Brian Taylor Poems

What is that sound?
Like the trailing of a fan
through a silent anteroom?
...

It was different in the past.
Especially in the village.

Before you could read
...

Shafting sunbeams. misty eddies,
towering, sculpted, shining chedis,
thundering traffic, six lane highways,
swampy, shabby, back-street by-ways,
...

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,
...

The sun shines
on the path
silent and still.
...

A woman looks up
from her place among the dirt and pollution
of Silom Road and joins
her palms together in salutation.
...

Ever since Ancient Times,
when Sibyls plied their trade
in fortune telling by setting up shop
in caves and fissures
...

The Cafe is famous.
The Coffee is expensive.

I sit
...

Via Viatores Quaerit. – St Augustine
(The Way seeks Travellers)

On Tuesday,
Sanctus Dominique,
...