Biography of Russell Taylor
Not much to say really... I started writing poetry at the age of 19 in Australia. Since then, I have managed to write around 300 plus, maybe more!
I thought it would be nice to share.
Russell Taylor Poems
Am I Peter Pan?
I sit staring over treetops, planning great adventures, sifting clouds in my mind. Light on my feet, I dart to and through, side to side, although I am still sat looking out of my window.
I was blinded by love and my heart torn into, You have shown me love through your eyes; your kiss surrounded my lonely heart, Your touch warms my heavy worn hands, Light now beacons my thoughts, while I lay entranced, your beauty taking refuse in my mind,
Shivering she picks up her harp, stroking her hair, locking around tight curls with fine fingers Her eyes glitter; drawing dreams in a silver gaze, passing pleasures, teasing strings a harps melodic chord, beyond any cosmic delight. Smiling, I melt into myself, longing more, feeling her sexual presence touching my lips, She moves, white gown waves at her delicate feet, pulling her closer until our eyes unite,
He sits and sits eyes twitching, nervous of his next move. Weight upon his shoulders bears no restraint; clouds beyond the skies offer no clear path, Feeling lost yet alone, family distinguished and friends live in silence, He is lonely in minds own violence, carefully planning exits if green tinged four leaf clover, wilts once more.
My Angel In my dreams I dreamt of such beauty, now in reality she is in front of me, I must not fall asleep again... Up and up, round and around, my head clears of any passing cloud, silence to a view of trees,
In my dreams I dreamt of such beauty, now in reality she is in front of me, I must not fall asleep again...
Up and up, round and around, my head clears of any passing cloud, silence to a view of trees,
Beyond, birds touch my shoulders; air touches my lips sweet as I imagine hers,
I gather pace, alacrity with time running thin, she will be waiting under a curious bridge, smiling a enquiring smile,
The corner pulls me free of my inquisitive mind, only to find stood the hair of a