David Taylor Poems

Ever been to one of those
water fountain shows?
You know with music and lights
and water spouts, at night.
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A supernova bursts
and casts a billion words
into the universal mind
for poets to write prose
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Shall I write a book?
Or create a play?
Make a movie?
How about a ballet?
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Now here’s a short poem
that I oft thought of showing.
A bit of a lark,
or a thing of the dark?
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The strange thing about meeting
a poet on the internet,
is that you meet them inside out.
You see what’s within
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Why write many words
when a very few
can suffice
The sound the bird
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Events in life come like buses
As we wait invisibly chained to concrete posts
By our desires to go places
Did you ever say I’ll just get on
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I wrote the most beautiful poem of hope
which flowed and ebbed in mysterious ways
that defied the dissection of minds
and weaved to the heart of mankind
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Footprints leaving imprinted tracks
on sidewalks' destined paths
some times resplendent with fragrant blossom trees
and too many times, if times I were to count
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A butterfly dances in my garden.
I don’t know its colour.
I don’t know its location.
I don’t know its name.
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