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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: dust
MID-SEPTEMBER SUN
Dry and ripening:sea flat and shininglike burning glass. Gulls floatinglike ducks on a giant’s pond. Small Coppers, Blues and Hairstreaksplayinglike blown leavesin parched grass. Victoria plums,blackberries. This is the turningof the yearwhen all that is thought of as ‘there’is found … Continue reading
Posted in Blondin
Tagged butterflies, cosmic seeds, dust, fear, gulls, harvests, lifetimes, September, shining, small Coppers, traveller, Victoria plums
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BLUE BOTTLE MIND
Even in all your fine regalia,hint of blue and buzzing wingall the trappings of your kind,you are far from being a substantial thing,and all your efforts end in failure.All entomic paraphernalia,proboscis, thorax, abdomen, wings that fly,six legs, antennae, multi-faceted eye,are … Continue reading
Posted in Blondin
Tagged Blondin, Bluebottle mind, desire, dust, facsimile, fly, Lust, paraphernalia, pride, shadow, silent hell, thought, wings
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PURITY
In the dark tabernacle,a shaft of sunlightillumines the heartand shines througha million years of dust. Clouds and clouds of swirlingdustspirallingthrough the lightwhich spills in a golden poolon damp, grey stone and iron rust. When the light movesit does not take … Continue reading
CALCULATIONS
Space you measure in feet and inchesand shoes by where your big toe pinches;seasons by cherry, rose and snow,when may comes and swallows go:empires by rise and fall of kings;weather by rain and drought and flood;dead trees by whether the … Continue reading
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 Oxford Blues
Tagged Armistice Day, bombs, deaths, dust, Ezra Pound, Flanders, gloria, grief, human litter, Martyr's Memorial, medals, November, Oxford, Oxford Blues, past and present, poppies, pro patria, services, spirits, St Giles, transcendental
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AND ASHES TO ASHES
Mingled dust of privet and rose petalsswept by the windgathered into cracks and empty spacesalong the bottom of the wall. Mingled dust of hopes and memoriesswept by the mindgathered into cracks and empty spacesalong the bottom of us all. .
Posted in Ego Ego God of the Jungle
Tagged ashes, cracks, dust, empty spaces, hopes, memories, mind, privet, rose petals
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POEMS
Poems are diamonds,everywhereembedded in living rock. You see themyou dig them outyou polish them. (Sometimes you don’t see them.) Polish them too much,they break into fragments,blow away,a handful of dust. (Each mote of which is a diamond.) .
Posted in Bamboo Leaves
Tagged Bamboo Leaves, dust, fragments, living rock, poems, polish
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SERPENTS
The Serpents dance hypnoticallyfilling the Void with Thought.And in their game of wish-fulfilmentthe Sons of Man are caught. Slaves to the Dream Creations,enflamed by its Hot Desires,craving ever-new sensations,singed by the Ancient Fires,they sinkfrom brightness into embersfrom cinders into dust,with … Continue reading
Posted in Gnomonic Verses
Tagged Ancient Fires, dance, dreams, dust, Lust, Masters, Perfect Peace, serpents, sons of man, thought
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WHAT SHALL I DO?
There’s a lot to be said for a balanced worldstable and well-fenced-in,that plays early that prays lateand industriously fills the within. This world’s a strange place to find one another with alien flesh labelled father and mother.Flesh is just dustin … Continue reading
Posted in Blondin
Tagged alien flesh, balanced world, Blondin, do?, dust, father, illusion, light-waves, lovers, molecule, mother, play, pray, soul, whole
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CORPSE IN MY ROOM
An old machineresting theremade of bits and pieces;whatever happened to be spareof water, earth and fire and air. An old machineconnected to the mains,switched on, is conscious of its pains. Switched off, inert,it does not know its ending;lies in the … Continue reading
BLONDIN Poems 