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Brian Taylor has been a Poet and Philosopher in Cornwall, England and the Far East.
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Tag Archives: breath
DEEP DOWN TO DEATH
Deep down to deathwith every breathand not one morefor any faith. His skin has lost a glossy look.He only feels his single painand waits for nothingto come back again. .
NOT TO BE BORN IS BEST
Looking with dispassion,with equanimity,with detachment,doesn’t it shine brighter than a thousand suns?And in every minute particular? The broken wingthe severed fingerthe uncompleted life‘the smyler with the knife’the loss of all things dearthe smell of fearspirochaetes, viruses and germsand the ever-chewing … Continue reading
Posted in Ego Ego God of the Jungle
Tagged a thousand suns, born, breath, death, detachment, dispassion, equanimity, Eternal empty wind, Evermore, fear, Heaven, joys and pains, past, viruses and germs
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UP TO DATE AND READY TO GO
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
Posted in Blondin
Tagged breath, expiring pain, fever, ready to go, Ready?, up to date
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THE PUNISHMENT FOR LISTENING IS HEARING
Maybe the ostrich is right.Not to be told or hear the cruel jokeis not to have felt its spite.Things will happen one way or another.All he need do is hold his breath,and take care not to smother,or choke. .
PYRAMIDS AND SARCOPHAGI
Why did they spend so much time there in the anteroom of death?What could they prepare?Paper possessions as light as breath were too heavy for their dead to bear away from the fire. Why did they keep their eyeson pyramid, … Continue reading
Posted in Blondin
Tagged anteroom of death, Blondin, breath, dreams, eternity, funeral pyre, identity, monumental keepsakes, nothing, pyramids, sarcophagi, shadow, wise
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IN A FLAT
In a flatyou thinkyou could scream yourself to deathand not be heard.Pressing your cheekagainst the cool of the sink.One breathupon another breath.No wordfor that. In a room,you sufferinside door,walls, ceiling, floor.You could shout,you could walk out,it’s not a tomb. In … Continue reading
YOGA
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
SINGLE-MINDED SALLY
Single-minded Sally woke up just before she diedand, looking round the Faces,saw there was no place to hide. Single-minded Sally knew she’d left it far too lateand she could not think of any way to make the Faces wait.And the … Continue reading
Posted in Gnomonic Verses
Tagged breath, death, died, faces, fearful din, humour, light, Sally, surprise, unblinking eyes, yellow, yellow teeth
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BLONDIN
Every man is Blondin.Every lifetime a rope,finer than a spider’s thread,sharper than a sword,stretched between birth and death(breath and breath)across Niagara. .
LABEL IT CORRECTLY
In St Peter’s graveyardthe bones have labels. The labels are incised in marble or slate.The coming together of the bones is recorded.(God breathed on those bones.)The dislocation of the bones is recorded.(God stopped breathing.)The length of time in betweenis calculated … Continue reading
Posted in Oxford Blues
Tagged age, Blondin, bonekeeper, bones, breath, God, graveyard, Oxford, Oxford Blues
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BLONDIN Poems 