Brian Taylor Poems
|321.||City Of Angels||12/19/2009|
|322.||Judge Not, That Ye Be Not Judged||3/25/2009|
|325.||Where Are You Now?||8/11/2015|
|326.||Cafe Les Deux Magots||5/30/2013|
|327.||Viral Gossip Chinese Whispers||8/13/2015|
|328.||Building A House||1/11/2010|
|329.||Nobody Will Hear You Dead||11/30/2009|
|330.||I, Me, Mine||11/24/2008|
|331.||The Heart Of Darkness||5/13/2011|
|332.||An Educated Crocodile Is Still A Crocodile||4/13/2009|
Comments about Brian Taylor
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! ...
I, Me, Mine
In the Beginning
(or perhaps a little later)
there was I.
And then, because I was lonely,
there was ME.
And WE got on like a house on fire!
And, so that we could have something in common,