Biography of David Taylor
Born, Baby, Child, Adolescent, Student, Employee, Husband, Self Employed, Father, Father, Father, Divorcee, Husband, Father...and throughout all that I'm me!
David Taylor Poems
Love, Love, Love, Love, Love Without A ...
How do you write a poem about Love? It cannot be caught and is beyond words’
Sweetness is on your lips like honey flavoured early morning dew. And your eyes have a depth of blue that even deepest oceans cannot match
Because You'Re Beautiful
Because you’re Beautiful This poem’s addressed To you Because you’re beautiful
A Confusion Of Mixed Feelings
In the outward movement of our senses we revel in a range of tastes many very fine and some we know to be perhaps a little base.
Beauty, Beautious, Beautiful
Beauty is not a superficial form Each has their own in essential nature And in the actions they perform Until the dissolution of their life
A Little Love Poem...
I dreamed a little dream of you; too small a dream to contain all the ways you reach out to me, too short to encompass your eternity,
A Cold Night
A snowy icy night, painted hill tops all are white, all the rivers flow like ice, and raindrops fall as hail, from so very, very high, above. Whispered breath, a smoky kind of grey,
Words don't matter he said, only the silence in which they appear. How may I write of that silence said I ..............................................................
A Life Well Lived
I sat and I watched as a flower gently unfolded I sat and I watched as it blossomed with gold reaching out from its centre its beauty was told.
A New Vessel
The clay lay on the table before me; it has just arrived and freed from its sack with preserving amniotic fluid. When it had first arrived at the door
A Conversation With My Dearest Friend
So why are you shouting at me! And that thing you said, did you really mean to be, so very, very mean and hurtful?
how beautiful the sun's reflections make the air touched, gently rippled lakes perfectly formed and round on the still pond it's found
A Matter Of Life And Death
Death inevitable and unavoidable Life fragile and transient Reincarnate what returns Dead meat and bones left over
under the shadow, over the brow is a place where (i heard) , it always is now; past the street lights, beyond the black night,
A careful consideration of all things.
A weighing in the balance of experience.
A remembrance of treasured words received.
And from a discordance of events
a gem arises hewn of discontent,
It is a question heaven sent.
Containing all that went before.
And asking that, perhaps there might be more?