-
Brian Taylor has been a Poet and Philosopher in Cornwall, England and the Far East.
-
Recent Posts
Archives
Blogroll
Tags
Tag Archives: joy
IF THINE EYE BE SINGLE
Your true Self plays tennisfor joyfor fun;like children dancinghand in handon the sandin thefoaming breakers. Two fingersof the same handdrummingan improvised rhythm. The Egoic Mind playseverythingto win. .
Posted in Gnomonic Verses
Tagged Brian Taylor, children, dancing, drumming, egoic mind, fun, Gnomonic Verses, joy, plays to win, rhythm, tennis, TRUE SELF
Leave a comment
HERE NOW
Here exists in SpaceNow exists in Time,so how can they be the same? New York exists in America (space).New York exists at five o’clock (time)say the Americans.But you can’t sayNew York IS five o’clockor New York IS America!(Unless you are … Continue reading
Posted in Gnomonic Verses
Tagged America, bliss, butterfly, caterpillar, Chaos, facsimile, here, Hindus, joy, memory, New York, Now, preference, regret, sat-chit-ananda, space, Time
Leave a comment
HAPPINESS
The great stone Hall is silentthat is now millennia old.Through the western windowsshines a glorious sun.It floods the walls and floors,the tables, chairs and doors,panelling, pictures, artefactsand illumines every oneuntil the wraiths that gathercry out in their joy,‘Everything is gold!Whatever … Continue reading
TOMORROW AND TOMORROW
The pulling string,which is Time’s tether,bringsand bindsall thingstogetherin the contoured galleries of our minds. Piaf has been deadthese thirty years or moreand yet her voice is boughtand sold in any CD store. Yesterday and tomorrow,mingled joy and sorrow,are raw material … Continue reading
Posted in Blondin
Tagged autumn laughter, dream, dreams, Hamlet, here, infinite space, joy, king, Now, present, sorrow, Time
Leave a comment
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
SPRING
This spring-tide was not somethingto excite the sensesbut an overflowing of the heart.Pure joy.‘Love thou the rose but leave it on its stem.’ An overflowing of the heartwhich sees its images,reflected everywhere,existing nowherebut in itself. Always the sun shinesin Portsonachon,in … Continue reading