Brian Taylor has been a Poet and Philosopher in Cornwall, England and the Far East.
Tag Archives: Blondin
Look for it, you will not find.Flee it, you cannot escape.It shines, unbidden in your mind,is both the shadow and the shape.You cannot hold, or change or lose it.You cannot welcome or refuse it.You did not make or break or … Continue reading
The landscape itselfis cracked and pitted.Quarries gouged out of the rock face.Concrete jungleswhere forests grew.A million species drownedby hydro-electric schemes.Roman grain bowlsbecoming the Sahara desert. And the figuresthat pass through this landscape,four-footed, two, or nonewith scar of tooth and clawof … Continue reading
It may not be the bearded manwho smiles at you and explodes.It may not be the errant tyrethat slides on the icy roads.It may not be the scaffolding plankthat bounces on your head.It may not be pneumoniathat smothers you in … Continue reading
He turned his back on the graveyardand with the sad songshe had taken downinto the stiff clay of the underworldlike root-fingersstill singing in his ears,walked towards the future. Before him floatedher death mask,warmed by the pale fireof yesterday’s desire. Fire … Continue reading
This world is a theatreof broken dreams.Everything ISbut is notwhat it seems. .
War breaks outin the land of the golden calfor in the columnsof the Daily Telegraph. Peace is foundin cloister or hearthin intervals of waror the exhausted aftermath. Whateverdeclarations of waror articles of peaceare signed,they flowfrom the labyrinthine meanderingof the human … Continue reading
Mind moveswith the breathwhich fuels this articulated dollfrom birth to death. What starts out as routine maintenancefor a puppet with entangled stringsdevelops to a share in the danceof the dragon that eternally sings. But, first, the intention,clear and well definedfor … Continue reading
The great rock spins a little closer to the Fireand all its creatures,born of warmthand of desire,crack shells, burst seeds,feed and breedand say YES. They burn gently, while they may,being born of warmth and of desire,until the great rock spins … Continue reading
The fountainreaches upwards into spaceand, finding nothingto sustain it there,falls back into its proper place. And in this endlessrise and fall,we see the start and finishof us all. Time fliesthrough summer and through wintry skies;measures elephants and butterflies,marks where this … Continue reading
Hippophaewith clusters of orange berrieson spiky twigs. Set in this ancient, yellowstone wall,which separates the formal walksfrom the marsh garden to the south,is the gateway (with gate long gone).At its base, nerines – all mauves and reds –spill over on … Continue reading