David Taylor Poems

From Alaska to Zanzibar the poets are out
They’re searching and hunting and looking about
The hunt is on, the call is being shouted out loud
The poets well versed are searching all round
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Damp in both eyes
Hesitant in breath
Heavy in heart
Blank in thought
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The atrium to the train station
Thralls with business men, families
Workers and holidaymakers
Excited shouts and dogged strides
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What do you hear?
Do you hear the sound of thunder
Or pitter patter of rain
Or roar of howling wind
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A rustling of leafy canopy
announces a sweeping breath
with a silvery clattering like
dampened crystal or paper chimes
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Transcendental unification causes obliteration
of individual ruminations which always circulate
and are prime subjects for debate between so many postulates.
Intellectualisation is even better after a little libation
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Well I do not know
About the day or how blossoms grow
I do not know my life means what
I don’t even know diddly squat
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Like a pile of broken bricks
ones they said you’d never fix.
Like a rhyme that has no song
a song that sings of what has gone.
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I watch my son playing
Running and dancing
Building with bricks
Imagining the little plastic man exists
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Creamy coloured bubbles
Of silky luminescence
Oft without any effervescence
Trickled running until pouring
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