these came pre-packaged and tagged with a price she thought was too high to pay, but she knew only too well that when the reaper (gray bastard) was ready for his reward, there was little that she could fight against.

To this quiet unassuming woman, the institution of marriage remained one of the oldest establishments of which, from as a long as she could recall, she wished to be a member.  Hilda had been conditioned and preened, from a very young age, to be fully focused on the requirements for entry and as a proper young lady was expected to be versed on the language, the etiquette, the service (in some instances servitude), the song, the dance and the play (both fore and aft).

Her adolescent life was performed not unlike acts in a pantomime, scene after scene: comedy, tragedy, and parody. The directors may have changed, the screenplay edited but the concreted epitaph remained: My hope, my dream, “I promise to love and care for you, ‘til death us do part.”

The climax of her screenplay was when that wiggly little bundle of joy was presented to her by the trusted family doctor. Tears and sobs choking and preventing her from making the ‘thank you’ speech, but was gallantly delivered by her knight in shining amour who stood to her right, protecting her, loving her, showing her to the world; anxiously waiting to whisk her and their angelic wad into the newly leased car for the anticipated journey to the nest.

Was this only a dream? Or could this dream become a reality? She prayed on this every night. She was told by her pastor, that one should never ask for oneself. She should seek to allay the world’s suffering by pleading intervention on other people’s behalf.  But who was doing it for her? Who held her in their nightly prayers?

She was certain that no one did and so she decided to brave the inevitable hell fire and brimstone and make just that one request. “Father, please bring him to me. I need to be happy.”

Her wish was granted, or so she thought. The early years were grand. She was happy, they were happy. Dreams became reality, or at least for a time. But then, it went horribly wrong.

The excuses, the tales, the cover ups were numerous but she had been taught, that as a woman and more importantly a wife, it was critical to continue on the path that had been designed for her. Such a pity that little girls and boys do not attend the same school of doctrine. Even if they did they were obviously taught a different syllabus by different teachers using different texts and no one had seen fit to add “Preserving and Nurturing Relationships” to the required reading list.  Such a pity!

So, having now forcibly been thrown back to earth, no Asgard and no Valhalla in sight, reality hit hard. She was faced with unprecedented challenges, financial difficulties and spousal delusional episodes. Family, in-laws and friends attempted to mitigate in their self-perceived gracious manner and succeeded in making matters one hundred times worse.

Despite the turmoil, the female cranial cavity considered nothing to be wrong. She, with an unbelievable appetite for punishment, went about the tasks of the day, and night, with relentless aptitude, tireless resolve and unquestionable fortitude.

So when the sun rose, as usual, for the umpteenth day in her cycle of matrimonial bliss, steering her weary form to the kitchen to whip up the usual breakfast, get the kids out the door, to school and to work, prepare lunches and await the usual goodbye hugs and kisses, she was presented with “The Pink Slip”. 

“I have not been happy for the past twelve years” her partner of a lifetime announced.

A relationship that spanned almost three decades, three children and one house (thankfully no dog or cat, just fish) was now destroyed.

Hilda again tried to focus on the person standing in front of her.

She gazed at him, eyes searching for clarity. Her every sense heightened, struggling with the stimuli they were receiving. Synapses firing wildly in her brain, she was breathing hard now, her heart pounding in her ears, her adrenalin coursing.

 “Come on, you can’t be serious” she finally was able to verbalize. “What have I done wrong?” she whimpered.

Her throat tightened as if she had mistakenly eaten shellfish. Her body went rigid, hot then cold, then hot again. Who was this man standing in front of her? This was not the same sensitive guy she couldn’t wait to see or hear so many years ago, and still does. What did she do wrong? Can she fix it? But as these questions pinged her mind like an impatient contact on the blackberry network, she was unable to answer them with the speed and lucidity that would satisfy.

He continued. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

“Do what?” she beseeched.

The alcove to the kitchen started to sway and swirl, as if being viewed from under a turbulent stream. She tried to regain her composure, but to no avail.

“Why don’t we have sex as often as we used to?”

Oh Father Jesus!

Up to this point in the notification process, she was listening through a veil of shallow tears.

Miraculously, the veil lifted just when his last questioning accusation was pelted with a force that a fast bowler with exceptionally long arms and a wicked stride would envy.

“Is there something wrong with you? Were you sexually abused as a child?”

The yorker struck and Hilda heard nothing more, saw nothing more. She had collapsed on the freshly cleaned kitchen floor.

Hilda had no idea how long she laid there. The floral smell of Disiclin assailed her nostrils. She raised her upper body, steadying herself on trembling arms. Crouched on all fours she reached for the edge of the sink ledge and pulled herself up.

She must have been down only for a short time, or maybe that was just a wicked prank her brain was playing on her. She looked through the kitchen window out to the driveway. The car was still there.  Maybe there was still hope, maybe.

With a demonic reverberation the front door slammed.

He left her then, overnight bag in tow, out the door, into the car and, she was sure, into the other door of the other residence.

What was she to do now? House, mortgage, children and mammoth debt, something had to give.

The average person would sympathize with her, empathize even but good will across an expansive energy field does little for the person on the verge of collapse and despair.

What would she do now? What could she do? Logical thinker as she was, she embarked on self-analysis. She decided to start with his-self.

The header on the pink slip was clear:   I have not been happy for the past twelve years.

She however was convinced that the footer should have read “I have not been happy with myself for the past twelve years”. If her hypothesis was correct she then had only one course of action: stop, re-group, re-flect and re-cover. It was pointless moving forward with his baggage. Instinctively she knew that what she was hearing was not what was being said. The trick was to get pass the white noise and tune in to the true signal. The static confused her. She automatically defaulted into a self-blaming mode. 

It had to be her fault. She must have done something wrong. What was it, oh God, could she fix it?  

She stared out the kitchen window, and the beginning of a plan crystallized in her violated mind’s space. 

Step 1: Call in sick.

Step 2: Boil water……..

My Thought for Today.....

" Cherish the whispers of life" - Cher

THE GOOD NEWS...CONTINUES

Hey friends,

Blessings to all of you....Well the Gala was brilliant on the Sunday Nov 6 and my performance of an excerpt from PINK SLIP was well received.

Just as I was going on stage I heard the announcement that I had also won the Incentive Award for MOST PROMISING PROSE ENTRY for the competition this year...Wahooooo!!!!

So, for those of you who are still not too sure...yes I am a WRITER.....dammit  :))

You will notice I have removed both my short stories from this blog..primarily because they are to be printed soon and PINK SLIP is being worked into a novel....

I will probably give you a taste of the work as I move through...

So thanks again to you for keeping up with me...

And you can now also follow me on TWITTER..yup I finally joined   cherinsight@twitter.com


Talk soon

Cher

GOOD NEWS!!!!!!

Well my friends, you have probably wondered where I have been...but suffice to say a bit busy and when I did have some time fine tuning my craft.

It has paid off.....I am very pleased to share with you that I have been awarded two Silver Medals for my Adult Prose (short stories) at our National Independence Festival of Creative Arts (NIFCA), the Literary Competition.

The two  stories are  PINK SLIP and INTERVENTION.

I shall be reading an excerpt of PINK at the Literary Gala,  Frank Collymore Hall on Sunday November 6th at 6pm.

As you can imagine, I am so hyped... I can barely control myself.....

Hope to see you guys there...

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Hi Friends

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Offline for awhile

Hello friends

Just a quick check in with you... I have been offline for a while as it has been really hectic over the past three weeks and I deeply apologize to you for not putting out any new pieces...It is not writer's block,.,,jus life blocks sometimes....

Anyway..to satisfy those of you who visit me here every day...please enjoy my other blog...it is the poetry I wrote the first three months of my journey... I certainly hope you enjoy it

http://www.cherbeautyglam.blogspot.com/

Blessings
Cher

WHAT IF...

sleep
awake
sleep
awaken
birds
rain
noises
traffic
neighbours
we have
awaken
simple acts
unrelenting
routines
taken
for granted
what if
you knew
what if
you count
how many
times
left
the cycle
repeats
what if
you knew
what would
you do
then
value
every second
every moment
every breath
what if
you do
what if
you knew
maybe
you
should
sleep
awaken
breathe
what if
you could

CRY FOR LOVE

I wrote this for a dear friend who has been hurting as a result of his loved ones' abject insensitivity to his needs....my fellow sentient...the healing starts now

....................................................

I call

for your love

in need

indeed

your attention I crave

connection

erase

the errors of time

this world I entered

innocent

childlike

void of hate

unsophisticated

naïve

searching for guidance

mama’s love

papa’s stare

steer me away

to hurt

who

wish to hurt

me

malignant affectations

tumorous attentions

mirrored reflections

of you

starved of warmth

family fare

nourished with cold

to be quenched

by young ones clinging

bonding

spinning tops

boats, planes

laughter plays games

temporarily wanes

emptiness

disdain

passion

for thirst

remains

HE IS HERE!!!!

ELI ABIOMI ROACHFORD-PRIDDEE

My grandson has arrived.  He is adorable.....weighing in at 8lbs, born September 13, 2011....

I have not seen him as yet, but I am in love with him already....

Precious you are my sweet

You bring light and happiness to the world

May you walk with grace and purpose

May you be a strong man

Strong in heart, body and soul

Your Nana will love you forever....

My Return

Dearest Friends:

I have been quite busy and have not posted in a while.  I was preparing my poetry pieces for our National Independence Festival of Creative Arts (NIFCA) and that was an intensive process.

I have just finished my prose pieces that I wished to enter and I will share them with you here.  

They are two short stories so you will need to sit back and enjoy the ride.

I really, really wish you can comment on them. If you choose to do this privately, please send me an email cherbeautyglam@gmail.com

I look forward to hearing you.

Blessings

Cher

If I should wake before I die I will tell you how much I love you before the sun sets on one more day.

ETERNAL STRUGGLE

light polishes darkness

maleficent souls defy

the virgin conceives

BLACK - OUT

black

blackness

heavy

oppressive

hitting

nails in coffin

brain matter exploding

colours weighing

mass building

to black


black

face front

wiggle fingers

can’t see

no movement

stealth is king

blackness reigns

pours complete

drowns  the sodden effigy

scarecrow begs for mercy

black


pinpoints

patterns of black-ness

mixed

with grey

with white

light

pierces

searches

burns irises

heats surfaces

blackness runs

like inks spilt

on a table tilt

borders to be crossed

depression to be lost

in the blinding fight

the calming might

of white light

sight

RED PALETTE

Seeing bright red,

Searing pain in my head

Splintered veil of agony

Crimson, magenta, burgundy

Kaleidoscopic, intense

Red brightness incensed

Unbearable heat to the core

I cannot endure

No relief is in sight

Please, turn off the light

Too blinding the pain

With its need to sustain

This awful   migraine.

MISSION...Statement of My Pen

Continued success requires a paradigm shift

Be unafraid to go deep within 

Bring to the surface all that lies beneath 

Thoughts will not be censored

Refined yes, but not censored

Life experiences will be held in high esteem 

Failures will be viewed as lessons

Move the reader and impassion the listener

Imagery, emotion, will be captured, nourished 

Revealing literary commentary to be revered 

and shared by all.