Brian Taylor has been a Poet and Philosopher in Cornwall, England and the Far East.
Tag Archives: trees
On Tuesday after a silenceof three months,suddenly,where the junglethrows evening shadows over the bougainvilleas,all the cicadas shouted out at once;stretching and releasing their tymbalslike the shimmering and vibratingof a thousand silver cymbals. No notices were posted on the trees.No announcements … Continue reading
Ice, thick,as I have never seenon Cherwell.Jagged, floating towards Isis. Low mists of ice-dustdrift on Christ Church meadowand cool the bloodof long-horn cattlestandingankle-deep in mud. A lame roe deerbeneath the treespauses, wherethe sudden call of cootssplits the air. In the … Continue reading
Khun’s house stands impermanentlyby a large and ancient Bodhi tree.This has lent him its shadesince the house was first madeand has spread its branches comfortably.Under such a tree was Buddha enlightened. Hundreds of birds come hereto nest,to rest,to watch the … Continue reading
What is that sound?Like the trailing of a fanthrough a silent anteroom? It is the murmur of airruffling leaves. It is the herald of the whirlwindwhich will strip those leaves from their treesand wrench the trees from the hillsideand blast … Continue reading
Observation brings realisationthat Mind is prone to distraction. Off at a tangent by association,ending up in the wrong destination. This of course leads to frustration,finding yourself in awkward situations. Mindfulness brings good concentration,so when you’re asked, answer the question! .
He has dirty feet;“Washing is dangerouswash much, sicken and die.”He wears a short black jacketand floppy black trousers.A large silver lock hangs round his neck.She has a blue jacketand a tightly pleated kiltof hemp and cottonwith heavily embroideredand weighted black … Continue reading
The forest is dense and undisturbed,the trees high and overshading,the birdsong harsh and shrill,the giant cicadas persistentlike throbbing brass. Paths have been clearedand wooden bridges laidover a latticework of hot yellow streams.These infiltrate the vegetationand send up clouds of steam. … Continue reading
In the snow forests of Himavāna,Lake Anodāta simmers like a jewelamong green-black trees,slumbers in the scent of jasmine.Its snow-born waters are deep-blue cool,its silence deeper even than the snowsuntil gik-gak gik-gak gik-gak is heardas Gunaras and Gunarees,gold of skin, half-human … Continue reading