The Voice

One day…


THE VOICE

I heard a voice singing,
wondered whose it might be?
(I could not see)

I heard a voice laughing,
wondered whose it might be?
(I could not see)

I heard a voice crying,
wondered whose it might be?
(I could not see)

I heard a voice praying,
wondered what (if anything)
to do with me?

I heard the voice dying,
wondered where it might go?
One day I’ll know

[From: Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books 2007]

Our Song

Most of us, I suspect, have a special song that brings a lump to the throat every time we hear it…

OUR SONG

When you died, a cloud
passed over the sun;
I thought I would never
smile again – but took
a long walk in pouring rain,
trying to picture your face,
listening for the timbre
of your voice;
Saw only a blur of lives
rushing past;
Heard only a sobbing, as
you took your last
curtain call;
No smiles at all - then
the sun again!
Into a rainbow, I watched
a lark soar, its cheery
song ours

Evermore

[From: First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002]

Summer Is A Man In A Blue Denim Shirt

It's June and summer must be here, surely? Yet, here in the UK, I look out of my window at pouring rain and wonder…


SUMMER IS A MAN IN A BLUE DENIM SHIRT

In a field of sunflowers I met a man
wearing a blue denim shirt,
smelling of roses, singing a song
about love, joy and peace;
Laughing, he took me by the hand,
led me a dance as lightly
as a summer wind’s teasing leaves,
stroking a sparrow’s feathers,
running friendly fingers
through my hair, making me feel
so…alive

When I asked his name, he smiled
and burst into song again
without answering, lifting my heart
like the sparrow’s wing,
flirting with clouds at heaven’s door
as if daring someone to fling
it wide and protest at such blasphemy
as behaving so badly we even
whisper gossip at prayers
intended to give thanks for being
so…alive

A dark storm broke. We could but run
for the shelter and safety
of a nearby farmhouse painted green
but when I turned, that man
in the faded blue denim shirt was gone;
I searched long and hard
in pouring rain until soaked to the skin
before finally knocking at the door,
no sign of life so had to move on,
nearly…died

Come sun or storms, see summer pass,
its heart left waiting on love and peace

[From: Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007]