Brian Taylor has been a Poet and Philosopher in Cornwall, England and the Far East.
Tag Archives: sun
Time drifts away,as mist fades on the mountain.The world itself is hardly more real,the living waters springingfrom life’s fountain run dry,leaving discarded bonesbleaching in the sun. There is no moleculebut strives to be the whole(or if it can’t encompass that, … Continue reading
Freedom from the Pastis the Present.Freedom from the Futureis the Present. The Presentis a crack that runs through the universe.Into it everything disappearslike snowflakesin a raging furnace. For most peoplethe Presentis a mental spacefilled by memories of the Past,thoughts of … Continue reading
First the left hand, then the right;in each, a ball, in each held tight. When a third comes into view,what exactly will you do? Let it roll past on its way,down the hall and out the door? Or grab it … Continue reading
She passes like a shadowacross a silent floor,lit by a sun that followsand a star that goes before.And though I know she walks in beautythat is not subject to decayyet she shelters behind dutyfrom the glory of the way. .
The Juggler throwshis batons at the sun.The sky throws them back againlike rain,each and every one. Surely by now he knowswhat it is he’s gaining? Come Mr. Juggler,look at it from your point of view,just how long has it been … Continue reading
Holding a candle to drawn curtains,shielding tired eyes against the Sun,almost, but not quite, now half-certainthat one and one and one is one! .
The shadow of the gnomonslides at a steady rate.Even if the dial is ancient,the time itself is up to date.Though the train sleeps in the station,the sun just will not wait. And the ever moving sunand the clocks that tick … Continue reading
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
The season slidesto wind and showersand sharp hot sun(for rare half-hours)and all the worldlays waste its powerspursuing what it cannot own. Then mists and fogs and hazy sunriseships’ dull horns and lazy gull cries. Now blazing heat(bone dry pails)sandy feetsingle … Continue reading
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