A Poet's Blog: Roger N.Taber shares his thoughts & poems...

Thoughts and observations by English poet Roger N. Taber, a retired librarian and poet-novelist.- "Ethnicity, Religion, Gender, Sexuality ... these are but parts of a whole. It is the whole that counts." RNT [NB While I have no wish to create a social network, I will always reply to critical emails about my poetry. Contact: rogertab@aol.com].

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Location: London, United Kingdom

Sadly, a bad fall in 2012 has left me with a mobility problem, and being diagnosed with prostate cancer the same year hasn't helped, but I get out and about with my trusty walking stick as much as I can, take each day as it comes and try to keep looking on the bright(er) side of life. Many of my poems reflect the need to nurture a positive-thinking mindset whatever life throws at us.

Tuesday, 5 July 2011

Sunflowers

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

I love sunflowers, for real and as immortalised in art.

Today’s poem was posted on the blog in April 2009 and is repeated today especially for two Danish readers, ‘Aksel and Carin’ who share a love for the paintings of Danish impressionist Preben Rasmussen; among his paintings, their favourite is one inspired by...yes, sunflowers.

Now, I confess I’d never heard of Rasmussen, and only know of (and love) Van Gogh’s incredible sunflowers but will be on the lookout for any exhibitions of his work from now on.

Oh, but I love it when readers comment that my love poems could have been written for anyone, gay, straight or transgender; my point entirely. [Incidentally, I always include and try to reach out to lesbians among my gay readers, only can’t keep qualifying what I say; no offence intended to those lesbian readers who prefer the term ‘lesbian’ to ‘gay’.]


A love poem is a love poem, for anyone and everyone, in any language.

SUNFLOWERS

Mad caress of fingers in the hair,
bold lips lingering on mine;
bright eyes pricking every nerve,
our breaths like party wine;
beads of sweat, rolling down
each parted thigh like tears
on the face of a lost child, found
and returned home…

A rhythm in us like the quickening
pulse of a late-night disco,
cyber suns flashing in the face,
making V-signs;
fulfilment, the joy of someone
playing with a new toy...
(Even in my ecstasy, I sense, dimly,
how you’ll grow tired of me)
for now, though, joined together
like Siamese twins,
one of us destined to live out
the other’s days...

No choice. Better to die now
in a sea of passion
than while away a lifetime
in a toyshop window;
fill me then with the glorious
chaos of rebirth;
music, like sunflowers, bursting
from the earth...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004

[From: The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004]








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