-
Brian Taylor has been a Poet and Philosopher in Cornwall, England and the Far East.
-
Recent Posts
Archives
Blogroll
Tags
Category Archives: Blondin
JUNE
A dry Juneand roses and honeysuckletumble in riotous flowerdown the path, below the gate,in anticipation of drought. They rush slowly(keeping vegetable time)towards the battlefieldof fern and bramblewhich flows,inconclusively,to the cliff edge.Beyond, the sea. The mind takes on the colourof what … Continue reading
Posted in Blondin
Tagged Blondin, bramble, dance, dance of the mind, eternity in love with the products of time, FERN, honeysuckle, June, palm tree, roses, sea, silent music, Tiger, void
Leave a comment
BHAVANA
The great gates hangon broken hinges,the temples blaze,the walls are breached;the palaces have all been lootedthe end of a dynasty has been reached. Those still livinghave all been taken,women and children have been sold;the last king hangsfrom the palace lintel,the … Continue reading
EVERYDAY LIFE (DYING NORMALLY)
Going out there is no othercoming back there is no trace.As Eternity comes nearer-clearer,the brackets themselves have a smaller place. Meeting in a far-off futureyou will not recognise my facebut will turn away to your then-close familyin your then-dear corner … Continue reading
Posted in Blondin
Tagged acorn, April, Blondin, bluebell, eternity, gorse, infinite space, no other, oak, primrose, robin, wild garlic
Leave a comment
HAVE A HAPPY WEEK!
“Empty-handed I comeand lo!the spade is in my hand.” In the illimitable VoidAll is destroyed(and Nothing is lost!). Everything appears anew:good seeds flourish(and evil too). They said to the Poetat his birth,“Go! Love!Without the helpof anything on Earth.” A naked … Continue reading
Posted in Blondin
Tagged birth, Blondin, child, child's play, empty, happy, love, nothing, Poet, terrorise the world, void
Leave a comment
OWN GOAL
Cast up on a desert island,hut to be erected,food to be found. Making something I can call ‘my land’to protect and be protectedon my own ground. Another somewhereto be hot and cold in.A here (or there)to be young (grow old) … Continue reading
Posted in Blondin
Tagged Blondin, Cosmic Mole, desert island, footprints, my land, Now, Own Goal, seagulls
Leave a comment
I, ME, MINE
In the Beginning(or perhaps a little later)there was I. And then, because I was lonely,there was me. And we got on like a house on fire!And, so that we could have something in common,there was mine.And we got on like … Continue reading
Posted in Blondin
Tagged beginning, Blondin, French Revolution, i me mine, lonely, mess!, mine, Second World War, share, Spanish Armada, Tony Blair, Vietnam, you
1 Comment
TO THE BELIEVERS IN OUR GOVERNMENTS
Do you really think the othersare any less stupid than you? All history is prejudiced and gossipy,all science misuse of the misunderstood. But nobody waits to understand.There is no timejump onuse ityou can’t refuse itit’ll make you happywhatsitmatter whatsitsfor? A … Continue reading
Posted in Blondin
Tagged bad luck, civilisation, clumsy airman, clumsy reaper, drop his bomb, gossip, governments, history, make you happy, no time, prejudice, understand
Leave a comment
REQUIEM: ARMISTICE DAY
This yearthe dead are blindand do not seem to hearour prayers.Nor do they seem to mindthat we now ownwhat they once thought was theirs. Herethey shed no tearat all the painthey left behind. Now,when they come again,they only findechoes of … Continue reading
Posted in Blondin
Tagged Armistice Day, dead, deserted buildings, empty, lonely, long-ago, pain, prayers, requiem, tears, unpeopled streets
Leave a comment
ARMISTICE DAY
‘Died some pro patria non dulce non et decor.’So Ezra Pound adapted Horace’s linesfor those whose sufferings for their nationhad bred a dull, dark, painful generationwith gloria cauterised from their minds. In the calendar their deaths are still recorded.Poppies and … Continue reading
Posted in Blondin
Tagged Armistice Day, bombs, Ezra Pound, FAITH, Flanders, gloria, grief, Martyrs' Memorial, medals, November, Oxford, past, poppies, present, refuge, remembrance, St Giles, transcendental dust
Leave a comment
THE HAPPIEST OLD
The happiest oldhave nothing and don’t mind.The happiest youngare old before their time.Few these. The others are behind their years,suffer thirteen-year-olds’ fearsinto their twenties,and in their fortieshave appetitefor sins of twenty. But not the bite. .
Posted in Blondin
Tagged appetite, fears, happiness, have nothing, old, sins of twenty, Time, young
Leave a comment
