David Taylor - Poems

Poetry Series David Taylor - poems - Publication Date: 2007 Publisher: Poemhunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive David Taylor(3rd January 1956) Born, Baby, Child, Adolescent, Student, Employee, Husband, Self Employed, Father, Father, Father, Divorcee, Husband, Father...and throughout all that I'm me! www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 1 *alone* what should be an invigorating freshness a chill inside (shaking heart beats) traffic on the road silent rising clanking passing (silent again) phone rings silence, recorded voice speaks a real person with taped speech (a recorded message would be better?) selling cheap energy i think i will buy some flowers (petals coloured fragrance) arrange them in a wreath celebrate my death reports of (my) death greatly exaggerated until the silence speaks with the voice of great souls (departed) come in they say (here is the place) to be; alone in eternity. David Taylor www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 2 *dance Ohh bliss what do you say, do you have a voice today? Where may I find your joy, which I remember as a boy? Ahh bliss where are you now, hidden under frown of brow? Where may I find your sound, which surely must be all around? Hmm bliss what is it that I miss, as I go on with that and this? Where may I find your smile, in each and every hour and mile? Yes I can feel it now, the harmony of the sky and clouds, the moon's revolving round, earth's harvest after plough. It is a dance eternal found the sweetest movement in all sound; and never will be missed, as by that bliss this life is kissed. David Taylor www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 3 *dance* under the shadow, over the brow is a place where (i heard) , it always is now; past the street lights, beyond the black night, did ever you go there; do you believe, that ever you might? we'll meet by the stream of fallen bright stars the place where we all, simply be (what we are) , and the you's and the me's, far left behind under the light of the temporal kind. where time was before, (and no longer gone) and future is present; not anymore longed and the place that was secret and so hard to find, is found to be everywhere uncontained by this mind. and when we meet, we will dance (not a you and a me) and sing silent and true so that there always will be, (for as long as we do) , a me to appear, to look for a you. David Taylor www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 4 *homecoming* (With Borrowed Music) She went far away, far over the seas, my wife and my light and my glee. She flew far away into the night to a land of temples and tea. And she phones, and we speak, but never we meet the light of my life and me. She took with her my son yes son, (I did not spell wrong) , the age of three is he. In less than a month he will be four and I am certain, I'm sure, that he adores and looks up to me. Soon they'll come back, the sun of my life, and the child with a smile that's so free. They went far away to see grandma and grandpa, uncles and cousins galore, in a land of temples and tea. And where shall we meet when their journey's complete, by the shore of the roaring sea? No, not anymore do lovers unite at the side of a boat on a quay; it will be at Heathrow, terminal three. David Taylor www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 5 *hope* I feel shut off, locked in, separated (dark alone perilous) . The woods call with soft green tones, the sky yearns above, blue-grey, as the clouds and world rush by. How long will I sit by the wayside not knowing if I want to be noticed or prefer an idle invisibility: Having human form some basic truths cannot be denied; body must be fed or die, demons must be slain. (Where lies freedom, where lie I) ? Oh for the night to come and moonbeams reflect on quieter waters hushed by the setting golden sun, and a million stars shine down from a silvered distant past, of times long gone. And in the chill and wind (which now slowly seeps within) how I will wish for the warming sun to arise on future horizons, my feigned escape undone. Behold, in front, a tiny pearl of dew (does form, and glint) , on the shadowed hawthorn leaves, hope speaks. David Taylor www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 6 *near; Far; Here.* Further than the furthest star and closer than your heart is He. (not near; not far) . Nearer than the eyes that see furthest from the thought of me (so near; so far) . Can we ever find the answer whilst we think I am not He? Can you imagine life hereafter if all beings are one, the same, can you see the challenge to transcend our individual names? Beyond imagination flies that which behind all beings lies. The one that watches on the one that has never gone (so near; right here) . Do you know that very self within each being on this earth? And what does that mean as we sit and look and read oblivious to all the hearts that bleed (not me; not them) . David Taylor www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 7 *only Love* The tombstones; acred hearts, sigh in the shadows. Each one, if but only love had loved, and known it so, would happily to graveside go. But alas; how many, by love's unclothed, clothed deception, in such guises; misconception, makes us hold the handles of the cask until bodies breath last gasp. Breathe softly breath, breathe softly love, hear love, speak gently of, be consumed, consummated by everlasting lust of, only love. David Taylor www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 8 *questions Questions Words why do you seeming fail to reveal the source from which you fall? Why pale and grey in black on white, why with deep colours, do you not write and reveal that place from whence you come? Is that the center of the Sun? What was there before you formed, before the first consonant was born? Was it the vowel so freely aired, did that announce the dawn before we were adorned with cares? Was that the time the Angels sung? And then before the vowel was it darkness that prevailed? But what beauty must be there, shrouded from our piercing stare? And before the darkness found its place, tell me what was there in unlit space? And then before the unlit space did silence reign and roar with no time to ask for more? And if each word is followed home will we find what is our own? Is it that, from which you come, that from which each word is spun? David Taylor www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 9 *reflections how beautiful the sun's reflections make the air touched, gently rippled lakes perfectly formed and round on the still pond it's found how muted soft in morning mists by which the fertile fields are kissed magnificent the coloured clouds as its light they partly shroud how would you see that form without all this that is its gift of dawn without all this that is its gift of dawn how would you see that form as its light they partly shroud magnificent the coloured clouds by which the fertile fields are kissed how muted soft in morning mists on the still pond it's found perfectly formed and round the air touched, gently rippled lakes how beautiful the sun's reflections make David Taylor www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 10 *simplicity One moment in time all this is begun One moment in time a sound is sung One moment in time a life is born One moment in time a hope is torn One moment in time love has come One moment in time all is known as One. David Taylor www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 11 *star* Star shining bright so many stars wandering through the dark night, did you (do you) know whichever star you are there is still further (you can go) even further afar; star shining bright which one are you, are you shining red or silver or blue? and (do you know?) magnificent you are. David Taylor www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 12 ..................................................... Words don't matter he said, only the silence in which they appear. How may I write of that silence said I .............................................................. was his reply. David Taylor www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive 13 A Bridge Called Space There once was a bridge called space which spanned the lands of time and place; below that bridge called space, flowed love which joined the land of time with the land of place; as love flowed under that bridge called space that river flowed and joined and spread plants grew, all species bred; but as it fed and bred its waters dried and left its bed the bridge of space looked down below at the missing flow, of love and fell, crumbled back into the dust; the land of place had no space and time without a place had nothing left to count the universe of time, place and space returned beyond to that which has no name that from which it came.

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