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Brian Taylor is a Poet and Philosopher who lives in Cornwall, England and the Far East.
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Author Archives: The Poet's apprentice
MID-SEPTEMBER SUN
Dry and ripening: sea flat and shining like burning glass. Gulls floating like ducks on a giant’s pond. Small Coppers, Blues and Hairstreaks playing like blown leaves in parched grass. Victoria plums, blackberries. This is the turning of the year … Continue reading
Posted in Blondin
Tagged blackberries, butterflies, cosmic seeds, ducks, dust, fear, here, plums, September, traveller
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WISDOM OF SOLOMON
Those who sow the wind reap the whirlwind. The politicians, seeing nothing better to do, sow the wind. Encourage the people to be dissatisfied (so that they can promise to satisfy them). Encourage the people to envy the rich; (promise … Continue reading
Posted in Gnomonic Verses
Tagged anger, dissatisfaction, envy, free sex changes, justice, people, politicians, rich, Solomon, wisdom
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MIDSUMMER DREAM
I dreamed of Paradise Garden; sunlight sliding down from an infinite sky through cedar trees to emerald lawns; oriental poppies six feet high, Indian butterflies gliding by through multilayered shades of blue. Olympian Apollo’s statue holds a fountain in his … Continue reading
Posted in Bamboo Leaves
Tagged Apollo, butterflies, eagles, emerald, free, midsummer, mirror, Paradise Garden, silver sands, solitude, song birds
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HEDGEROW FLOWERS
The more I label the less I am able to see. The more I see the less I am able to label. (Poem from GNOMONIC VERSES)
MAGDALEN
In the Fellows’ Gardens, past the Deer Park, a willow twists and stretches out of a brown pool like a giant Naga trailing garlands of green lace. Along the avenues of Addison’s Walk, among birch and beech, chestnuts stretch out … Continue reading
Posted in Oxford Blues
Tagged Academics, beech, bicycles, birch, chestnuts, Deer Park, living, Michaelmas, Odysseus, Oxford, Painted Lady, River of Pain
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ASTRAL TRAVEL
You can’t go through the ceiling? You are holding onto the settee. You can’t go through the Eye of the Needle? You are a fully loaded camel. You come to a fork in the road and cannot decide whether to … Continue reading
Posted in Gnomonic Verses
Tagged Astral travel, decisions, egomaniac, Eye of the Needle, fork in the road, individual, shy, whole
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SQUARING THE CIRCLE
How glad I am that I am here and not somewhere else. (If I were somewhere else, I’d be here.) No escape, then! (Poem from GNOMONIC VERSES)
