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Brian Taylor is a Poet and Philosopher who lives in Cornwall, England and the Far East.
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Tag Archives: Oxford
SPECULUM
Going out there is no other,coming back there is no trace.Though we must love one another,whose is the beloved’s face? Start from wherever you think you wish to,you cannot end up in a different place.Examine carefully the mirrors around you.All … Continue reading
Posted in Oxford Blues
Tagged beloved, Blondin, face, mirror, other, Oxford, Oxford Blues, smile, speculum, transformation
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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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LEARNING
Learning out and learning inboth from now and here begin. Going back to change the clockyesterday’s secrets will not unlock. Writing plans on your diary’s pagemakes nothing happen (except old age). Singing old songs,reciting old parts,rights no wrongs,breeds more false … Continue reading
Posted in Oxford Blues
Tagged Blondin, clock, diary, false starts, here, learning, Now, old age, Oxford, Oxford Blues, plans, secrets
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JANUARY, JANUARY…
Ice, thick,as I have never seenon Cherwell.Jagged, floating towards Isis. Low mists of ice-dustdrift on Christ Church meadow and cool the bloodof long-horn cattlestanding ankle-deep in mud. A lame roe deerbeneath the treespauses, wherethe sudden call of cootssplits the air. … Continue reading
Posted in Blondin
Tagged Blondin, blossom from Japan, Cherwell, Christ Church, January, Magdalen, medieval, Oxford, Trinity, white deer
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MIDWINTER’S DAY
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
Posted in Oxford Blues
Tagged Cherwell, Chinese porcelain, Magdalen Bridge, Merton, midwinter, Oxford, squirrels
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ARMISTICE DAY
“Died some pro patria non dulce non et decor.” So Ezra Pound adapted Horace’s lines for those whose sufferings for their nation had bred a dull, dark, painful generation with gloria cauterised from their minds. In the calendar their deaths … Continue reading
Posted in Oxford Blues
Tagged Armistice Day, Ezra Pound, Flanders, grief, medals, November, Oxford, past, poppies, present, sacrifices
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MAGDALEN
In the Fellows’ Gardens, past the Deer Park, a willow twists and stretches out of a brown pool like a giant Naga trailing garlands of green lace. Along the avenues of Addison’s Walk, among birch and beech, chestnuts stretch out … Continue reading
Posted in Oxford Blues
Tagged Academics, beech, bicycles, birch, chestnuts, Deer Park, living, Michaelmas, Odysseus, Oxford, Painted Lady, River of Pain
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