Brian Taylor is a poet and philosopher presently living in Cornwall, England and the Far East.
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Brian Taylor Poems
The ugly sister, Alice, glared at the mirror with reflected malice; gave a grin and blew a bubble;
AN EDUCATED CROCODILE IS STILL A CROCODI...
Rabbit with a habit lived in a hole next to Vole.
THE HEART OF DARKNESS
The explorer draws his map and plunges into space. Why should he stumble on at every fresh mishap
I, ME, MINE
In the Beginning (or perhaps a little later) there was I.
Nobody Will Hear You Dead
Nobody will hear you dead. It may be in time someone will remember
The great stone Hall is silent that is now millennia old. Through the western windows shines a glorious sun.
What is that sound? Like the trailing of a fan through a silent anteroom?
CITY OF ANGELS
Shafting sunbeams. misty eddies, towering, sculpted, shining chedis, thundering traffic, six lane highways, swampy, shabby, back-street by-ways,
THE SUN SHINES
The sun shines on the path silent and still.
FLOWERS OF THE HUMAN SPIRIT
A woman looks up from her place among the dirt and pollution of Silom Road and joins her palms together in salutation.
April was hot and dry. The red earth responded by blowing as dust in the wind.
We raised our hats to you, Mr Lincoln. We believed every word that you said. And when life spilled into darkness in a night of theatre,
Super-talented children play on the eternal beach, building castles and cities and civilisations and worlds,
Mind moves with the breath which fuels this articulated doll from birth to death.
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
The ugly sister, Alice,
glared at the mirror with reflected malice;
gave a grin
and blew a bubble;
stroked the stubble
on her chin
and simpered, in unbridled bliss,
'What a charmer I iss! '
adding, with a grimace,
'Who's the prettier, glass face? '
Cinderella. Cinderella. Cinderella.
The mirror twinkled a little wintry.
The tiny fragments of splintery
glass were swept up by footman Fred.
'What a wolatile woman! ' Fred said.
'A weally, wolatile woman! ...